Opposites Attract (The Locklaine Boys Book 2), page 1
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The Locklaine Boys
by Jessica Prince
Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Prince
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.authorjessicaprince.com
Editor: Erin Garcia
Cover Designer: Jill Sava
Interior Design & Proofing: Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction, www.loveaffairwithfiction.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:
Picking up the Pieces
Rising from the Ashes
Pushing the Boundaries
Worth the Wait
THE COLORS NOVELS:
Love Hate Relationship
THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (a LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP spinoff):
Fire and Ice
Almost Perfect – Collin and Devon’s story (coming late 2016)
THE PEMBROOKE SERIES (a WILDFLOWER spinoff):
Coming Full Circle – Ethan and Eliza’s story (coming October 2016)
DEADLY LOVE SERIES:
Nightmares from Within
Hustler – with Meghan Quinn
To all the quirky, nerdy, slightly eccentric women out there.
Because who wants to be normal? That’s just boring ;)
WHAT THE HELL was I doing?
As I scanned the dimly lit club, packed full of gyrating bodies that reeked of cheap cologne and too much perfume, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was actually stuck in the seventh circle of hell. Sweat was running into cracks and crevices I didn’t want to think about, and my eyes itched something fierce.
“Stop that!” my best friend Devon reached over and smacked my hand away from my eye.
“Will you quit hitting me?”
“Then quit digging at your eyeballs like you’re trying to pop them out!” she snapped before picking the shot glass up off the table and slamming the tequila down like a seasoned pro.
“I can’t help it,” I whined. “These contacts are driving me crazy! I don’t understand why I couldn’t have just worn my glasses.”
Devon braced her hands on the table and focused on me. “Because,” she spoke firmly, despite the copious amounts of booze we’d been ingesting for the past hours. “The goal for tonight is sinfully sexy, not adorably quirky.”
“But—” I began to argue, only to have her continue like I hadn’t said anything.
“And while there are men out there who can appreciate the day-to-day Delilah in all her cute glory, the purpose of tonight is to find a hot, well-hung man to clean your pipes and get your mind off that stupid bastard with hours and hours of meaningless sex. And the sad fact is, one-night stands just don’t go for adorable.”
My nose scrunched up at her remark. “Sweet Jesus, Devon. I’ll give you twenty bucks to stop referring to my lady bits as pipes. Every time you say it, I feel like I should call a plumber or something.” I reached over and snatched a shot glass off the table and downed it.
She hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you should. Lord knows your douche-bag ex wasn’t giving it to you good enough.”
“That’s not tr—” I began to argue, only to have her shoot me a look that said, “Keep lying to me. I dare you.” “Okay, so it’s true,” I finally relented.
Devon nodded satisfactorily. “That’s why I posted all over social media that he suffered from ED.”
My eyes went wide, my mouth hanging open. “You didn’t!”
“Sure the hell did!” she shouted proudly. “And I regret nothing. That shit-for-brains deserves so much worse for what he did to you. Now,” she pushed another shot glass in front of me, “drink up like a good little girl, and let’s find you a man you won’t have to ask, ‘Is it in yet?’”
I groaned and dropped my head onto the tabletop. “I don’t want to do this, Dev,” I complained. “I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. I don’t want to start now. Waking up with VD or something isn’t my idea of fun.”
She smacked my shoulder and forced me to look at her. “Delilah Marie Buchanan, you have had sex with exactly one person, and he turned out to be a cheating asshole who ran around New York sticking his micro-penis in anything that offered.”
“Wow,” I deadpanned. “When you put it that way, my life doesn’t sound pathetic at all.”
“Drink.” She shoved more tequila in front of me and I drank willingly, hoping to forget this night completely. “It’s not pathetic. You’re a good person who put your trust in a man who wasn’t worthy of it. I’m here to make sure you get back on the horse — preferably one with a big ol’ dick one — instead of moping around your apartment with your head stuck in a bag of Doritos.” She slapped her hand on the table, pumped up from her so-called pep talk. “Now, say it with me… I’m getting laid tonight.”
“I’m not saying that.”
I rolled my itchy eyes and let out a puff of air. “Fine. I’m getting laid tonight.”
“I’m getting laid tonight,” I repeated a few octaves higher than the first time.
“Like you mean it, Del!”
“I’m getting laid tonight!” I finally shouted, the effects of the tequila and Devon’s influence jacking me up in a way that would undoubtedly lead to some very poor decisions.
