Bad Boy Biker Boots

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Bad Boy Biker Boots

  Copyright

  Thank You!

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Brynn Paulin

  Bad Boy Biker Boots

  The Bad Boys

  By Brynn Paulin

  Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  www.supernovaindie.com

  Powered by Your Imagination

  Bad Boy Biker Boots

  by

  Brynn Paulin

  First, I end up at a dive bar.

  Second, my date stands me up.

  Third, the sorority squad from my psych class shows up. I think they’re slumming it and looking for trouble. They’re sure ogling trouble over there playing pool in his bad boy biker boots.

  So when they start in on me, making fun at me for being alone and calling me a plain Jane nerd, I take matters into my very Type-A hands. Challenge accepted. I march right over to Biker Boots and throw myself into his arms. And he kisses me back!

  Uh-oh. What am I going to do now?

  Copyright

  © 2019, Brynn Paulin

  Bad Boy Biker Boots

  Cover Art by Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Electronic Format ISBN: 978-1-62344-341-2

  Published by: Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Thank You!

  Thank you for your purchase of Bad Boy Biker Boots.

  I hope you enjoy the story and will consider leaving a review or telling a friend about the book.

  I love hearing from readers! To keep in touch and follow my news, please visit me on my website at www.brynnpaulin.com.

  Dedication

  For all the Good Girls who love a Bad Boy

  And

  For all the Bad Girls who love Bad Boys, too

  And

  Well, hell, for all the girls…

  I love you all!

  Chapter One

  ~ Luisa ~

  This was why I didn’t date.

  I looked around the bar, realizing my date had stood me up. This crap was so high school. I’d thought when I went to college this bullying junk would stop. But apparently, Berrien College was high school two point oh. And this date was a joke on me.

  When I’d moved here, leaving my last foster home, I’d thought I’d left behind the nerd-persona that had always made me a target. Guess not. Brad had bugged me for weeks to go out with him, and despite my blaring reservations, I’d finally said yes just to get him to shut up. He should have been here almost an hour ago. Deep down, I knew he wasn’t coming.

  Trying to appear disinterested, I took a casual perusal of the room.

  Frankly, there was more leather, boots, scruff and tattoos in this place than I’d ever be comfortable with. I mean…most of the patrons here were middle aged and rough looking. As a barely twenty-one-year old, in my jeans, heels and a soft, light-blue sweater, I felt totally out of place. The neckline of my top drooped down one shoulder exposing the pale, smooth skin—innocent enough and okay for my date but maybe too much while I was here alone. I fought the urge to yank it back up, even though it was made to fit like this.

  I glanced at my phone. No messages and in five minutes, Brad would be a whole hour late.

  Was it pathetic of me to wait this long?

  At first, I’d stayed to give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean, maybe, his car had broken down or there had been traffic or something. Then, as time passed with no messages, I’d only stayed because I was following through on the decision I’d made. What can I say? I’m kind of obsessive like that.

  My eyes caught on one of the guys playing pool. It wasn’t the first time. Over and over during the past almost hour, I’d been drawn to him. Excuse my language but the man was fucking hot. So much hotter than anyone else in this place. He didn’t have the same biker club vibe as the other guys, though he seemed to have a camaraderie with them. He chatted and joked around with the other harder, scruffier guys as if he were one of them, but he had an aura that set him apart.

  It wasn’t that he was softer than they were. There was nothing soft about that man, from the way his muscles stretched his black tee and jeans to the black ink that covered both his arms. His black biker boots completed the look. Just the slightest bit of scruff darkened his square jaw, more than stubble but less than a full-on beard. Controlled and purposeful.

  I liked that, controlled and purposeful. Those two words exactly described my personality but were the reason so many people considered me a nerd. I was not a nerd. Perhaps, I protested too much, but didn’t it take one to know one? Of course, people who hadn’t known me in high school had made that judgment of me in college, so maybe, I was the one who was wrong.

  My mouth watered as I continued to stare-but-not-stare, covertly checking out his ass as he bent over the pool table.

  “She’s such a geek! I can’t believe she fell for it.”

  “Look at her sitting so pitiful and sad over there. God, I can’t imagine being so needy.”

  “Maybe, she doesn’t realize it was all a joke yet.”

  “Oh my God, how pathetic.”

  My spine stiffened, and I side-eyed to see who the hell those four women were, and who they were talking about. Okay, right. I knew they were talking about me, but I was hopeful I was wrong.

  Was that terrible of me? To hope they were talking about someone else? For once?

  Fuck me. It was the sorority squad from my psych class. Damn it. I turned my head away, closing my eyes as my chest ached. A sick knot clenched in my belly.

  Just once, I’d like to be accepted. To be one of the gang. Was I too needy?

