Tough Luck

By Christa Simpson

Dustin Miller is off limits . . .
I know what we're doing is wrong, but he’s the one wielding all the power, controlling my body with a single menacing look. He tells me he can be my dark little secret and I’m honestly having a hard time saying no.

I can’t resist him . . .
I’m supposed to be the good-girl librarian, but this wealthy bad boy has impossibly dark eyes. When we meet, a beautiful chaos ensues. I tell him it’s a mistake. I demand a do-over. But he has something else in mind. I know I should say no—absolutely not. I should turn around, walk away, and never look back. But what do you think happens when he's a “get what I want, when I want” kind of guy and what he wants is me?

WARNING: This story has vulgar language and explicit adult situations and is for readers 18+ ONLY.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Widow Publishing
• Release date: Jan 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781926478067

Christa Simpson

Christa Simpson is a Bestselling Author who entertains her readers with protective alphas and sassy heroines. She writes contemporary romances with a twist and dark thrillers loaded with passion, suspense and sarcasm. In her free time, she juggles family, reading, writing, music, movies and dancing. Any time she can mix them all together is a bonus! Christa is a Canadian, living in Southwestern, Ontario, in a small town you've never heard of, with her husband and two beautiful daughters. She’s a dreamer and has always believed you can do anything you set your mind to.

Book preview

(A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE)

by Christa Simpson

Black Widow

Publishing

TOUGH LUCK

By Christa Simpson

Copyright 2015 Christa Simpson

All rights reserved.

Electronic Edition

ISBN: 978-1-926478-06-7

Cover Design by Christa Simpson

http://christasimpson.com

Copy Editor: Intuition Author Services

Black Widow Publishing: January 2016

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to anyone other than the person who purchased it. In the case that you wish to share this e-book with others, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use, then please return it to the author immediately and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

1: Old Love

2: Bad Girl

3: Thirsty

4: He’s Mine

5: Where Am I?

6: New Mistakes

7: A Secret

8: Forbidden

9: Unwanted Memories

10: Turn It On

11: Brotherly Love

12: Dusty Knows Best

13: Back to the Breaking Point

14: Permanent Disaster

15: To Be With You

16: Ruthless

17: The Stare Off

18: Do It Up

19: Sunset Social

20: In the Garden

21: You Ain’t Getting None

22: Broken Down

23: I’ve Got It Bad For You

24: What’s for Dessert

25: Home Sweet Home

26: Mission Accomplished

27: Library Confessions

How to Support This Author

About the Author

A Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

IF YOU LIKE IT SASSY

IF YOU LIKE THINGS A BIT SWEETER…

Chapter 1: Old Love

Have you ever caught your mother getting felt up by her new boyfriend? No, me either . . . until today. Let me tell you, you cannot unsee that shit. I glare across the room at the wrong kind of love unfolding in my childhood kitchen. I bet I’m frowning now, and I’ve only been in this house for a day. It’s depressing watching my mother and her perfect little relationship with Jason.

I inwardly sigh. It's my birthday—my birthday—the one day a year my mother is mine. So what if they're getting married tomorrow, and who cares if my new brothers are supposed to arrive soon? Not me. I must be the only one here who realizes that they’re late and I'm going out, with or without my mother.

I place the last dish in the cupboard and hang the wet dish towel over the handle of the warm stove to air-dry it. Making a quick turn for the stairs, I finally seem to get my mother's attention.

Where are you going? she asks.

I peer at her over my shoulder, hoping not to find her giggling with Jason’s hands on her ass. Upstairs. Which I thought was quite obvious.

So early?

It's almost ten, Mom. I’m beat, and you have a big day ahead of yourself. All true.

Okay, honey. Happy birthday.

Yeah, happy, I say without thinking, knowing I’m going to get a good old lecture for this one.

My mother sighs and steps toward me, Jason taking a well-timed leave into the other room. I’m in trouble. I can see it in her eyes. Even after living on my own for two years, I can still tell when I’m going to get it. Displeasure hovers in the air between us, but strangely she doesn’t strike. She looks down her nose at me, but her voice is soft and understanding.