“Not with you!” Devon snapped at the guy who’d overheard my declaration and had taken it upon himself to approach the table. “Go away. Shoo!”
Once the man scurried off, tail between his legs, she threw her arm over my shoulder and, together, we surveyed the massive crowd of twenty-to-thirty-somethings. It took a few seconds for me to finally spot him, but when I did, I nearly fell off my barstool.
“Sweet Mother Mary,” I muttered in awe.
Devon followed my line of sight
I looked from the tequila back to the man who’d managed to snag my attention in a room full of people, like a spotlight had been trained directly on him. I took the shot, then another. I needed all the liquid courage I could get in order to find the nerve to approach such a perfect man.
I sighed, tugging at the red mini dress Devon had insisted I wear tonight. Never had I been so glad to be peer pressured into looking like anything other than myself for one night. “How do I look?” I asked, wobbling just slightly as I turned to her.
She fluffed my hair and checked the bobby-pins she’d used to pull my thick bangs back in an artful poof at the crown of my head. “Boobs, check. Ass, check. Curves, check,” she ticked off. “I’d definitely do you.”
“Me too,” the man Devon had just blown off seconds ago announced.
“What’d I just tell you?” she shouted at him, sending him running again.
“Well,” I let out a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
“HOLY SHIT!” THE LAST tremors of my release wrack my body before I collapse onto the mattress in a panting, sweaty mess.
I turned my head and looked at the woman who’d just given me one of the best orgasms I’d ever had. “You can say that again,” I chuckled. Christ, when she’d approached me at the club earlier that night, I remembered thinking that I’d never seen a woman look so hot in red before. She’d been all lush curves and long black hair. I’d been hard before she ever made it to the table.
One thought crossed my mind when she looked at me and smiled a smile that was equal parts shy and seductive all at once: I’m going to be inside this woman before the night’s over.
God, I loved it when I was right.
“That was…” she trailed off, still gasping for air as she tried to regulate her breathing. I could relate. “Wow.”
With another laugh, I climbed from the bed and headed for my bathroom to dispose of the condom, not bothering to get dressed along the way. I was nowhere near done with her. When I walked back out, I paused at the sight of her, sheet wrapped around her sinful body as she scurried around my bedroom snatching up her clothes as she went. Her hair was mussed, save for the small piece pinned back from her forehead. She screamed sex, and I wanted nothing more than to devour every inch of her. Again.
“What do you think you’re doing?” One corner of my mouth curved up. Shit, she’s cute, I thought, all frantic looking and wide-eyed as she clutched that killer red dress like a lifeline.
“Uh… getting dressed?”
“Why?” I asked as I slowly stalked her way, no doubt looking as predatory as I was feeling.
She cleared her throat and reached up to rub her eye. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed her do that. Must have been some kind of nervous tick or something. “Because?”
Pulling the dress from her hand, I threw it back on the floor before snatching the sheet from around her, exposing all that pale, smooth skin. “I’m not finished with you,” I growled as I grabbed her ass and hauled her up. She gave a surprised squeak as her legs wrapped around my waist, her hands gripping my shoulders for balance. I was already getting hard again. I had stamina, sure, but even this had to have been some kind of record.
I nipped at her bottom lip, still red and plump from our bruising kisses earlier. “We’re just getting started.
With that, I tossed her back onto the bed and followed her down. I spent the next several hours memorizing every dip, every freckle on her body, coming up with new ways to make her give me those erotic gasps and moan. It was, hands down, the best sex I’d ever had.
I woke up the next morning and reached over, ready to go again, only to find the mattress cold and empty under my palm. She was gone.
And I hadn’t even gotten her name.
Three months later
I WOKE UP IN a sweat, the sheets tangled and twisted around my legs from all the thrashing I’d done, thanks to my new stupid recurring dream.
“Damn it,” I groaned, falling back against my pillow as my chest continued to heave. Three months. It has been three months since my night with the nameless man who’d managed to destroy me for all other men in just a matter of hours, and I still couldn’t get him out of my head. Every night I dreamed of him. It always started the same, with me approaching him in the club, but the progression was always different. But no matter what, in my dream we always ended up having sex, and it was always as good as it was the one night I was with him.
To say I’d been walking around in a state of perpetual sexual frustration for the past three months would be a serious understatement.
A soft whimper drew my attention, snuffing out the erotic images that were still lingering. I turned to look at Slim Shady, his tiny, white, fluff-ball head cocked to the side in curiosity.
