Hard Time (Hard as Nails #1)

by Hope Conrad

  With one last flick of my finger against my clit, my body explodes and I’m left shuddering, fighting a useless fight to breathe as I ride a wave of pleasure I’d long ago forgotten was possible.

  * * *

  Street

  “Fuck,” I scream as white pearls of cum shoot onto my abs. My entire body shakes as I empty my load onto myself, and in my imagination I see Katie smile as the smallest trace of cum drips from her lips. I’m not even mad I didn’t get the chance to throw her on the bed and fuck her raw, because this right here is the best fucking orgasm I’ve ever had.

  And I can’t wait to fuck her for real.

  To finally own her. God, the thought alone could make me come again if I wasn’t so tired.

  * * *

  Katie

  I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my naked body. I could fall asleep right here in the bathroom, but I get dressed in a hurry and make my way out into the living room where I stretch myself out on the couch.

  It doesn’t take too long before I slowly begin to drift off to sleep, prepared to start the next day even as I acknowledge this day will never be like any other day, if for no other reason than it is the day I officially met Street.

  This is the day our connection, no matter what it’s always been or ever will be, changed.

  Chapter Five

  Street

  Maybe it was because Trevor’s comment about accepting charity stuck in my craw, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to my other friends. After a few days of staying at the motel, Trevor called me and told me he’d cleared out so I went back to my place. On the way, I stopped to turn in my application to work at the bookstore. Unfortunately, Katie wasn’t there. Some other girl was.

  She had a nice rack, a beautiful ass, and the kind of curved smile that would have normally sent blood pumping through my dick.

  But she wasn’t Katie, and my dick was rendered useless.

  She’d introduced herself while leaning over the counter in her tight-cut V-neck shirt, exposing her breasts in a way that should have spoken to me. I didn’t remember her name because it wasn’t important.

  Because she wasn’t her.

  Because she wasn’t Katie.

  I handed What’s-Her-Name my application with a crooked grin and went on my way. Not even four hours later, some guy named George called my cell and asked me to interview that afternoon. After I agreed, I went out and spent even more cash on a few button down shirts. I’ve worn nothing but T-shirts for years, but I’m a man on a mission with my eyes set on the prize. I’m a man at war and I’m determined to emerge victoriously.

  I haven’t won every battle I’ve ever fought, but this is one I can’t afford to lose. The stakes are too damn high.

  After I put on my new outfit, I take one look in the mirror and give myself a hell of a smile. The world is my oyster, I think to myself. And Katie is about to be my clam.

  It’s a terrible analogy, but I’m just too fucking excited to care.

  * * *

  Later, in the back room of the bookstore, in what can only be described as an office in a closet, I sit across from George. He is a solidly built man; husky, balding and sporting a thin gray mustache.

  He glances down at my application and then back at me. There’s a look in his sunken eyes that screams, How did I miss this?

  This is the question with the little box check-marked yes, the one that asks “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” I’d considered lying, of course, but I would have been immediately fired from the job if it later came out that I had lied.

  Instead, I’d hoped I could reason with my interviewer and convince him I’m a changed man.

  “You want to know why I’m a felon, right?”

  He grumbles to himself, as if he doesn’t know how to answer the simple question.

  “To be honest,” I say, “I was young and stupid. I’ll save you all the intricate details, but the important information is that I was into drugs, and I was addicted for a short period of time.” I clear my throat and press my palm against my knee, trying to stop my leg from shaking. I’m nervous as hell.

  If I fuck this up, I’ll never forgive myself.

  “Continue,” George says as he lays my paperwork flat on the desk. For the first time, he’s showing an actual interest in me, and not flashing his gaze between me and my application with nervousness in his eyes.

  “Anyway, things soon spiraled out of control and I began selling drugs to feed my addiction. It consumed me to the point I stopped being careful and got caught with drugs in the back of my car during a routine traffic stop.”

  Nothing I just said is the truth. It’s all an act to pull on his heart strings, and I know the exact musical notes I need to play in order to get what I want.

  I had come to the interview prepared.

  Before I arrived, I dug for information on the internet. About twenty minutes into my search, I discovered George’s son had previously suffered an addiction to heroin a few years back. After a short stint in Regional, he was released into a halfway house where he soon became sober. George himself, being quite the literate fellow, had written an article on addiction outlining his family’s struggle for an online blog.

  But something about the way he looks at me tells me it’s not enough; it tells me that he’s not willing to take a chance on me, and my heart skips a beat here and there while I wait for a response.

  I begin to question my reasoning for spinning this tale. Part of me would have loved to be honest, to say this is who I am; but nobody wants to hear the truth, especially from a felon. It’s easier this way, to lie and deceive, but there is the chance George has seen right through me.