You said it yourself, Izzabelle. Tomorrow's a big day for me. We can go out another night.

I nod my head, while completely disagreeing with her. I know there won’t be another night, and I fear that she can still read me the way she always did. A mother knows best, right? Wrong. Not this time. She’s picking him over me, and that hurts. The way Jason has so quickly displaced me is disheartening and dominates my thoughts the closer their wedding gets.

My mother glances over her shoulder to make sure Jason can't hear her. I hold my breath and my body starts to tremble from the weight of this conversation. I can’t shake that rotten feeling. It’s like a ball of yarn has become lodged in my throat and a bunch of lead pellets are exploding in my belly, one by one. She rests her hands on my shoulders and sighs with a start.

You're still okay with this, right?

I can see the worry in her brow and the anxiety in her heart, just from asking me a stupid question. I don't know why I do this to her. She doesn’t deserve it.

Of course, I lie, exhaling a tired breath.

I have to lie. I love my mom. I do. And just because I feel lonely and abandoned, doesn't mean that my mom has to.

A small smile squeaks out of me, as I’m pulled into an embrace that is super tight and lasts extra-long. My heart transforms into a swollen bowling ball, pounding harshly against my chest, heavy with emotion.

Love you, Mom, I whisper, feeling like it could be my last chance to tell her so.

Her resulting smile makes me feel guilty for what I'm about to do tonight, but it’s not going to stop me. When she finally lets me go, I notice company has rejoined us, so I leave my apology to her for another time.

No, Jason, I haven't convinced her to run.

But I see the way he looks at me. He tries to hide it, but I know there’s an evil eye he’s fighting to restrain. I can’t blame the guy. I’m the evil step-daughter who can’t be trusted. I look all sweet and nice on the outside, but inside is a raving lunatic just waiting to come out. Setting all that aside, I’ve known my mom a lot longer than him, and she never dodges her commitments. She promised that she would go out for our celebratory drink tonight. He’s changing her.

I just wanted to go out tonight, the way we always go out, I explain, so they both believe it's not their wedding that's the problem, although it totally is.

My mom slants her head at me, in a motherly gesture that's become all too familiar over the past twenty four hours. I avoid the words I know she’s going to say if I don’t scale these stairs right now. I spin away as they both flash a fleeting parental look at me.

He’s not my father. One parent is enough. I’m getting too old for this shit, and I really don’t need this today—on my birthday.

I try not to act like a child, but my feet are so heavy that when I climb the first few steps, it sounds like I’m stomping.

Damn it! I can’t hide my feelings about this wedding, even if I want to.

I hope they realize weddings aren’t my thing. It’s nothing against them. Well, maybe a little against Jason for stealing my mom away from me, but I have nothing against my mom.

Being lighter on my feet, I slip up the rest of the stairs and into my old room, softly shutting my door and turning over the small button on the handle, just like I used to when I was a kid. I slump my shoulders and close my eyes instantly, with too many miserable memories returning to me.

It's for your own good, honey, my mother hollers up the stairs, adding insult to injury.

And there it is. I rest my forehead against my door and bang it one time, instantly regretting it. I rub the sore spot and sulk while she responds again, One day, when you're older, you'll understand.

Even though her voice softens, I hear every word and commit that tone to memory. She’ll come around, I hear her say to Jason, even though she doesn’t expect me to hear her.

Well, guess what, Mom? I did! And I won’t!

Pacing my old room only stresses me out further. I need to get out of here before I go mad. Shutting out my mother's advice, I toss my wide-rimmed glasses on the bed and pull on my oversized white headphones. Settling into the worn out purple beanbag chair under the window, I try to picture how tomorrow is going to go. Not good. Everyone will be smiling and even I’ll have to fake how happy I am.

