The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  He hikes a brow. The dark shadows of the dim room enhance the sharpness of his nose and cheekbones, making him dangerously beautiful. “Talk to me. Tell me why it didn’t work out.”

  “He was running around behind my back. With some girl he met when he went away to school. They’re married now and she carries his balls around in her purse.” Clinton lets go of his grave expression just long enough to laugh. “They come into the shop every now and then to order lukewarm bottled water.” I feel a sense of relief flooding my chest. I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding onto that piece of information. Now, that it’s been chiseled from of my heart, I feel a little bit lighter, looser.

  Clinton's eyebrows furrow harshly. “Seems like that decision worked out really well for him.”

  A bitter laugh comes out of my mouth. “Seems like it.”

  He kisses the back of my hand again. “What a dipshit.”

  “I wasted so much time waiting for him. We were together in high school and then I waited for him while he was in college. But when he came home, he’d made different plans. With a different woman. And there I was, broken, afraid, alone. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with…And he left me…” I hate how weak I sound. I hate the pity in Clinton’s eyes.

  He yanks on my wrist and pulls me into his arms. “He’s an idiot…Lucky for me. That means I get to enjoy you.” He presses his lips to the edge of my mouth and I already feel my hunger for him stirring.

  And while I love the way it feels—playing with him, getting lost in his body—I’m not the kind of girl who does casual flings. I don’t have the stomach for it. I need the security of knowing that the person I care about, cares about me. Right now, I don’t voice those concerns, though, because although being with Clinton leaves me so confused, I don’t want him to pull away. Without even trying, this man challenges all the things I’ve always thought were a given. I finally feel brave enough to explore that.

  “Vivian, I know what it’s like to be alone, to feel like you don’t belong to anybody. I know that aching feeling deep in your belly when you just want someone in your corner but there’s no one there…I understand how it feels.”

  Now, I find myself wondering about the dark shadows in his chestnut eyes. What’s the story behind his pain? I’m afraid to ask so I drop my gaze to my lap. "I hate being this confused," I whisper softly. "Usually, I'm in control. Usually I know what I want..."

  With a finger under my chin, he lifts my face toward him. He stares into the depths of my eyes. "You do know what you want. You just can't admit it to yourself."

  As his body inches closer to mine, I hear myself whisper. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Clinton.”

  His gaze is hooked on my mouth. “So maybe we should stick together…”

  My heart is pounding so hard. “Yeah, maybe we should stick together…”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Clinton

  Vivian presses her lips to mine. She’s the softest thing I’ve ever touched. She feels so smooth. The warmth of her mouth is everything.

  She moans for me, falling limp against the couch’s lumpy cushions. She deserves so much more than this. She needs a four-poster bed of roses, with silk sheets and candles burning in the background. Instead, she’s here with me in this cramped basement, touching me like there’s no place she’d rather be.

  She’s the last thing I expected tonight as I prepared to babysit the kids. But when I held up the remote starter to the window and saw her sitting there, nervous, mumbling, coming apart at the seams, my plans automatically rearranged themselves to make room for her. I couldn’t resist the urge to have her next to me. Now, she’s here, under me.

  Her fingers go under the hem of my shirt and she draws them along the ridges of my stomach. Her touch does crazy things to me. My cock pulses for her. I want to be inside of her so much. I press my mouth to hers, nipping on her bottom lip to coax it open. She’s wearing a naughty little smile as she turns her head away. “They said I’m not allowed to use tongue…”

  Her soft giggle mixes with my husky laugh. “Oh, you remember that, huh? But you don’t remember anything else?”

  “Some of it is selective amnesia, I think. To protect my self-image.”

  “Right…” Smiling wryly, I move my kisses down her neck and chest, pulling down the neckline of her top to lick the dusky tips of her nipples. She shudders against me, mewls in my arms, keens closer. And now, I’m pushing the fabric down her fair skin. I’m on top of her, kissing her shoulders. Then I’m taking off her clothes and exposing her beautiful body. “So hungry to taste this pussy,” I groan.