  God, lately, it seemed as if I were questioning everything about myself. Maybe, I should go to therapy to be less OCD. Maybe, I should try to be less smart. Maybe, I should hire a stylist to look more fashionable—though I had to admit, my clothes didn’t look any different than the bitch squad over there. My hair wasn’t highly styled, though. I wore it in a long flow down my back, the natural waves giving it body. Princess hair. I personally thought my locks and my blue eyes were my best features. I had a curvy figure, and I wasn’t stick-thin like the girls making fun of me. But my weight wasn’t what I got scoffed at about.

  Nope. It was because I was a nerd. Geek. Weirdo. Dork. Freak.

  A loser.

  Tears pricked my eyes, and I squeezed my lids shut. I would not cry. God knew my eyeliner and mascara probably weren’t waterproof. That would be just perfect, to let them see me with streaks on my face from crying.

  My hand clenched on my clutch. Why was this my life? I did everything I could to do the right thing. Maybe, that’s why I didn’t fit in. I was too much of a good girl…a goodie two shoes. Whatever.

  I mean, yeah, I always did my homework and never cheated. Yeah, I was always on time. Yeah, I didn’t date. This train wreck was the perfect example of why not. And yeah…I was a virgin. I’d never even kissed a guy so didn’t that stand to reason. br />
  “I wonder how long she’ll stay here, hoping he shows up,” I heard.

  “Rumor is, he’s actually out with Stacey,” another girl said then giggled. “They were going over to McKenzie Point to fuck.”

  “Geez, so crude,” another girl admonished, though I heard her laughing.

  Speaking of fucking… Fuck this!

  Turning toward the bar where my Coke sat at my elbow, I grabbed the glass and took a sip. Then I looked toward the pool table where Biker Boots was just straightening from a tough shot. Man…his ass. I bit my lip, wondering what it would feel like under my hands.

  Suddenly, I wanted do something. To not be afraid to take a chance. To not be geeky, OCD Luisa. To take a chance and be daring. Taking a deep breath, I stood and glanced at the quartet of bitches who were watching me. After giving them what I hoped was a cocky smirk, I marched across the space separating me from the bar and Mr. Biker Boots. I tossed my clutch on the high stool where his leather coat was draped then continued over to him, stepping face-to-chest with him. I looked up into his startled eyes.

  He quickly hid that behind a sexy grin. “Well, hello there.”

  “Hi. Are you single?”

  “Um, yeah?”

  “Good.” My hand went behind his head—thank God for movies because I had no clue what I was doing—and pulled him down to me. He immediately took over, tugging me to his body and covering my lips with his. My legs went weak and I think I moaned. Not sure, because everything went fuzzy as his hand fisted in my hair and his other grasped my hip, yanking me closer to the hard body I’d been drooling over.

  His tongue probed my lips, and on another groan, I opened for him. He tasted of the beer he’d been drinking, and suddenly, it was one of the best flavors I’d ever experienced. Crazy, since until now, beer had just seemed gross to me. But on Biker Boots, it was wonderful. Heady. Intoxicating.

  His forehead leaned against mine as the kiss ended.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “Uh-huh,” I mumbled. Wait, was that an observation or an invitation? Whatever, I agreed to both.

  I opened my eyes and stared into his warm, dark, dark, dark gaze.

  “Hi,” I breathed.

  “Hello, Cinderella. It’s nice to meet you, too. But before you kiss me again, you should know I’m not Prince Charming.”

  My tongue swept over my bottom lip, tasting him again. He groaned, and I smiled. “You kissed me.”

  “I guess I did.”

  “You can kiss me again…if you want to.” My teeth sank into the side of my lip. I had no damn clue what I was doing. I prayed to God, Biker Boots wouldn’t laugh at me.

  He didn’t. His smile faded as his gaze burned into mine. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Two

  ~ Dodge ~

  I’d felt her watching me. I’d been watching Princess Cinderella, too. She looked like a fucking Disney princess with all that long golden hair and the sweet innocence surrounding her. Christ, she even wore the same color blue as that freaking dress Cinderella wore in the movie my niece insisted on watching—and yes, I’d seen it way too many times. But hell, Uncle Dodge would do anything for his Little Melon Ball. Someday, she’d hate that we called her that, rather than Melanie, but I’d still call her by the nickname.

  When Cinderella had come over and thrown herself into my arms, my cock had gone rock solid. There was nothing childlike or Disney about all those curves. I just wanted to sink into them, and if I had my way, I’d be over her within the hour, devouring all that sweetness.

  “What do you say?” I asked, when she didn’t answer right away. “Wanna get out of here?”

  Not for the first time, her teeth sank into her lip. I could see indecision warring inside her, then she nodded, and my cock throbbed a yahoo!

  Leading her over to the chair where I’d tossed my crap, I draped my jacket over her shoulders, not liking at all that the swinging dicks in this place had been eyeing the bare skin. She slipped her arms into the too-big sleeves, looking as if she belonged in my leather. Take that, assholes. She’s mine.

