Dane

by Webster, K

  Dane

  Copyright © 2018 K Webster

  Naughty St. Nick

  Copyright © 2017 K Webster

  Cover Design: All By Design

  Photo: Adobe Stock

  Editor: All About the Edits

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  K Webster’s Taboo World

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  K Webster’s Taboo World

  K Webster’s Taboo World Reading List

  Books by K Webster

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  I’m used to being in charge.

  In the courtroom. In life. In the bedroom.

  But then I met him.

  He brings me literally to my knees.

  Handsome. Charismatic. Sexy as hell.

  He’s everything I desperately crave to possess.

  I’m burning to get him beneath me just to have a taste.

  Turns out, though, one taste isn’t enough.

  And he’s starved for me too.

  Two alphas fighting for dominance.

  He thrives on control and I can’t give it up.

  A battle of wills.

  The bedroom is the battlefield and our hearts are on the line.

  To my husband…

  Thank you for being my partner in life, in parenthood, and in love.

  “If Harry Potter taught us anything it’s that no one should live in a closet.”

  —J.K. Rowling

  K Webster’s Taboo World

  Welcome to my taboo world! These stories began as an effort to satisfy the taboo cravings in my reader group. The two stories in the duet, Bad Bad Bad, were written off the cuff and on the fly for my group. Since everyone seemed to love the stories so much, I expanded the characters and the world. I’ve been adding new stories ever since. Each book stands alone from the others and doesn’t need to be read in any particular order. I hope you enjoy the naughty characters in this town! These are quick reads sure to satisfy your craving for instalove, smokin’ hot sex, and happily ever afters!

  Bad Bad Bad

  Coach Long

  Ex-Rated Attraction

  Mr. Blakely

  Malfeasance

  Easton

  Crybaby

  Lawn Boys

  Renner’s Rules

  The Glue

  Dane

  Several more titles to be released soon!

  Thanks for reading!

  K

  A Note to the Reader…

  Dane started as a short story called Naughty St. Nick in the What Happens During the Holidays anthology last Christmas. The story was meant to be short and sweet to fit the parameters of the project. However, my dear characters demanded a LOT more of their story, not just the tiny nibble they were originally given. Nearly a year later, I sat down and finally gave them what they wanted. My characters are spoiled and who am I to deny them a thing?

  I hope you enjoy reading the rest of their story.

  Love Always,

  K Webster

  Missy DeMarco winks at me from the other end of the bar, and all I can manage is a slight nod of my head. I’m fucking stupid, really. The girl likes to suck dick and has even mentioned she’s down for anal. And yet…my head’s just not there. You’d think my forty-seven-year-old almost-divorced ass would be into nailing twenty-something blondes with big shiny lips. Instead, I find myself dragging my gaze back to my tumbler filled with amber liquid. I drain my glass and count down the minutes until I can leave this lame-ass party.

  Except leaving the firm’s Christmas party when you’re the managing partner would be highly frowned upon. Not to mention, I’m sure that little tidbit of information would get back to Janice. Shame on me for thinking that after twenty-six years of marriage, she’d show a little kindness my way. Not Janice. She’s been a super cunt ever since I said, “I do.” When she filed for divorce a few months ago, I knew my life was over. The over-botoxed snob has been trying to bankrupt me ever since.

  Thank fuck I’m an attorney. If I were just some run-of-the-mill stupid sap, Janice would have already screwed me so hard I wouldn’t be able to sit for years. But I know her bitch ways and I’ve been able to preempt every one of her attempts to ruin me.

  “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” a deep voice booms. “And put it on his tab.”

  I snort and swivel around to see which asshole is trying to sour my mood even more. When I get a good look at a young guy dressed as Santa, I crack a smile, despite myself. The guy, who can’t be any older than twenty, is tall and broad-shouldered. It’s the smirk on his face that has me shaking my head in a humorous manner.

  “The bad girls are that way, Santa,” I say with a grunt, and nod toward where Missy and some of the other paralegals from the office are babbling about God only knows what to my colleagues, who only seem interested in their tits.

  Santa chuckles as he sits down on the stool beside me. The bartender hands us our drinks before heading over to someone waving him down. My gaze is pulled back in Santa’s direction when he tugs off his cap to run his fingers through his messy light brown hair, that’s wild and overgrown. He sets the hat on the bar top and regards me with an impish grin.

  “Thanks for the drink, buddy,” he says and holds his glass out to me.

  The man’s brown eyes are sharp and intelligent despite his fucking stupid Christmas outfit. I don’t even know him and I know everyone who works at our firm. He must have come with someone as a guest, or perhaps he’s someone staying at this hotel who’s decided to crash the party.

  “Dane,” I grunt and clink my glass to his.

