by Kayley Shaye
Pounding music blares through the speaker, and the dance floor is packed with sweaty bodies. I jump and dance to the music, letting the adrenaline take over me. My black leather jacket bounces on my shoulders, and I think my combat boots stepped on a few toes. But who cares, right?
I’m here to forget—to forget my problems and be myself, even if it is just for one night.
I walk confidently to the bar and wink at the flustered bar boy. I may have let my crop top ride up my torso a bit too much, but I won’t remember this night anyway. The bar boy comes back and gives me a shot. I chug it down and go back to the dance floor.
I sway my hips to the music. Just for this night, I am Jesse Marks, the bad girl who just doesn’t care. Tomorrow, I will be back to being the good girl Jessica with her perfect grades and quiet attitude. I nearly choke up my shot at the thought.
Happy endings aren’t given to the bad guys, but they are given to the good girls and the heroic knights.
I shake the thought away and put my hands in the air, letting my hair fall down and drape around my hips. My crop top rides up again until it basically looks like a sports bra. Damn, I feel hot.
Maybe my confidence isn’t my best trait, but I don’t care. I’m here to forget.
I feel a pair of hands grip my waist and lips press against my neck. I shiver and would have pushed the guy away if it wasn’t for the sparks that came with our physical contact. I still feel awkward, but I ignore it. Just have fun this night. Just this night.
His lips were soft, and I could see a bit of his extremely dark brown hair. I gasp as I felt his nose slide down the hollow of my throat while his lips never left my skin. I felt him smirk against my neck. Oh crap, it feels heavenly.
“Hey, wild girl. Seems like you’re having fun,” he murmurs. It sends goose bumps down my back when I hear his husky voice. I keep swaying my hips to the music almost subconsciously. He picks up a strand of my hair and plays with it for a while.
“I bet the good boys can barely handle you,” he says, burying his face in my wavy hair. He inhales, and instantly, I feel insecure. I probably smell like sweat and alcohol. I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t. So, I won’t.
“So, you think you can handle me?” I taunt, my voice low and inviting. I turn around and hook my arms around his neck, deciding to act bold and tease him a bit. I can see his face clearly now even with the dim lighting.
God really blessed him with his beautiful face, sharp features, high cheekbones with a few freckles dotting his olive skin, dark and long eyelashes framing his bright blue eyes, soft and pink lips pulled into a smirk.
“Babe, you won’t know what hit you,” he says, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. His eyes rake through my face and features. I raise an eyebrow in disbelief. I may fake looking like an amateur when it comes to boys for the sake of reputation, but I am not an idiot.
“You sure about that?” I push him off me and walk towards the door. I nod to the bouncer who knows me too well already and make my way towards my black bike.
I hear footsteps behind me, and I immediately turn around with my fists raised. Suspicion comes like second nature to me. And on a night like this, anything can happen. The person suddenly stops and raises his hands in a sign of surrender.
Of course, that mysterious guy would follow me out.
His face is illuminated by the street lamp hanging above him. It cast dark shadows on his handsome and boyish face. I glare at him, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife I always keep in my back pocket.
I’m not going to stab him. No, that would be a waste of the beauty that he is all too aware of. But if he tries anything, I swear he will regret it.
“You can’t drive. You drunk some shots before,” he says carefully. I laugh at his innocence. Unlike most inexperienced teenagers, I am not a lightweight. I need to take ten shots before actually being properly drunk. I only took one. It’s not nearly enough to make me drunk.
“Oh please,” I say, brushing it off. I fish out my keys from the pocket of my jacket. He looks around, confused.
“Where’s your car?” he asks. I roll my eyes and hop on my bike. His jaw almost drops when I turn the ignition and the beast roars to life. I smirk smugly at his surprised expression. He looks ridiculous.
“Don’t have one,” I say. I’m about to release the brakes when I feel his hand touch my shoulder. I turn around, and his face is now filled with concern and some sort of panic. He runs his hand down my hair, stroking it carefully as if I can disappear any second. I tilt my head and wait.
“Will I see you again?” he asks, his voice sounding vulnerable. I smile softly before leaning in and kissing his freckled cheek softly. He gasps and seems stunned by my actions. I don’t know why I did it either. I’m just acting on impulse. I rest my hand on the side of his face for a few seconds.
“Why don’t we let fate decide?” I say before letting go and speeding through the dark streets back to my house, back to my boring and dreadful life, and leaving the angel I just met far behind.
Hopefully, I will never have to meet him again. No one can know I’m a bad girl.
~
I ponder over the kiss I planted on his cheeks and if it was the right thing to do as I climb up the wall up to my bedroom window. I can do this with my eyes closed.
Or not.
I lose my grip and come crashing down hard. I think I broke my ankle or something. I wiggle it around and am relieved to find it just a bit bruised. I groan just as the lights from the window beside me turn on, and my mother’s head peers out.
Crap. There goes my good girl reputation. My weird mind directly lists a ton of excuses for my current predicament.
I have slept-walked? Nah, too unlikely. I have fallen asleep near my window and fell off? My parents will never believe that. Those strict and never understanding bastards are too suspicious for their own good. I have walked to the window and tripped?
My mother’s shouting is soon blocked out by my own brain as I force myself to think.
“You are in big trouble, Jessica Marie Marks! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Climbing down your window like some hooligan that—”
Ugh. Parents, am I right? They just don’t get the situation at all and instead, are really quick to point their finger. They’re always preaching about respect and listening. Well, how the hell do you expect me to respect you when you don’t respect me? Nothing is free in life at all.
I learned that the hard way. They may trick you into thinking that you landed yourself a free meal. But it’s always too good to be true.
If you enjoyed this sample, look for
Bad Girl in Disguise
on Amazon.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to think Michelle from BLVNP and my editor, Lyndon Trinidad, for making this dream become a reality.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading Dancing with Satan! I can’t express how grateful I am for reading something that was once just a thought inside my head.
Please feel free to send me an email. Just know that my publisher filters these emails. Good news is always welcome.
[email protected]
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the book. Please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads because I just love reading your comments and getting to know you!
Can’t wait to hear from you!
Kayley Shaye
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kayley Shaye is a fiction writer who began writing the novel Dancing with Satan at just 14 years old. She was born and raised in Tifton, Georgia, and holds an undergraduate degree in Criminal Justice.
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