Drilled Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  1 - Lexa

  2 - Lexa

  3 - Lexa

  4 - Lexa

  5 - Cas

  6 - Lexa

  7 - Cas

  8 - Lexa

  9 - Tex

  10 - Lexa

  11- Jason

  12 - Lexa

  13 - Cas

  14 - Lexa

  15 - Lexa

  16 - Lexa

  17 - Cas

  18 - Lexa

  19 - Lexa

  20 - Cas

  21 - Kai

  22 - Lexa

  23 - Tex

  24 - Lexa

  25 - Jason

  26 - Lexa

  27 - Lexa

  28 - Lexa

  29 - Cas

  30 - Lexa

  31 - Tex

  32 - Lexa

  33 - Jason

  34 - Lexa

  35 - Cas

  36 - Lexa

  37 - Lexa

  38 - Cas

  39 - Lexa

  40 - Lexa

  41 - Kai

  42 - Cas

  43 - Tex

  44 - Lexa

  45 - Cas

  46 - Lexa

  47 - Kai

  48 - Jason

  49 - Lexa

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek - Broken In

  About the Author

  Drilled

  By Cassie Cole

  Copyright © 2018 Juicy Gems Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Edited by Dorothy Eller

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  1

  Lexa

  It was pushing midnight at the bar, and I was looking to make a mistake.

  I waved my empty glass at the bartender. “One more, Jimmy.”

  “You sure you haven’t had enough?”

  “One more won’t hurt.”

  I was in that wonderful place between tipsy and drunk. Perfectly lucid and without a slur to my voice, but lacking my normal inhibitions. Enough to have fun.

  I never had any fun. I wanted to change that tonight.

  Jimmy poured another beer from the tap and placed it carefully in front of me. “Special occasion? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink more than two.”

  “Oh, it’s a special occasion alright,” I said, taking a sip. “Lost my job.”

  The smile wiped off his face. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” I hefted my drink. “You’re giving me the one thing I need tonight.”

  I was still in shock from the whole day. It had seemed like any other normal Thursday afternoon at the Bismarck Herald, where I’d worked as a copy editor for seven years—right out of college. All the stories for tomorrow’s print were popping up in my inbox to review, what we called the nightly rush. I was in the break room making a fresh cup of tea, staring out the window at the city while waiting for it to steep.

  And then a truck backed up to the building, opened its door, and unloaded 2,000 empty cardboard boxes.

  An embarrassing mistake, apparently; he was supposed to show up tomorrow, after the owner of the newspaper announced that we were closing down for good. Instead, he caused a panic.

  It didn’t matter, now. The only thing that mattered was the next beer, and the mistake I was looking to make to take my mind off things.

  “Could be worse,” Jimmy said, leaning on the bar. He was a good enough looking kid, but too young for me. Plus, he was Jimmy. I didn’t want to screw up my favorite bar.

  “How could it be worse?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “You’re still young. You’re not tied down by kids, so you could uproot and move anywhere. Maybe this is a chance to start over fresh.”

  If this had happened a month ago, he would have been right. I didn’t grow up in North Dakota; I only stuck around because I got the job at the paper right out of college. I had no other emotional ties to the area. Moving somewhere exotic, like California or the gulf coast, would have been an exciting prospect.

  Except I’d just closed on a house last week.

  A downtown condo with three floors, a garage, and a rooftop deck with a view of the meager Bismarck skyline. A kitchen with butcher block counters and an island. Walk-in closets for days. It was more space than I needed, but easily affordable on my salary. It was my dream home.

  And now it was a weight around my neck.

  “Good point,” I told Jimmy. I didn’t want to throw all my misery at his feet. “We’ll see what happens.”

  He sighed and stared off. “I wish I could get out of this place. Go somewhere fun, like New York.”

  I looked sideways at him. “You could, if you didn’t switch majors as often as I switch jeans.”

  “Hey. I just don’t know what I want to do yet.”

  I pointed my glass at him. “Seems like something you need to figure out before moving to New York.”

  “You’re no fun,” he said, moving down the bar to help someone else.

  I sipped my beer and decided it would be my last. With every passing minute I was feeling more and more sorry for myself. I had no idea what I was going to do. Seven years of newspaper experience wasn’t valuable in a market where newspapers were dropping like flies, and Bismarck wasn’t exactly a hive of business opportunity.

  I wondered if my condo came with a 30-day return policy, like a mattress. Probably not.

  Crap. I needed to distract myself before I started crying in front of everyone. I twisted on my stool and surveyed the room. When had it gotten so empty? It was a good crowd last time I looked.

  Three guys were playing pool over in the corner, but they had two girls with them. Local skanks that hung around here—hung around in a different way than I did. I just came here for beer, usually. There were a handful of college boys at a table on the left. I skimmed over them without a thought. That left the men at the bar, most of whom were old enough to be my father.

  I wasn’t in the mood for that kind of mistake.

  I was getting ready to pound the rest of my beer and walk home when the door opened.