  But when my kisses move close to her pelvis, she goes tense. “No…” she says breathily as she tries to get up off the couch.

  My balance falters and I barely keep myself from falling off the couch. “What’s wrong?” I ask, so dazed that I don’t even sound like myself.

  “I—I—” she struggles with her words. I pull back and watch her. Her eyes go shy. “I want to taste you instead.”

  My ears perk up. My blood is suddenly on fire.

  She drops to her knees and pushes down the waistband of my sweatpants. With her hands sliding up my solid shaft, she looks up at me with hesitation. She wants to know just how far she can trust me. I run my knuckles down the side of her face. “So pretty…”

  Her chest rises on a deep inhale and then her lips wrap around the crown of my erection. She takes me in slowly, inch by inch. The hints of trepidation in her movements tell me that she hasn’t done much of this in her life. And it’s incredibly hot, watching her do it for me.

  Me. The man she called a brute. The man she said was dreadful, grotty and infuriating. The man she considered a mistake. Now, she’s on her knees in front of me, taking me dangerously close to coming down her throat.

  I’m thrusting softly into her mouth and I’ve got her hair wrapped around my fist. She looks up at me—I’m panting, straining, fighting the urge to come—and a contented air of control unfurls across her features. She knows she has the upper hand and she loves it. Suddenly, she’s eager, she’s curious, she doesn’t care how messy it gets. Her head bobs quickly. She takes me deep into her wet mouth as she tenderly weighs my balls in her soft palms.

  “I’m so close,” I warn darkly, my voice cracking around my words. Gripping my thighs, she bobs her head faster and faster. I swear under my breath and pull her hair. She moans. The vibration causes my whole body to go stiff. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

  I’m aching to send that burst of lust straight down her throat, but I’m not sure she could handle it. So my fist curls around my dick and I yank it out of her mouth. Cum spurts all over her naked chest, warm and thick rolling down her fair skin.

  She gapes down at her body in disbelief. I just baptized her tits with my semen.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vivian

  So, the next morning I’m really having a moment of confliction with myself.

  Because I spent the night with Clinton. We screwed like rabbits, wearing down the springs of his pull-out bed. And when it was over, I laid my cheek on the thick, warm slab of his chest and listened to the drumbeat of his heart, all while asking myself questions I’m too scared to answer. Am I falling for this man? I don’t even know him but I think I'm falling nonetheless. What's wrong with me? Have I lost my mind?

  Under my arm, I grip the flask of black bean soup he gave me as I was leaving his bed and I unlock the cupcake shop's front door. My lips are too swollen to smile. My mind is too disoriented for reason. Despite the sore achiness between my thighs, I just want to grind my pelvis against the closest hard surface. Who am I anymore?

  I trudge through the dark bakery and find my way into the office where I shrug out of my coat and tuck my purse into the bottom drawer of the desk. Dropping down into the swiveling chair, I take a sip of the soup. Delicious. And now, I’m smiling even as anxiety about what's happening between us bounces about in my mind.

  There’s a tender spot o
n my chest. I outline it with my fingertips, replaying the feel of his lips working there as his erection stretched my channel. I’m a glutton and all I can think about is how long until I can get some more of him. I scold myself, trying to suppress the thoughts with a heavy dose of self-discipline. Those efforts fail miserably.

  I hear footsteps approaching from down the hallway. I look up. Oh god, here comes my sister and her fiance. I'm in no mood. My breath smells like onions and penis and I really can't deal.

  But I digress.

  "Morning, Viv, " Leo greets me, his fingers interlocked with Reese's.

  I push on a smile, covering up the warring emotions in my head. "Hey. What are you two up to?"

  Reese's expression is grave and her eyes are misty as she wraps her arms around her man's waist. "Leo's traveling to Virginia with Charlie this morning. Their buddy, Archie, who they fought with in the military—he just got injured in combat."