  “Nick,” he replies and leans on his elbow to watch Missy and the gang. I can hear her giggles all the way over here and can’t help but cringe.

  “Like St. Nick?” I question with a lifted brow. “Clever.”

  His attention darts back to mine and he shrugs. “Something like that.” When he starts working at the buttons on the front of his red suit, I find myself fixated on his strong fingers. He pulls off the jacket and tosses it on the bar. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

  I admire his physique. His white T-shirt is molded to his sculpted chest. I’ve always tried to maintain my body. Hell, it was one of the things Janice would always bitch about. “You work out too much,” as if staying fit was a bad thing. I pinch the bridge of my nose and attempt to block out thoughts of her. Even on the verge of finalizing our divorce, she’s still controlling my every thought and acti
on.

  “We’ll have another,” Nick hollers to the bartender. “This one’s on me. My friend here is having a bad day.” He reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder. Awareness prickles through me.

  Don’t go there, Dane.

  Last time I let those feelings get ahold of me, I almost lost my best friend.

  “Want to talk about it?” he questions, dragging me from my self-loathing.

  I scrub at my scruffy face with one hand and shake my head. “Not really. Why are you over here talking to me anyway?” I turn to see one of Missy’s friends making eyes at Nick. “Cassia would love for you to talk to her.”

  When I look back at him, his lips twitch in amusement, and I find myself staring at them for longer than necessary. Goddammit, Dane. Get your head out of your ass.

  “Cassia already tried to talk to me,” he says with a groan. “And by talking, I mean, she stuck her hand down the front of my pants and gripped my cock. Told me she’d been a bad little girl.”

  My cock twitches at the mental image. The bartender drops off a couple more drinks and these, too, get sucked down.

  “You didn’t want to hit that?” I question, my body starting to feel loose with the alcohol running through my veins.

  He laughs, and the sound is rich and deep. “No. God, I have standards, man.”

  I smile back at him. This guy reminds me of my younger self. Back when I was free. When I was a risk-taker, and did what I wanted without worry of how it affected my life. I was carefree and I loved it.

  Fast forward twenty-six years, and I couldn’t be more opposite. Everything I do has ripple effects. I don’t have the pleasure of doing things for fun and without care of repercussions anymore.

  “Wife?”

  I cringe at the word. When I see him staring at the pale circle on my finger, I let out a sigh. I wonder how long it will be until it fades. “Soon-to-be ex.”

  “Was she a bitch?”

  I groan. “You have no idea.”

  He reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder again. “So, we’re celebrating?”

  I don’t tell him that I’m not celebrating at all. I don’t tell him I’m here because I have to be. I do tell him, “I guess we are.”

  His teeth are pearly white as he flashes me another conspiratorial grin. He does this thing my best friend Max Rowe does, where he bites on the inside corner of his bottom lip, as if he’s trying to hold back something he desperately wants to say. It endears me to this man because the same mannerism endeared me to my best friend all those years ago.

  “Out with it, Nick,” I grumble.

  He throws his head back and a warm laugh rumbles from him. The sound is nice, and I find myself wishing I were a funnier fuck so I could keep the laughs coming from him. My gaze falls to his Adam’s apple and, for a brief moment, I wonder what he tastes like there.

  Fuck, the booze is getting to me.

  Thoughts of Max from the past coupled with images of Nick from the present have my cock all sorts of confused. I dart my gaze over to Missy, who’s climbing into my newest partner, Chandler Stratton’s, lap. I failed to mention Missy is the office skank. Apparently, Chandler is too because I know he has a wife who conveniently doesn’t happen to be here tonight.

  When I turn around, Nick’s features darken. He drains his glass and clanks it to the bar surface. His body leans into mine and the heat from it stirs my cock once again.

  “Want to get high?”

  I nearly choke on my response. “W-What?”

  “The good shit. Upstairs in my room. You coming, or are we going to sit around and watch these losers hang all over each other all night?” He pulls away to smirk at me. “Don’t tell me you don’t smoke pot.”

  Back in college, that’s all I did. Max was a little more straight-laced than I was, but I was always toking it up between classes. It’s a miracle I got my shit together and graduated with good grades.

  But I haven’t smoked since I married Janice. This is stupid.

  “I don’t know, man,” I mutter.

  “How about you think about it?” His lips quirk up on one side. “Room eleven forty-three. When, not if, you get tired of these assholes, I’ll be upstairs.” He snags his Santa stuff and drops a couple of twenties on the bar. “See you in ten.”

  He saunters away from the bar, and I can’t help but stare after him. The T-shirt he’s wearing is tight on his body and shows off a muscular back. My traitorous cock twitches again. It’s as if it’s coming to life after twenty-six years of slumber.