  A squeaking sound pulls my attention from George and I see Katie’s beautiful hazel eyes. She pushes the door open almost sheepishly, like she’s afraid of George when I don’t know why she’d be afraid of someone like him. He’s harmless; too heavy to make the first move should he attack, and too timid to even ask me a simple question. There’s no reason someone as strong as Katie should be afraid of someone like George.

  Unless, of course, Katie isn’t aware of her own strength. That’s probably it. She can’t begin to imagine the things I see in her.

  George notices Katie. “Yes?”

  “Sorry for interrupting,” she says in the same sheepish way she slowly pushed the door open. “I just wanted to…” Her tongue rolls nervously between her lips.

  “Spit it out, Katie.”

  “I think you should take a chance on him.”

  “Is that so?” George ponders out loud and nods his head before returning his attention to me. “Thomas, can you please give us a moment.”

  “Sure thing.” I rise to my feet, and turn to exit the small office, making sure to graze Katie’s arm as I squeeze past her petite frame. The mere friction of our bodies rubbing against each other is enough to spike my blood pressure, and my cock hardens in my jeans. I shut the door behind me and pray for the best as I lean my head gently against the door, trying to overhear the conversation I’m not supposed to be privy to.

  Chapter Six

  Katie

  “What did you say to him?” Street asks in an innocent tone as he leans his elbows against a towering bookshelf, but I can’t shake the feeling that he already knows—like he had his ear pressed to the door the whole time.

  “I just told him I had a good feeling about you.”

  “We talked about that before.”

  “We did.” I smile and pass a short stack of books into his arms. George interviewed and hired him yesterday. I’d spent the entire night spending equal amounts of time cursing myself for my stupidity and trying to tamp down my excitement, knowing he’d be working with me from two to closing every day. I’d spent the first two hours of my shift before he arrived practicing my game face and telling myself to play it cool. So far, I’d managed to do just that. “You think you know me. I think I know you. We both disagree with each other.”

 
; “Then why’d you do it?” he asks with a furrowed brow. “Why’d you take my back?”

  “Because I can.” I shrug and hook my finger for him to follow me to a bookshelf into the neighboring aisle. I can feel the heat of his eyes burning into my flesh with every step I take; he’s watching the way my ass shifts my weight as I take one step after another.

  And I’m enjoying taunting him as much as I enjoy the thought that my fantasies could become reality. It’s a thought that both scares and thrills me. It’s a thought that has guided my recent actions, even if I’m barely willing to admit it to myself.

  I had gone into the back office yesterday without a solid game plan. It had been pure instinct, with no preparation. There had been a voice screaming from the deepest pit of my gut that I needed to stick up for Street, and help him secure a job. It’s that same instinct that tells me I’m playing a dangerous game, and I have no reason to really trust that he’s a good man.

  They’re just feelings, nothing more; but it’s exhausting trying to wrangle such inconsistent emotions. The consequences of my actions won’t be negligible. This job is vitally important to the future I’m working toward, and if sticking up for Street comes back to bite me in the ass, I’ll only have myself to blame.

  Back in the office, George told me he’d be willing to trust my instincts and give Street a chance; but that was a double-edged sword. He informed me, quite sternly, that if something negative transpired, then I’d be out on the street—a pun I’m sure he hadn’t intended—looking for a job along with “Thomas.”

  I should have turned down the deal, but I didn’t.

  “You need to be polite at all times,” I instruct Street as I come to a stop at the halfway point of the aisle. “Which shouldn’t be a problem for you since you’re such a personable, charming fellow.”

  “Right,” he murmurs. “You’re hilarious.”

  “I’m only half joking,” I say and lean back against the shelves, folding my arms one over the other. “When you’re here, you have to be someone else. Like any other mundane job in the world, you check whatever real world problems you’re having at the door.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugs. “I’m a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy.”

  My eyes trail up his muscular arms. His skin is covered in a mash-up of tattoos where colors bleed into black and white tableaus. His button-up shirt is dark blue, a compelling contrast against his tattooed flesh, and he’s rolled the sleeves up to the crux of his elbows.

  “I can see that,” I say with a wide smile and a light chuckle. “Luckily for you, this is an entertainment-based position, so you’re free to express yourself artistically.”

  “I’m more of a CEO kind of guy,” he jokes and I have a hard time not rolling my eyes. “Relax, babe. It’s a joke.”

  “Don’t call me babe,” I bark in an uneven tone. Brett, like so many guys I’d dated, had called me babe, and it takes me back to a time when I hadn’t been in control of my own life. I straighten my posture and point to the shelves. “All the books are in alphabetical order by the author’s last name. There are different sections for each genre. With enough time, you’ll learn where each book is categorized, but if you don’t know, you can always look at the back cover.”