I turn up the music until it’s earsplittingly loud, and I sink into a guitar riff from Metallica. Even with this shitty mood hanging over my head, I have to attempt my best air guitar. There’s no avoiding it to this song. I smile, but it’s not going to last if I sit here and do nothing. Music usually soothes me, but there will be no relaxing tonight. I flip into panic mode and jump to my feet when the realization really hits me.

My mom is getting married tomorrow!

Holy fucking shit, shitty.

I shake all thoughts of sabotage from my head and decide to continue with my plan. I'm going out tonight. By myself. No one needs to know, and no one will know, because I'll be unrecognizable. It's not like I'm a regular or even a random. I never go out. Actually, I do go out. Once a year. With my mother. On my birthday.

Since that’s not going to happen, and even my girl Sadie has rejected me tonight, I will have to grow a new persona for the evening. Going in public isn’t necessarily easy for me, either. Starting a conversation with a stranger isn’t something I do, ordinarily. I need a change. Tonight, that’ll change.

After tossing the headphones on my bed, I shuffle through my closet trying to find something inappropriate to wear. Behind my muted beige pants and modest blouses, I find a really short black dress that I haven't worn since I was sixteen. With good reason! It’s short—like really short. My legs must have grown a few inches since I last saw this thing, too. I hold the skirt against my body. I can see it’ll land very high on my thighs. I’ll be surprised if it even covers my ass. Perfect!

I tear off my pants and put the thing on. Oh, I don’t know if I can pull this off. I don’t exactly work out, but I’m not overweight by any means. I have long enough legs. I cringe at the thought of wearing this little black thing in public. Staring at myself in the mirror, I’m forced to look at the positive things. My mother would be devastated by my selection. That fires up my resolve. I think I can pull it off. At least, here’s to trying!

I fight to squeeze the zipper up on the dress, but I do it. With another squinted glance at myself in the mirror, I have to admit, I’m pretty darn happy with the result. This thing holds me in, flattens me down, and boosts me up, in all the right places, showing off my legs.

After smoothing my hand over my flattened tummy, I face away from the mirror and lean forward to check the damage. My ass cheeks practically hang out, as I suspected they would. Overboard? Maybe. One little reach across the bar will be all it takes to give the whole place a show. I guess I’d better lose these granny panties. It’s time to sport something a little skimpier.

Losing the comfy white panties, I break the tags off the one and only thong I own. It’s red and lacy and will ride up my ass, which is exactly why I’ve never worn it, but I hear it’s supposed to make you feel sexy. I flip my skirt over it and look at my bent-over ass in the mirror. I guess if you think wedgies are sexy . . .

Ugh, but my face is so plain Jane. Moving closer to the mirror I gawk and scowl at every freckle. I will definitely have to do something to cover up this face, ugh, and these eyelashes! There’s nothing beautiful about my boring brown hair and pale lashes. I feel like I was beat with the ordinary stick. I can’t go out looking like this.

With a pout on my mouth, I swipe on some foundation that makes my face look unrecognizably clear. Next, I dig to the bottom of my makeup case where I find the blood red lipstick that I only wear for Halloween. I rub it over my lips repeatedly and smack them together until they are a vivid shade of crimson. I smile at myself, my face suddenly looking a lot more glamorous. My finger nails won’t know what happened to them, either, when I swipe on the matching polish.

Wearing my oversized headphones, I wave my wet nails in the air, shaking my bare rear to my favorite beats. My breasts have always bounced, but I don’t remember my ass swaying quite like this before.

Tonight will be fun.

By the time the fourth song is finished, my nails are dry, my lips are puckered and my eyelashes are full, pitch black, and curled up at the edges. I look like an expensive hooker, which is exactly what I was going for, so we’re good.

I boost life into my otherwise flat hair, curling random strands with the hot iron I haven’t pulled out since my eighth grade graduation. With a can of hairspray in hand, I close my eyes and hold my breath. For a few minutes I’m bathing in fumes, but hey, it smells good and it works. Once my hair is set, I crawl into my closet, hoping my one and only pair of black heels are still buried back there.