  The intensity of my sudden desire for ownership startled me, but my motto in life was to roll with it. If my gut said it was right, it was right. And my gut, not my cock, said this princess was mine. Well, not just my cock. He was pretty adamant that she belong to us, too.

  As such, I needed to get her the fuck out of here before someone tried to close in on my territory. I already wanted to know what the fuck she was doing in this shithole by herself.

  I handed her the little purse thing she carried then slung my arm around her shoulders. When I looked down, I caught her looking over at a group of dumbstruck, plastic girls.

  “You with them?” I asked. They were the polar opposite from her. Cold and fake, not real and so warm you wanted to surround yourself with her. My cock jerked again as I envisioned her thick thighs around my shoulders while I devoured her sweet pussy. Yeah, I wanted to bury myself in her.

  She glanced up at me, smiling sweetly. “No. God, no. I hope you don’t think badly of me for saying this, but they’re bitches.”

  I threw back my head and laughed. This girl. I was keeping her. I knew it deep down in my soul, and I didn’t even know her name yet. My lips pressed to her sweet-smelling hair. Flowers. She smelled like some kind of flowers. Lovely but not overpowering.

  “What’s your name, Princess? I don’t mind calling you Cinderella, because you sure as fuck look like a Disney princess, but I’d like to know what you’re really called.”

  “Really?” she breathed. “You think I look like a princess? It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

  “That’s part of it, I guess.” Someone had done this girl wrong if she didn’t know how fucking perfect she was. I didn’t like it. Grasping her chin with my fingers, I tipped her face up to mine and brushed my lips over hers. “You’re so damn sweet. I could see you singing with birds while they bring you flowers and wildlife prances around you.”

  She squinted at me. “You’ve been watching the Cinderella cartoon?”

  “I have a niece. It’s her favorite. She’s going to die when she sees you.”

  “I…”

  “Not tonight,” I added quickly. Geez, I’d probably scared her with the family thing. “Tonight, you’re all mine.”

  She bit her lip, smiling. Her small hand fit into mine. “I like that.”

  “Good. Let’s go then.” The sooner I had her away from this place, the better.

  “You have a car here?” I asked when we got outside.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have one. I live near the college, so I don’t really need one. Sorry, I mean…” She sighed. “I’m babbling. Sorry. I took an Uber here.”

  “Good.” My fingers caressed over her cheek, already cool from the October air. “Then we can take my bike without a problem.”

  “Your bike?” she gasped.

  “Ever been on one?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ll be perfectly safe with me. Promise.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, still sounding unsure. “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere you want.”

  She licked her lip. “I want to go to your place.”

  Her eyes widened, and she looked more startled than me that she’d said that. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweet thing?”

  She nodded solemnly.

  My eyes narrowed. “You’re legal, right?”

  “Of course! I was in a bar.”

  “They’re not so hot about checking IDs. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  Thank fuck for that. “And your name? You still haven’t told me your name, sugar. I need to know what to call you when I have you under me, my cock buried ten inches inside your sweet little pussy.”

  Her eyes were saucers. Yep, she was a sweet, innocent thing, and I was going to dirty her up and make her mine. Only, I could tell that sweetness was soul deep, integral to her. It didn’t matter
what we did. It wouldn’t go away.

  “Luisa,” she muttered.

  I played with a strand of her soft, golden-blonde hair, twisting it around my finger. “My little Lulu. It’s okay if I call you that? Lulu?”

  God’s truth; I probably would anyway. Hopefully, she said yes.

  “No one else does,” she whispered.

  I waited, my silence letting her know I needed an actual answer. I liked that no one else called her that. It just made her all the more mine.

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Let’s get you home then, Lulu, so we can get to know each other even better.”

  “Okay, Biker Boots.”

  My eyes met hers again, and she was smirking.

  “I don’t know your name, either.”

  “It’s Dodge. I kinda like Biker Boots, though.”

  “I kinda like the idea of you wearing them and nothing else,” she admitted and even in the darkness, I saw the redness flooding into her cheeks. She was trying so hard to be brave and brazen.

  My thumb stroked over one blushing cheek. “I can make that happen. And Lulu?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t have to be anything but yourself with me, okay?”

  She made a face. “Maybe, you won’t like me. Most people think I’m—”

  She cut off, probably realizing she was about to admit something that might put me off. I had news for her: wasn’t happening.

  “Most people think what?” I prompted.

  “Um…”

  “Truth, Lulu. Always the truth with me.”

  “I’m kind of a…nerd or something. That’s what everyone says.”

  I threw back my head and laughed. Oh God…people were so fucking stupid. This girl was perfection, so they made up reasons to belittle her. That thought sobered me, and I wanted to kick all their asses.

  “Those girls in there,” I growled. “They said this?”

  “Everyone says it. Back home. Here at college.”

  “Stupid,” I grated.

  “I’m not stupid!”

  “Not you, Princess. Them. Fuck, they must look at you and be overwhelmed. They don’t know how to take you so they make up shit.”