by Trim, Brenda
Her Vampire Bad Boy
Brenda Trim
Burning Desires
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
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About the Author
EXCERPT FROM Dream Warrior BOOK #1 in the Dark Warrior Alliance Series
Author’s Note
The Dark Warrior Alliance
Read the Bad Boy Alpha Series that launched Midnight Doms
Copyright © January 2020 by Brenda Trim, Renee Rose Romance and Silverwood Press
Editor: Chris Cain
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction of this work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the authors.
This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices, but this is a work of fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!
Created with Vellum
Embrace change and uncertainty. Some of the best chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later.
Chapter 1
Harper
Dumbstruck. That’s all I can think as my heart races and my body begs to be owned by the bouncer standing under the black awning outside the club Sophia, Kari, and Tasha took me to. I have no idea what I’m doing here or why I agreed to come.
Then I remember. This is my life. Not the life I was brought up for. Mine. And in order to discover who I am, I must go out. Experience new places. Meet new people. Like the sexy bouncer who is making me forget everything else.
He greets those waiting in line with high hopes of getting into the club with cool indifference, and waves VIP guests through. Our chances of getting in seem minimal given the long wait and how few actually get past the velvet rope. I’m perfectly content waiting in line at the moment because I’m indulging in a fantasy of sexy bouncer and enjoying how it plays through my mind.
I imagine him waving me over, because, of course, he finds me irresistible. He kisses the back of my hand and tells me how beautiful I am. Then he proceeds to watch me all night and interrupts any time someone else asks me to dance.
Confusing butterflies take residence in my stomach at the smile he shoots another woman. The smile I wish he were shooting at me. It’s the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, his bright shining eyes, and makes a girl feel like she’s the most beautiful girl in the room. That expression of his should be licensed as a lethal weapon.
The other bouncer at the door is just as attractive, but in a different way. One wears a fancy suit that had to be made for his muscular build, while my guy has on a t-shirt and leather jacket. On him it looks as fancy as the suit. He’s James Dean beautiful, and now all I can think about is riding down the Pacific coast with him in an old convertible, wind in our hair.
“Earth to Harper,” Sophia teases as she waves her hand in front of my face while Kari and Tasha smile with her.
“What? Sorry.” I feel my cheeks heating.
“I said I’m glad you finally decided to join us. You won’t regret it. We always have fun,” Sophia explains as we shuffle forward. We are almost to the front now and more butterflies unfurl in my stomach.
What I don’t tell Sophia is that I am struggling with the guilt bombarding me from all sides. A little voice whispers in the back of my mind that I shouldn’t be here. That the path I’ve chosen is wrong and sinful. That I’m shaming my family. The voice sounds a lot like my parents. It’s only the sight of Mr. Sexy that distracts me from the negative mental message playing on repeat.
Tasha says something about hoping to see a guy she danced with last time they were here. I nod my head and try not to be so obvious about ogling the bouncer or how much I don’t fit in at Club Toxic. The women being waved through could not be more different from me.
They all look like super models or actresses in slinky, sexy dresses with high heels while I stand here in a muumuu. Seriously, I might as well be in one of those big loose dresses I saw on women when my family and I visited Hawaii several years ago. The skirt I bought just for this night is the most scandalous thing I’ve ever owned.
It hugs my hips while not being too tight and falls to mid-thigh. Clearly, I missed the memo dictating the length be right below the curve of my backside so my granny panties would be on full display if I bend over or lift my hands above my waist. Although no one wears bikini briefs in this club from the repeated glimpses of thongs I keep getting.
We are next in line and I shiver despite the heat of the Tucson night. I’m still adjusting to the weather here. Where I grew up it was never hot throughout the night, even in the middle of the summer. On the fourth of July I always needed a light sweatshirt to combat the chill after the sun set and temperature dropped. It’s early September now and I’ve had to run my air conditioner day and night.
Right as it’s our turn, the sexy bouncer I hope to make babies with is distracted by a limo pulling up to the curb. The other guy standing there checks our IDs and waves us through. So I never get to see if sexy bouncer would shoot his amazing smile at me or not.
The loud music pounds through the soles of my feet as I follow my friends. It is infectious and makes my blood sing with anticipation. I’ve never been to a place with such hedonism on display and it makes me want to run away while praying to God and asking for forgiveness while also wanting to throw caution to the wind and dive right in.
None of us has a coat to check so we continue into the main area. I shouldn’t be surprised there is a coat room with two well-dressed guys manning it, but I am. I try my best to ignore the feeling that I stick out like a sore thumb and wind my way deeper into the club, following my friends to one of the few tables left at the back. The low lights add to the sensual atmosphere.