“Don’t look at me.” I snatched the pillow from under my head and smashed it over my face, trying to snuff out the shame of having my poor, unsuspecting puppy see me in such a state. I really was ridiculous.
The heavy beats of Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” suddenly vibrated through my closed bedroom door, the music blaring from the living room, the same as every other morning. It was a lame ritual for me and Devon that started right around the time the song hit it big on the radio, we’d been shamelessly obsessed ever since, hence my bichon frise’s name, Slim Shady. It was what we played in the morning to pump ourselves up for the start of the day. Worked better than caffeine. Even in my pathetic state, I couldn’t help but start bobbing my head as I tossed the pillow aside.
My door flew open, banging into the wall as Devon rapped the opening lines of the song. With a giggle, I reached over and grabbed my glasses off the nightstand and slid them on, everything around me finally coming into focus. “Would you capture it?” she continued, “Or just let it slip?”
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I laughed as she jumped up on my bed and began bouncing around.
She plopped down next to me and Slim Shady danced around us, hopping up and down excitedly as Devon smirked at me. “Morning, sunshine. Someone looks like they spent the night doing the dirty in her head.”
I groaned and rubbed at my temples. “This is all your fault. If I hadn’t let you get me drunk, I never would have propositioned that guy, and I wouldn’t be having these damn dreams every night.”
“You should be thanking me!” She reached over and smacked me in the arm. “It was my idea to get you over your ex by getting you under someone else. I’m the only reason your va-jay-jay didn’t get all dusty and full of cobwebs! Because of me, you had the best sex of your life. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I hit her back and she pouted as she rubbed the sore spot on her arm. “Hey, it’s not my fault you pulled a runner before getting the dude’s number.” Her brown eyebrows shot up on her forehead and her blue eyes got big. I knew that look. That look never bode well for me. “We should totally post on Craigslist. Missed Connection. Maybe you’d be able to track him down that way and go for round two.”
I glared. “You really are a terrible best friend. You know that? I regret ever telling you about that night.”
Before she could reply with a snide comment, the wall behind my headboard started shaking. “Turn the fucking music down!”
I rolled my eyes and snatched the remote from Devon’s hand, pointing it toward the living room where we kept our iPhone doc and lowering the volume.
“God, that guy’s such a douche!” Devon hopped back up to her feet and banged on the wall in return. “Pull the stick outta your ass, dickhead!”
The guy on the other side, our neighbor of exactly one week who we’d yet to see in person, pounded back. It had been like that for the past seven mornings. We’d play our pump-up jam, he’d get pissed, then he and Devon would engage in a five-mi
“All right, Dev, just let it go already. One of you is going to put a damn hole in my wall if you keep it up.”
“Well if someone wasn’t such a DOUCHE NOZZEL,” she yelled at the wall, “we wouldn’t have a problem!”
I had to hold her back from pummeling her way through and going after the asshole when we heard him yell back, calling her an inconsiderate cow.
“I got your cow, needle dick!”
My glasses slid down my nose as she struggled against my ninja grip. “Will you chill out?” I grunted as she continued to swing, like the guy on the other side could even see her. “Call me crazy, but I kind of like this place. I’d prefer to stay here than in a box in the alley. I’m not big on the idea of having to share my canned tuna with Homeless Harry around the corner.”
“He called me a cow.” Her bottom lip was poking out as her forehead wrinkled with a frown. “I’m a size six! An eight if I’m a little bloaty or just had Mexican food, but still!”
“I know.” I patted her head, stroking the light brown strands like a mother would a moody teenager as I nodded. “You so pwetty,” I baby-talked, earning myself a slap on the arm.
She turned to glare at the white wall like it owed her money. “One of these days, I’m going to go over there and tear him a new asshole, so help me God.”
I climbed down off the bed, pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose. “Well, just do me a favor and wear a ski mask or something. Your name’s on the lease, so let’s not give the cops a trail back here, please.”
“Great, now get out. I need to shower and head to work.”
She scooped Slim Shady up and cuddled him against her cheek. “Come on Shady, let’s go get some breakfast. I’m thinking sausage and scrambled eggs… lots of cheese.”
“No cheese!” I yelled over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom. “You know he’s lactose intolerant! We learned that the last time… the hard way!”
Other author's books:
- Opposites Attract (The Locklaine Boys Book 2)Nightmares from WithinComing Full Circle (the Pembrooke series Book 2)Almost Perfect (The Locklaine Boys #3)Shrinking Violet (a Colors novel)Chance EncountersPicking up the PiecesDestructive
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