by Ryan Michele
Bangin’
Knuckles Sexy Bites
Ryan Michele
Bangin’ (Knuckles Sexy Bites) by Ryan Michele
Copyright © Ryan Michele 2016
1st edition published December 8, 2016 Wild in the Windy City Anthology – titled Game Changer
2nd edition published November 16, 2017 titled—Bangin’ (Knuckles Sexy Bites)
2nd Edition Editing by Silla Webb
1st Edition Editing by C&D Editing
Cover Design: Wicked Women Designs
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Ryan Michele, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content as it is fiction.
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This book contains mature content not suitable for readers under the age of 18. This book contains content with strong language, violence, and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are over the age of 18.
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
1. Jess
2. Sanders
3. Jess
About the Author
Other Books by Ryan Michele
Blurb
My brother's best friend.
No scratch that, my brother's sexy as sin best friend.
Sanders Becker is my every fantasy. Tonight's my night to have the courage to push the boundaries between us.
When he's at my bar, Knuckles, the opportunity is there, I just need the courage to go after my every fantasy.
Sanders can have any woman he wants.
Tonight's the night I want to be the one he's bangin'.
**Bangin’ is a short, sexy bite in time of Sanders and Jess’ lives. It’ll leave you breathless and hot, so watch out! Guaranteed to make you swoon.**
Don’t miss a release!
Join my Reader Group: Ryan’s Sultry Sinners
Sign Up for my Newsletter: HERE
Prologue
Why is it that, when a woman makes a move, it’s viewed as a bad thing? What is up with the double standard? Why is a woman considered a whore, yet a man is considered sexy when he goes after what he wants? Why should I have to wait for a man to take it? Why do I always have to wait until a guy has the balls to show me what he’s made of?
I don’t. Not anymore.
I’m tired of waiting. I have done it for twenty-six years when it comes to one man. Now, time is up. The clock has wound down to the end, and he doesn’t even know it.
I don’t want to just sleep with him. No, I want him to see me. The real me. The me who has been right in front of his damn face for the past twenty-six years. The woman I have grown up to be, not some bratty kid who happens to be his best friend’s sister. Not that he’s ever treated me like a brat, but he has always kept his distance from me; has never let me in.
Sure, he was there to help when my prom date turned into an asshole, and he was there when my car broke down on the side of the road. But all those things were in a brotherly love kind of way. Since I already have a brother, Jax, Sanders’ best friend, I don’t need another.
I have never held Sanders in that category, but he has regarded me as a sister. In fact, he has locked me up tightly in that box, and it’s painful.
“What’s wrong?” Sanders asks, coming up the driveway, and embarrassment floods my cheeks. He is so not the person I want to see in this moment. Please, someone strike me with lightning and put me out of my misery.
Nope, not even a cloud in the sky. Dammit.
“Oh, ya know. Just waiting for a date who decided to stand me up. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Only then did Sanders take a very good look at me seeing my royal blue dress that hugs me at the top and flairs out at the waist. Even hunched over he can see the fabric flowing.
“Prom,” he whispers out so softly.
“Yep. No big deal. Who wants to go to that shit any way.” I lie deeply, feeling hurt that Brad stood me up; who the hell does something like that. When I called him, he actually laughed at me and I could hear others doing the same.
“Brad didn’t come?”
I chuckle, unamusingly letting that conversation replay in my mind, clasping my hands in front of me.
“It was all a joke, him asking me. Asshole.”
Sanders stands in front of me, and all I can see is his tennis shoes because no way do I want to look up. This is what hell is, right here. “Give me five,” he says mysteriously, dashing into the house, where I know my brother isn’t because he should be on his way home from work now.
Shortly after the door closed, it opens back up and Sanders stands in my brother’s dark suit, white shirt opened at the collar, and black shoes. “What are you doing?” I ask, astonished at the beauty that is before me. There should be laws that guys can’t be this handsome.
“We’re going to your prom.”
My breath catches in my throat, and it takes him reaching down and grabbing my hand for me to rise and follow him to his car.
The night is beautiful. Sanders helps me forget all about Brad even though I felt his glares on me, but didn’t care. I’m with the guy I’ve crushed on for years, and as he holds me in his arms swaying back and forth to the music, bliss fills me inside.
Of course, the night didn’t end as I wanted it to. When Sanders drove me home after the dance, we stood at the front step staring at each other, his warm eyes calling me. I knew mine were begging for him to kiss me, just once so I’d remember it forever. When he blinked, shook his head, and said, ‘Had fun, little sis,’ everything inside me crumbled to the ground around my feet. Those four little words sealed our fate.
To this day, I don’t get the sultry looks from those icy blue eyes he gives other women around town. I get the caring ones, the ones that are reserved for a family member, a sister.