  I instinctively clench the lip of the desk. "Oh my god. How bad is it?" I ask Leo.

  He shrugs with morose eyes. "We won't know until we see him. But I think it's bad. Very bad." He squeezes Reese tight.

  "I'm so sorry. I hope he turns out to be okay."

  Leo’s head bobs faintly and he presses a kiss to my sister's scalp. “God knows I hope so, too.” Right then his phone chirps and he checks the screen. "Charlie’s outside. I’ve gotta go."

  Reese twines both arms around him and buries her face in his clothes. "You call me, okay?"

  "Of course." They share a long, intimate kiss and declare their undying love for each other, etcetera, etcetera. “Take care of my girl while I’m gone,” he says to me and I nod. Then he ducks out of the room and disappears around the corner.

  Reese is quiet as she takes off her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. Then, she and I go into the kitchen and start preparing for the day. She assures me that she’s okay but I know my sister. Something’s wrong.

  When she leans on the counter next to the bowl of red fondant and drops her head to her forearm, my suspicions are confirmed. “Oh my god, you’re still sick?” I’m really starting to become concerned. This bug is having its way with her.

  Brave as always, she waves me off. “Ugh, I’m just a bit dehydrated. And tired. And dizzy. And I feel like my insides are raw from puking my guts out all night. But I’m okay, really.”

  I’m not convinced, obviously. “Reese, maybe you should go back to the doctor.”

  She does her best to stand upright and casts a smile my way. “Ah, don’t mind me. They ran a battery of tests at the hospital last week. Turns out I caught whatever nasty bug is going around at Brenton’s school. I’ll be fine.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Ugh! You and your pregnancy conspiracies again!” I laugh and so does she. “I swear to you that I’m not pregnant. And I’ll make you a promise; when I get pregnant, you’ll be the very first person I call. Okay? Before Leo, even. I promise.” She sticks out her pinkie finger to me.

  “Are you sure Leo’d be okay with that?” I chuff through my nose.

  “He doesn’t have a choice in the matter. And he’d want me to get you off my back. So I promise, I’ll tell you first.” She wiggles her pinkie in the air. “C’mon. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  I laugh and lock my pinkie finger around hers.

  Satisfied, she pulls a pan of red velvet cupcakes out of the oven and I can almost see her brain shifting gears. “So, Viii-iivvvvv.” She sing-songs my name in an ultra-annoying tone and I already don’t like where this conversation is going. “The big day is coming up next Saturday! I invited a few people and booked us a table at Gallos.”

  I groan as I tug open the fridge to grab the milk and coffee cream. “Reese, no! No no no! The last thing I need is yet another reminder that I’m turning thirty.”

  “Vivian!” My sister throws back her head in a dramatic show of irritation. “It’s only thirty. Damn! You act like you’re washed up and worn out and saggy. You’re still hot as hell. I assure you.”

  “Can we not talk about this?”

  “Sorry, but we do have to talk about it. Because I hate when you get in this mode. Gosh, why are you so hard on yourself?"

  I sigh. I want to tell her to back off but the truth is too overwhelming, too close to the surface to conceal this time.

  "I just feel like I'm failing." I confess quietly.

  “Come on, Viv.” She knows exactly what I’m trying to say without actually having to say it.

  "Go ahead. Call me frigid, prudish, uptight. Go ahead…It’s just that, I believe that things should happen in a certain order and by a certain time, y’know? Frozen chicken should be left to defrost at room temperature for at least eighteen hours. And the garbage cans should be put out on the curb no later than 7:45 on Monday nights. And a woman should be married by twenty-seven and enjoy at least eighteen months of newlywed bliss before getting down to the task of reproduction, a process which should commence ideally during the autumnal months to ensure that childbirth occurs prior to the summer inferno so as to avoid heat stroke, excessive dehydration and general discomfort.” I pause, out of breath. “…And I'm just so very far off of that timeline."

  She gives me a challenging stare. "And who set that timeline?"