  He turns the top book of the short stack over and examines the cover. “New adult? What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a new category,” I point out. “Now, shelve all those books and then the stack of books on the table in the back. I’ll be up front at the register when you’re finished.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to watch,” I say with a simple smile and turn away from him. When he can no longer see me from his vantage point, I let down my guard and exhale quietly.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Seven

  Street

  As I shelve the last few books remaining, in the fucking romance section of all places, the gears in my mind are turning faster than leaves in a hurricane. To get what I want, every single move I make needs to be calculated. I need to understand why Katie went to bat for me in that office, because right now it doesn’t make sense. As much as I want to believe she did it because she wants and needs me the same way I want and need her, the rational side of my brain seems to know better.

  But more importantly, now that I’ve got one foot in the door, I need to see how far I can push her. It will be the ultimate test for the both of us.

  You can tell a whole lot about who people are by how much they let you push them

  In a hurry, without any more care for the appropriate placement of the books any longer, I shove the last three books in a row at the end of the aisle, brush my palms against my jeans and begin to make my way to the front of the shop.

  When I reach the end of the aisle, I halt and park myself against the shelves. I peek around the corner to find Katie’s face buried in a book that rests open on the counter top. She’s lost in the pages of the story, and I’m lost in her innocent beauty. She’s gorgeous, fragile-looking even, but her strength is obvious in the fitness of her limbs and the scars on her arms. There’s a strong dichotomy between her face and body; like she’s lived a hard life but her softness and femininity will always shine through the darkness.

  “It feels like I’m doing all the work,” I say, and she lifts her head from the book she’s currently devouring. “Doesn’t seem quite fair.”

  “Interesting point of view.” She sticks a bookmark in the pages of her book and closes it.

  I step to the counter and take a quick peek at the book she had been reading; a sweet, southern romance. I’m immediately suspicious. “That doesn’t seem like the type of book you’d be interested in.”

  “Remember when you said you know me?”

  I answer with a simple nod.

  “It would appear that you were wrong.”

  “Was I?” I step around the counter, and behind her. I can feel her unease as she flinches ever so slightly forward, and away from me. I reach my arm around her, to make her believe I’m going to touch her, but in reality, I’m simply reaching for something else. A book I had seen her stash underneath the register in a little cubby earlier. I grab it and toss it onto the counter. On the cover is a sweaty, bare-chested man.

  “You want me to think you’re reading a sweet little romance, but I know better.” I take a measured step toward her. “I know everything. Remember that forever and always.”

  She clears her throat and turns to face me, resting her palms on the counter behind her for leverage. “You don’t know anything about me,” she says through gritted teeth. It’s the same lie she’s repeated over and over again, and I relish the challenge of proving otherwise.

  “Why did you throw down for me yesterday?”

  “I told you, I believe there’s good in you.”

  What is wrong with this girl? How can she believe there is anything good about me? I’m not a good person. I never have been. I never will be.

  “Why won’t you admit it?” I question.

  “Admit what?”

  “Admit that you went to bat for me because you’re attracted to losers.”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “You think I’m attracted to you?” She shakes her head. “No.”

  Her voice is steady, but her cheeks are flaming, and she can’t quite look at me. Her nipples harden beneath her shirt, and her pretty breasts tremble with her quickening breaths.

  “No?” I murmur. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

  “Maybe I was wrong about you,” she says and pushes past me.

  “You weren’t wrong.” I follow her. “You fought for me because you want someone to help get you through the day-to-day in this mundane, boring trap.” I take a short pause, and smile, knowing full well she can’t see me as I launch into my next tirade. “Just admit it, you wanted someone to screw while working this tired-ass job.”

  She whips around, her face flushed with pangs of anger. “Yo
u are such an asshole, and you’re beyond wrong.”

  “Am I, babe?”

  “I told you not to call me that,” she spits the words off the edge of her tongue with venom. It only serves to drive me into pushing her further, just to see how far I can.

  I walk toward her, backing her against some shelves, and brace my hand near her hip. She doesn’t fight back. She just stands there with her eyes locked on mine, and my cock hardens as her breasts begin to heave.

  “I think you want me here because you’re lonely, and you’re bored. I think you want me here because you know I can fuck you like nobody on this earth can.”

  Her jaw tightens, and her lips purse. “Really?” she questions in a husky whisper.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at me with your fuck-me eyes.” I push myself tighter against her body, and shift one leg between hers so that my jean-restrained cock pulses against her thigh. “You know I can take you to the highest point in heaven. You know that I can make you scream and satisfy you and fulfill you in a way you’ve only ever dreamed.” I crane my head and glare at her with a crooked smile. “What do you think about that, Princess? Am I getting warm?”

  She forces a smile. “If you don’t let go of me and back up, I’m going to knee you in the nuts.”

  “Feisty, I like it.”

  “Five… Four… Three… Two…”

  “Fine,” I say and take a step back, motioning my arms to the front of the shop, so she knows she’s free to walk away.

  But she doesn’t. Not right away at least. She glares at me, and for the shortest of moments, I think I’m about to get everything I’ve dreamed of.

  I lower my hand to my zipper, and her eyes follow my rough fingers.

  And then she chuckles. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”