  He wore jeans and work boots, but he wasn’t like one of the normal working class guys that came around. He was cleaner, and younger. His broad chest fit tightly against his T-shirt, showing off more muscles than any man had a right to possess. He turned, and a dirty blond ponytail swung behind his head. Now, normally I rolled my eyes at guys with ponytails—or worse, the suddenly fashionable “man bun.” But this guy got an immediate pass because he was gorgeous. He had a strong jawline with a thin beard, and piercing eyes that scanned the room. He was like Thor from the fricken Avengers.

  His eyes moved across the bar, across me… and kept searching.

  I turned around so he couldn’t see the goofy grin on my face. Where had this guy been all night?

  The mirror behind the bar allowed me to discretely watch him decide whether or not he wanted to stay. The indecision was clear on his face, until he finally started walking. He wound through the tables and approached the bar two stools down from me.

  I tried very hard to ignore him while he ordered a beer from Jimmy. He drank half the bottle in one pull and then sighed.

  “Kinda dead in here.”

  I glanced over. He wasn’t looking my way. Was he talking to me, or to himself?

  Screw it, I decided.

  “Well,” I said, “when you show up an hour before close…”

  He turned around and leaned on the bar, still not looking in my direction. “When you’ve had the day that I’ve had
, you need a beer. No matter how late it is.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  He grunted and took another sip. The way he was leaning on the bar showed of the tan muscles in his arms, corded like thick tension cables. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who bulked up in the gym. He’d earned his muscle doing whatever it was he did.

  I casually checked my phone. It was just after midnight. I ought to be getting home. And yet…

  “You look like you’re waiting for a date who never showed.”

  Now he was looking at me sideways. His eyes were dark pools in the dim bar light.

  “Do I look that pathetic?”

  “No,” he said. “I can’t imagine who would stand you up. But I also can’t imagine why a girl like you would be here alone on a Thursday night.”

  “Technically, it’s Friday morning,” I pointed out. “What do you mean by a girl like me?”

  He shrugged, but didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, since he was right.

  “Maybe I’m a college girl who doesn’t have class on Fridays.”

  His eyes scanned me up and down. I mean really looking at me with his full, undivided attention. It made me shiver, like I could feel his fingers caressing my skin along with his eyes.

  “Nah,” he said. “That’s not you.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “You saying I’m old?”

  “I’m not calling you old,” he said simply. “I’m only saying you don’t carry yourself like a college kid.”

  I twisted on my stool to face him properly. I could catch the smallest whiff of his deodorant or cologne. Something spicy like cloves. “You say that like being a college kid is a bad thing, mister ponytail.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not. But it’s not what I’m interested in.”

  “What are you interested in?” I asked softly.

  His smile destroyed me. The way it raised his cheeks and tightened his eyes absolutely wiped away any inhibitions the alcohol already hadn’t. This was the guy I’d been hoping to find tonight. I waited for his answer like a kid holding out her Halloween bag, waiting to see what candy I would receive.”

  “Right now, I’m interested in beer.” He drank the rest of his bottle, waved Jimmy for another one, and gave me another smile. A different smile.

  An apologetic smile.

  I was shocked as he left the bar, ponytail swinging as he walked toward the pool tables. He didn’t stop—he went around it to the door leading to the bathrooms.

  I turned back to rest on the bar. It felt like I’d been holding my breath the entire conversation, and had only just come back up for air. I didn’t have conversations with handsome men at the bar very often, and especially not this late at night. It was surprisingly stressful.

  I replayed our conversation, analyzing everything I’d said. Had I sounded like a dork? Were my comments only smooth in my alcohol-affected mind, or was this guy into me? Crap, I wasn’t even wearing my A-game in terms of makeup. Just a little blush and mascara.

  Jimmy returned with the guy’s beer. “Hey. Does that guy come in often?”

  He frowned. “Never seen him before. Why? He say anything to you?” His face changed, becoming more serious.

  “No, nothing. He’s fine.” What I wanted to know was if the guy was a regular. I didn’t want to hit on someone I might have to see all the time. The last thing I wanted was to turn my favorite bar into an awkward place I couldn’t visit.

  I go bankrupt and lose my house, it won’t matter.

  I waved my hand in annoyance, trying to banish the intrusive thought. The whole point of coming here was to forget my problems. I wish I could just shut my brain off without getting totally plastered.

  “I’m gunna freshen up,” I told Jimmy. “Don’t let him think I left.”

  I hopped off the stool and wandered across the bar. I took a wide berth around the pool table, but still caught glances from the two girls playing pool with their boyfriends.

  The back hallway was dark, with two bathroom doors on the left and a storage room at the end. I started walking to the ladies room while thinking about what touch-ups to make when he came out of the mens room.

  Deep down, I think I was hoping for this to happen—to run into him back here. Because I didn’t trust myself not to screw things up at the bar, or for him to be too much of a gentleman not to make a pass on a drunk girl.

  I wasn’t looking for a gentleman tonight.

  He jerked with surprise, then cocked his head when he realized it was me. “Hi.”