Yes!

I hold them over my head in triumph, although I never could walk in the darn things. They strap on easy enough, but I really have no idea how I’m going to wear these things all night. I scuffle over to the bed and perch my rear on the edge of it. With crossed legs, I shake my foot, waiting for my mother and her little lover to call it a night. They can’t be long now, but patience has never been my strong suit.

As soon as the last of the lights turn down for the night, I slowly lift my window and pry out the screen. I honestly doubt either of them will hear anything over their giggling downstairs. It makes me sick. I know they're tumbling around in my mother’s bedroom, trying to keep quiet, but they're not—not even a little bit.

That’s my mom, dude. Not cool!

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for my mother. My father was an A-hole and my mother does deserve to be happy again, but why does she have to get her happy on with me in the house? All the more reason for me to escape this place. It’s true, I’ve considered throwing in the towel on this adventure. Twice. Still, the ticking sound of the big, round clock on the wall is deafening. The time to step up to the plate is now.

Can I do this? Hell yes!

Chapter 2: Bad Girl

In all my teenage years, never have I ever climbed down my mother’s trellis. Deciding now is as good a time as ever to learn how, I bury a few twenty dollar bills in my overstuffed bra and throw those damned high heels to the ground. All things considered, it’s pretty easy to get through my window. No cars pass, no thorns snag my dress, and no lights turn on in the house, so I think I’m in the clear.

I drop to the damp grass, grab ahold of my shoes and boot it to my car, only a little scared to see what my mom’s ivy looks like in the morning. With my shoes dangling from my left hand, I pick my car’s lock with the key, as if I’m burglarizing it. My heart is racing, even though I know the odds of getting caught doing this are slim to none.

I never do stuff like this!

There’s something rustling in the bushes, and my heart leaps into my throat as a large male cat slinks out from underneath it. Meeeowww, the cat howls, begging for some attention. A whoosh of air passes between my lips as I smile at him, the beginning of a nervous laugh. Then there’s another sound, just beyond the tall green tangle of leaves, that makes my voice catch in my throat. My insides tighten, waiting to see what else I might run into tonight.

All I see is a small flicker of red, the burning end of a cigarette. God damn neighbors. Why do they have to hide like that? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re spying on me. No matter what time of day it is, either him or his girlfriend is sitting on the front porch. It’s like they take turns keeping watch on my mom’s house.

How creepy.

I fight with my door to get it open, knowing the neighbor won’t speak a word of this to my mother. He’s oh so nosy, but he never makes a peep to me or my mom. I focus on the task at hand, yank open my door and drop in my seat. The ripped leather seat is still warm from the heat of the day.

It’s impossible to close my ratty car door quietly, so I don’t even bother trying. I turn on the car and force both of my front windows down at once, waiting for the air conditioning to kick in. It finally does when I’m parking my car at the Ophelia Lounge.

As I approach the swanky bar, sweat glistening on my neck and chest, I wonder why they even call it a lounge. I doubt much lounging goes on inside. By the look of the people standing in line and the sound of the bass echoing from the building, I imagine a lot of flirting, dancing and drinking goes on in there. I will soon find out.

Taking a quick look both ways, I hustle up to the man blocking the door, careful not to trip on a pothole and land in a mud puddle. As his eyes drive into mine, my shyness tries to encompass me, but I don’t let it. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. I hand him my driver’s license, because that seems like a smart thing to do. It’s what the others in front of me did, so I imagine it’s a good start.

He smirks, has a look at my license and then turns those dark eyes back on me. Are you VIP?

Since I have no idea what he’s talking about, my smile turns sly, while I conjure up something witty to say. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to have to embrace my inner goddess. God knows she’s hiding in there somewhere.

I think I am, I say, with a prowess I didn’t even know I had.

The man’s eyes fall down my body, paying extra attention to my perky breasts and landing on my naked thighs. He smirks and then nods, as I slip the card back into my bra, right next to my car key.