  "Reese. Please don't."

  “Don’t what?”

  “You’re patronizing me.”

  "I’m so not patro—” Her eyes narrow suddenly. “This is about Mom. Isn't it?"

  My stomach clenches. The ugly truth. My fear of falling into the crippling grips of multiple sclerosis—particularly before I have a family of my own—is the root of all the major anxiety in my life. This topic is the last thing I want to broach right now. "I'm not talking about this anymore." I turn away from her, pouring milk into the metal carafe.

  "Vivian, you can't let your fear that you might get sick like Mom ruin your life. It's not fair to you."

  There are tears in my eyes already. My voice sounds weak and helpless. "She was thirty when she started showing symptoms, Reese. But by that time, she had a husband and three children and so much beauty in her life. She still had a list of reasons to smile. I don’t have any of those things and it scares me."

  "Well, you don’t have any of the symptoms. That’s what you should be focusing on." Her voice goes soft as she chokes on emotion. "...Stop being cruel to yourself, Viv. You know that Mom would say the same thing."

  “You don’t get it. I don’t expect you to. You’re five years younger than I am, you’re already engaged and you have a beautiful little boy at home. I don’t want to be all rotten apples but you’ve basically got everything on the list of items that I’ve been dreaming of my whole life.”

  She slams a fist on the counter. “So stop complaining and actually go out there and start ticking some of those items off your list. When was the last time you went on a date?” Her eyes narrow with mischief. “Forget that—when was the last time you had sex?”

  The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Last night.”

  Reese’s eyes become alarmingly wide. “Last night? With who?”

  I love my sister to death but we have a certain kind of relationship. There are things we just don’t share with each other. Growing up, I always considered myself one of her role models. It’s not a responsibility anyone explicitly thrust upon me. It’s just something I took on myself. And the number one rule of being a role model is ‘don’t let your mentee discover that you’ve suddenly and without warning morphed into a harlot.’

  Anyway, right now, that rule goes out the window because I’m so perfectly confused. I really need someone to talk to about this and who better to come clean to than my younger sister?

  But this means that I’ll have to start at the top and walk her through all of it, right from the beginning because she is completely in the dark. Even the other day when she contacted the clinic to find out why she wasn’t called to pick me up
after my surgery, she was told that a tall guy with dark hair and tattoos took me home. She thinks it was Charlie! She literally has no idea that I’ve been spending time with Clinton.

  Time to woman up, Vivian!

  I suck in a breath. “I…uh, had sex with Clinton.”

  Okay, now Reese looks like she’s about to fall flat on her bum in shock. “Clinton?! Clinton-the-barber-next-door, Clinton?”

  Wincing, I scratch the side of my face and nod.

  She states the obvious. “But you hate Clinton.”

  “I know, I know.” I say impatiently. Except, I don’t hate him anymore. I actually like him. A lot.

  I have intense positive feelings about his penis, too.

  She stands there in shocked silence for a while, trying to absorb all this new information. Then she bursts out laughing manically. "You slimy little eel!"

  “Don’t make me feel worse about this…”

  “Sneaky, sneaky hussy!”

  “Reese!”

  Clearly on a mission to fulfill her daily entertainment quota at my expense, she disregards my plea. “Was it like you imagined? Rough and pressed up against a wall?”

  I sigh as my thighs clench impulsively. “It was rough…but not quite against a wall. It was actually on the front counter.” This is hard for me to ‘fess up to but I feel that, as part owner of the cupcake shop, my sister has a right to know.

  "On the front counter of..." Reese hooks a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing toward the front of the shop, and her voice trails off. Shock smears her face like carnival face paint. She stares at me in silent disbelief for a second and then she bursts out laughing hysterically again. “Vivian, that is by far the most scandalous thing you’ve ever done.”

  “Um, not quite…” Laughter is bubbling in my chest, too.

  She clutches her hand over her heart. “I’m not sure I can take it but I want to know anyway.”