“Can we get four margaritas please,” Sophia asks the waitress that comes to our table before we even set down our purses.
I open my mouth to object, but nothing comes out. I’ve never had an alcoholic beverage and my instinct is to refuse it, but I am not that girl anymore.
I don’t have to drink it when it arrives. Tasha and Kari bounce to the music and scan the crowded room. The tile lights on the dance floor seem to flash with the beat of the music. My head jerks at what I see out there. Meat market, I think as I see women gyrating against men, hands groping, and lips tangling. I decide not to focus on anything for too long. It only adds to my jitters and guilt.
I have no reason to feel ashamed that I came here with my friends. I have done nothing wrong. I’ve tried more times than I can count to delete the mental tape that plays through my head. I freaking hate the self-doubt and shame my parents instilled in me.
Our drinks are delivered faster than I thought possible. I pa
y for the round since I know I’m not going to drink it anyway. The others waste no time downing theirs while I stir mine and watch the waitresses with their short shorts and leather collars around their necks. I gape at the choice of wardrobe.
A gasp escapes Tasha’s mouth before she claps her hands and grabs onto Kari. “He’s here. Let’s go dance.”
They all head to the dance floor, but Sophia pauses and looks back at me. I wave her away. “Go get your dance on. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m going to finish my drink,” I lie.
“Okay,” she agrees. “But don’t take too long.”
My eyes dart around as my friends leave me at the table. I tap the wood surface and fidget. I should leave. I don’t belong here.
Stop being afraid and take a chance, my mind practically shouts. Throw back a drink and ask that hot guy to dance.
That’s easier said than done. I have no idea how to act in this situation. I’m at an actual bar with drinking, dancing,…and sex. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and experience new things. Mission accomplished. I’ve never seen anything beyond kissing and people here are doing so much more than that.
There is a guy dancing behind a woman with his hand in her panties. The expression on her face makes mine heat at the same time my body reacts. My stomach wobbles while tingles build between my legs. This seems so wrong, but I can’t deny my curiosity.
That realization shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. I’m at Club Toxic because I’m through following an archaic religion that prefers to control my every thought and move. Before my eighth birthday I was brainwashed to believe my place in this world, my purpose, was to marry whoever my parents chose for me. And then I would be under his thumb and have his babies and keep his house and make sure I was the best little wife my parents raised me to be. An education beyond a Mrs. Degree was not part of my destiny.
And yet, despite the teachings, I always knew that wasn’t the right path for me. Even as a young child I questioned my teachers and parents, much to their dismay.
That was another life. I left it all behind. I ventured out on my own.
It strikes me that I am starting completely over, remaking myself without any idea of where I am headed, and it’s scary as hell.
It might be frightening, but I am taking steps.
Baby steps.
Standing in the corner at a nightclub not drinking my adult beverage, steps.
Sigh. I really need to find the courage to move from my position in the corner.
I fidget with my hands at my sides and pull at the hem of my short skirt. I’m feeling exposed. Insecure. Out of place. More guys than I expected are staring at me. They look hungry. Sweat breaks out on my brow when I think of what they want and what they might ask for.
Don’t look anyone in the eye. That way they won’t approach. I focus on the music instead. It’s like a drug coursing through my veins, making me sway with the beat. My body feels foreign as it moves in time with the music. For the first time since leaving home I think I’m on the right track.
Sure, I still have doubts and questions, like, why did I leave home? Or, what possessed me to join Sophia for Girls’ Night Out? But something tells me this is where I am supposed to be. That settles the worst of my anxiety and I finally stop feeling as if I need to run out the door.
Sometimes I just know things. I call it my knowing and have since I was around ten.When I was little I wondered if I was a psychic or something, but I’ve never had real visions. But I’ve always had feelings. An intuition of sorts, but stronger.
When I wanted to move away from my family and the plans that they had for me, I knew I needed to move to Tucson. But even after my big bold move, I refused invitations to go out with the girls. Until tonight. When they asked me to go to Club Toxic with them, something told me I had to go.
Despite my knowing telling me that I should come here, nothing in my life prepared me for this outing. I’m much better suited for church pews and prayers. Born in the great state of Utah, I was raised to be God fearing and well-behaved.
My parents didn’t attend the same church as everyone else in my school. That wouldn’t have been nearly as bad. Instead, they drug me to what I’d call a cult rather than a religion. My parents selected the state because most people that live there are religious, therefore there was less chance of us being exposed to corruption.