  “You didn’t tell me what you were interested in,” I said. There was only a foot of space between us. “Other than beer.”

  “I know what I’m interested in when I see it.”

  “And?”

  He smiled.

  He shoved me against the wall and kissed me hard with lips that were warm and tasted like beer. His spicy clove scent surrounded me as he pressed his body against mine, chests and legs and faces touching. I opened my mouth for his tongue and felt it swirl with mine in that sweet, intoxicating dance.

  I wasn’t this girl, but right now it felt like the only thing I’d ever wanted.

  His hand moved up my leg, resting on my hip. I grabbed it and placed it on my ass, and it was the permission he needed to grab me with both hands, squeezing like he wanted to tear a chunk off to take home as a souvenir.

  “You don’t seem to mind my ponytail now,” he whispered.

  “I never did.” I pushed him away, backing him down the hall with my lips. We slammed into the storage closet door and I reached for the door. It was unlocked. We fell inside, slapping at the wall for the light switch. The room was filled with cardboard boxes of supplies and shelves of extra liquor.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  Unable to take his hands off me, my new friend kicked the door closed with his foot. He took control then, picking me up by the thighs and holding me against his body, spinning around and dumping me on top of a box of paper towels. My ass sunk into the box, but it held.

  My fingers worked to remove his belt, then unzipped his jeans. Through the hole in his boxers I reached, finding his member as warm and stiff as could be. He sighed at my touch. It felt perfectly thick in my hand, the rod I needed inside me.

  “Someone might come in,” my new friend said.

  “Then you’d better be quick,” I said, stroking him a few times.

  He bent over me, kissing me back into the cardboard box that was now our temporary bed. I hissed with sudden pleasure as he rubbed my sex through my jeans, and spread my legs to give his large hand more room. Seconds later he was removing my jeans, sliding them down my legs and off my feet. I lifted my butt so he could remove my cotton panties. Open and vulnerable to him, I felt the cool air on my wet sex as I spread my legs.

  He pulled his jeans and boxers all the way off, teasing me with a glimpse of only half his nude body. His legs were smooth and thick with muscle, and his shirt was short enough to show off the pelvic bones that made those wonderful V lines down toward his crotch, and the lowest of his abs. I reached out and touched him, running my fingers up his shirt to feel the ridges of muscle covering his belly like freshly baked rolls.

  He stood before me, magnificent and beautiful. “I don’t even know you’re name,” he said with a wry smile.

  “If you’re good enough, I’ll tell you,” I said, grabbing a handful of shirt and pulling him down to my lips. I felt the tip of his penis rub against my drenched slit, and just that touch was enough to send lightning bolts through my legs. Everything below my waist was warm and desperate; a fire needing to be doused.

  “I didn’t expect my night to go like this,” he whispered while nuzzling my neck.

  I reached down and took hold of his shaft, guiding it in between my lips. “Sorry to derail your plans.”

  He pulled back and looked down at me with those stormy eyes. His angular jaw shifted with a lusty grin. “Not complaining.”

  He pushed inside me, steadily, u
ntil every inch of him was inside. I let out a long moan while watching the ecstasy on his own face. Every inch of him pressed perfectly against my inner walls, that wonderful pressure of lovemaking. He paused there at the apex of the stroke, arms planted on either side of me.

  Slowly, he began to move back and forth. “Fuck, you feel good,” he growled, hanging his head to look down at me. I ran my fingers into his hair, grabbed his ponytail, and yanked his head back up.

  “Someone might come in,” I said, mocking his earlier concern. “Better hurry.”

  I kissed him hard, and he pumped faster. With each stroke I could feel him surrendering to the pleasure, allowing himself to cast leisure aside. “Give it to me,” I crooned.

  “You want it fast?”

  “Ohh, I do.”

  Soon he was pulling back all the way with each stroke and slamming back into me, faster and faster, until he was a jackhammer of masculine meat chiseling away at me from the inside. When he shoved his tongue back in my mouth I practically purred for him, my grip still tight in his hair while he had his way with me.

  I’d never done this before. Never a one night stand, let alone hooking up with a guy in the closet of a bar. The taboo nature of it, and the fear of getting caught in a public place, heightened every pleasure. Increased the stakes to a level I’d never felt.

  It helped that he was gorgeous, and chiseled, and giving it to me exactly how I needed it.

  Every time he slammed his rod into me was like knocking a piece of brick out of the walls, until eventually I felt them all crumbling down. I clenched my inner muscles and screamed a silent scream, mouth open wide with paralyzing pleasure.

  “Uhn,” he grunted, standing up straight and gripping my waist while pumping as fast as he could. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”

  “Come. For. Me,” I gasped as each wave of my climax wracked me.

  “Yeah?’

  “Please.” I wanted him to feel what I felt, to hit his own climax while my orgasm was still ravaging me.

  His face tightened with concentration as he gave me all he had. The veins in his arms bulged as he held my waist almost painfully, thick fingers digging into my flesh with wonderful pleasure. He possessed me in that moment. I was his.