  Minutes tick by, and all I can think about is Nick and his easygoing persona. God, what I wouldn’t give to get even a quarter of the man I once was back. To be able to fucking crash an office party in a Santa costume and then buddy up to the head guy in charge, only to invite him to smoke pot. Ballsy, this guy. And, at one time, I had balls too. That was before Janice cut them right off my body and stuffed them in her eight-hundred-dollar designer purse. If it hadn’t been for Melanie, our daughter, I’d have left her ages ago.

  I sneak a glance back at Missy, who’s making out with Chandler. This shit will be all over the office on Monday. Better him than me, though. The last thing I need is for Janice getting ahold of that little piece of ammo. Chandler’s wife is his problem.

  Without thinking too long on it, I make a decision. Tonight, I’ll be Dane from college. I’ll stop worrying the fuck over everything in my life and go get my ass high with Santa Claus. I slap some cash down on the bar and slip away from my employees, who are all behaving rather badly. I don’t need to see Ronald from payroll sucking face with my secretary, Elaine. And I don’t even want to know what her fiancé will think when somebody inevitably records that shit on video and sends it to him.

  Christmas office parties suck.

  I stride out of the bar and head toward the bank of elevators. The night is fairly young. I could go to my room on the fifteenth floor, buy some overpriced porn, and jack off so I can go to sleep. Or…

  The elevators open, and I step in. My finger hovers over the number fifteen before dropping to punch in the eleven. The split-second decision has several bricks of stress falling off my back. A night alone with my fist isn’t going to ease the tension like getting stoned with Santa will.

  I’m smirking all the way to his door. When I raise my hand to knock, I hesitate and drop it. This is probably stupid. I don’t even know this guy. What if he—

  The door swings open and Nick laughs. “Dude, don’t stand outside the door like a fuckin’ stalker. Come in.”

  I snort and shake my head. “Where’s the suit?” I’m trying to keep my features impassive, but he’s traded his Santa shit for a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. Nick is no longer wearing a shirt, and his tanned chest muscles are on full display. His messy hair hangs in front of his sharp eyes as a knowing smile teases his lips. Goddamn, I need to stop looking at those lips.

  “I was getting hot,” he says as he saunters over to the bed and stretches out. His stomach muscles are tight and defined. He probably spends about as much time in the gym as I do, but I sure as hell don’t have his oblique muscles. Lucky young bastard. I want to ask him about his workout regime but then decide that probably sounds gay.

  And I’m definitely not gay.

  He clears his throat, and I realize I’ve been staring at his stomach for the past minute like a fucking creeper. This should be my cue to leave, to save myself any further embarrassment.

  “Man, lighten up,” he says with a grin. “Take your jacket off and stay awhile. But no ties allowed. Ties are for uptight assholes, and we’re about to get stoned as fuck.”

  I chuckle and am thankful he blows off my odd behavior. With my back to him, I shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the back of the desk chair. Then, as requested, I remove the tie and toss it over as well. After unbuttoning the top couple of buttons, I roll up the sleeves on my dress shirt. When I turn back to him, he’s watching me with a guarded expression.

  “The fri
dge is filled with every poison you can think of,” he tells me as he grabs a tray from his end table. He starts stuffing weed into a small metal pipe. “I’ll take some Cuervo.”

  I give him a slight nod before fetching some mini bottles from the fridge. I set them down on his table just as he takes a hit. He grabs my wrist below my expensive watch and squeezes. Then, he reaches up and hands me the pipe.

  “Tell me that’s not the best shit ever,” he says with a grin as he looks up at me. With his hand on my wrist and a smile that probably gets him whatever the fuck he wants, I can’t help but admit my attraction to him. My body is practically buzzing with barely controlled desire. I thought I worked through this shit decades ago. All it takes is one good-looking guy to touch me and smile, and I’m ready to explore again.

  Except, the last time I did a little exploring, my best friend gave me a punch to the face, and I almost ended our friendship.

  “Smoke the weed, Dane,” he growls, jerking me from my inner hatred. “Your mind works all the time, huh? Never shuts off? You’ve got to take some moments to just breathe, man. Wear the fucking Santa suit. Smoke the weed. Go after the guy with the five o’clock shadow and perpetual scowl who’s better off without his bitch wife.”

  I take the pipe and frown at him.

  He shrugs and pulls his hand away. “I’m enjoying a little last hurrah myself actually, before I join the frowning bastards club.”

  Something about his words irritates me. I had that same attitude so long ago. Like the fun was over once college ended and it was time to do right by my parents. Career. Wife. Kids. And I did. I followed the fucking rules. For what?

  I inhale the smoke and let it fill my lungs. It’s been ages since the last time I got high, but God, how I missed it. I close my eyes and let the weed do its job. When I reopen them, Nick is smirking at me.

  “You should sit your big ass down, old man, before you pass the fuck out.”