Sitting in the club, I’m as far from my upbringing right now as is possible to get without committing sin.
The day I moved from Ogden, Utah to Tucson, Arizona I promised myself I’d leave that life behind. I am anxious to discover who I am and what it is I want. What I want right now is to discover what makes the woman across the bar throw her head back and close her eyes. The guy kissing her neck seems as entranced as she does. I can’t see his hand under the table, but I see his arm moving. No doubt he is fingering her while kissing her neck. The tingling in my core intensifies.
No way are these urges and cravings evil. How can sex and pleasure be vile things? I want to find out for myself.
My eyes travel back to the sexy James Dean look alike guarding the door. He is hands down the most attractive guy outside of movies. Speaking of movies, he should be in them. His leather jacket fits him like a glove, emphasizing his muscular arms and chest. A tattoo peeks above the collar of his shirt. He scans the crowd with an air of authority, but the glint in his eyes is sensual as he watches couples practically having sex where they dance.
Everything about him screams Bad Boy, and I want to throw myself at him and beg him to lead me astray.
I start to move in his direction and can’t wipe the smile from my face even after I stop moving. I can’t approach him. I’m shocked I even had the thought, let alone took several steps toward him. Seems as if I am determined to make a fool of myself tonight.
It’s no stretch to say that I am not his type. The women he keeps checking out are scantily clad, outgoing vixens. I am not a vixen. The only v-word that could be used to describe me is virgin. A pathetically inexperienced sad virgin, with a capital, underlined V.
Right before I force myself to stop this madness and back away slowly, his gaze lands on me.
My legs shake and heat creeps up my neck. Initially I think it’s from arousal. But nope. When his gaze slides right over me without lingering, it’s without a doubt embarrassment.
I have no idea what’s gotten into me tonight. Normally, I never fantasize about guys. My focus has been on obtaining an education so I could get a job far away from my dysfunctional family. Now that I’ve achieved my goals and gained my freedom, I don’t need to get hung up on one guy. There is a bar full of good-looking men right in front of me. And several of them are showing me more than passing interest.
“Girlfriend. What are you still doing standing here?” Sophia demands as she dances over to our table. “And, you haven’t touched your drink. We’re here to have fun, Harper.”
Shaking my head, I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m easing into the evening.”
“Well. It’s time to jump in with both feet,” Sophia tells me as she holds up my drink. “There are sexy men waiting to dance. Drink up and let’s go.”
My stomach flutters as I grab the glass and take a sip. It’s my first taste of alcohol ever, and I swear I’m drunk already. A giddy, euphoric feeling washes over me, making me smile and dance right there at the table. I take a bigger sip this time.
“This is actually very tasty,” I say after I gulp down half the drink. “I didn’t expect it to be so delicious.”
“You talk as if you’ve never had a margarita,” Sophia teases me.
“Ummm, because I haven’t.”
“How is that possible?” she asks incredulously. “You’re twenty-four years old.”
The smile slides from my face. How do I answer Sophia’s question? Telling her the truth will put my crazy on full display which I do not want to do. “I was busy going to school and studying for my master’s degree.” I reply, evading her que
stion, but telling the truth, nonetheless.
“I was studying too, but I never missed a party.” Sophia turns to face the dance floor. “Finish that and we’ll go dance.”
My head turns in the same direction and I notice several couples and groups wrapped around each other. My jaw hits my chest for a second before I snap it closed. No reason to make her think I’ve never seen people making out. But I haven’t.
Church dances were nothing like this. You could put dictionaries between bodies at those dances. A strand of hair wouldn’t fit between most of the couples and groups on the dance floor at Club Toxic.
It’s now or never, I tell myself. I gulp down the rest of the margarita and follow Sophia to the dance floor. My friends turn toward me, and we start jumping and moving to the song. My head starts spinning and I’m not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the masses of sweaty bodies. Regardless, I let go and let the music move through me.
Suddenly, all of my insecurities and doubts vanish under the pulsing lights. I lift my hands above my head and sway my hips. Sophia is next to me, along with Kari and Tasha. A smile spreads across my face as I start thrusting my pelvis and moving my upper body like they do. Or try to, anyway. I expect someone to shout something about me having a seizure, but I feel so giddy I don’t care.
Hands land on my hips, making me gasp. I turn my head and my vision swims for several seconds. I have to close my eyes to clear everything up. When I open them, I realize I’ve stopped dancing and there’s a guy behind me holding me close.
“Hello, pet. Dance with me,” he commands. He looks at me from over my shoulder with predatory eyes. I suddenly feel like a rabbit caught in a trap and look away.