I’m done with being invisible. Sanders Becker is mine. If he doesn’t see that shit, I’m going to force him to.
One
Jess
What was I thinking?
All that bravado of telling myself that I could go after Sanders, yet here I stand, watching him from afar like some psycho stalker. Where the hell is all the courage I had when I told myself I was going for it, no more waiting? It must have gotten lost in the mix.
Knuckles is packed, which isn’t surprising since it’s a Friday night. I recently bought the joint from Chip, who owned the place for years. I know this place inside and out, having worked here since I was old enough to be legal. The waitressing tips helped pay for much of my schooling. Then, after graduating four years ago from the University of Illinois Chicago with a degree in business management and accounting, I did Chip’s bookkeeping. With all the experience with Knuckles, it was only logical that I would take over when Chip decided to retire, which was just a few months ago.
Being the owner instead of an employee has been strange, and it has taken a bit of adjustment, but I always make my presence known on Fridays and Saturdays. I may not be slinging drinks, but I
step in when I need to. It’s also great to keep the skillset up; you never know when someone calls in sick.
Right now, though, I’m watching the object of my obsession from across the room as he stands against the side of the bar, resting his hip against it with a bottle of beer wedged between his index and his middle finger. So damn sexy without even trying. He only needs to breathe to attract everyone in the bar, and I’m not just talking about women. Men too. Sanders just exudes this power, like he could take on anything and everything with a snap of his fingers.
The expanse of his chest pulls the black V-neck T-shirt he has on within its last stitch, as it molds to every groove and swell of his body. And believe me, he has a lot of those grooves and swells to accommodate. I’ve watched them grow over the years, enticing not only me, but everyone else in this town. I’d be a very rich woman if I took a dollar every time a woman talked about Sanders.
His tight ass is hugged in the most worn pair of Levi’s I bet he owns, and damn, they look good on him, like they were custom-made to lure in every woman in a ten-mile radius. They do a damn good job too, judging from the three women hanging on his every word, smiling and laughing at everything he says.
His hair. Damn his hair. It’s long, midnight black, and I swear it has a bluish hue to it in different lights. I’m talking, down to his shoulder blades long, and right now, he has it pulled up tight in what I like to refer as his sexy-as-hell man bun. I never thought I would be attracted to a man whose hair is almost as long as my own, but as Sanders grew it out, I changed my opinion quick.
He raises his beer to his lips and, from the side, I can see them mold around the opening of the bottle. My stomach churns, wondering what that light spattering of a beard he has would feel like on my neck, down my chest … between my legs. How his tongue would lick me, just as I’m sure it’s touching the glass.
As his tattooed arm flexes as he lifts the bottle, I thank God the music in here is loud; otherwise, my groan would’ve been way too awkward. I don’t even have to wonder if I’m wet. Nope. Whenever I even think of the man, I’m done for.
For the past twenty-six years of my life, Sanders Becker has been my fantasy. He’s been the star in every one of my dreams. He’s even played a major role in my vibrator helping me out with this ache. He’s helped me get through some very, let’s say, delicate situations when a guy I was with couldn’t exactly live up to what I needed him to be. In those cases, thoughts of Sanders were what tipped me over the edge, not that I have told anyone that. Not even my best friend Mal. Nope, that one I keep locked up.
The way he stands at the end of the bar, commanding the space around him, one would think he was a celebrity or something. And in a way, he is. He’s not the most straight-laced man around. Sure, he’s run his family’s electrical company ever since his father passed away, but that’s not it. It’s the ladies.
I won’t lie to myself and say I will be the one to tame Sanders Becker, because I know I won’t. I honestly believe there isn’t a woman on the planet who could tame the Harley riding, get any woman he wants, bad boy. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want to tame him. Okay, I would like to tame the get-any-woman part, but I’m not going to fool myself into believing that I would change him. I just want a piece of him; have wanted it since I knew what liking boys meant. However, he’s always kept me at a distance.
Abby, one of the women vying for his attention, rubs her hand up and down his strong arm, the one without the tattoos. He doesn’t flinch or move, no doubt used to all the touches. Me, I want to rip her hand away and shove it up her ass.
Abby is beautiful. She’s three years younger than I am and was the homecoming queen runner-up. With our town being close-knit, I know everything. With the big city around us, this small niche of people knows it all. It’s just how it is. Some things you’re just stuck knowing even if you don’t want to.
“Jess?”
I turn my head toward Layla, my head waitress, prying my eyes from Sanders and not caring in the least that she caught me staring.
“Yeah, hon? What’s up?”
Her eyes float to a table across the room where Darren, a regular, and some of his guy friends sit laughing and pointing at some of my girls, no doubt drunk off their asses.
“Those guys won’t stop touching. I’ve told them twice. Both Beth and Alissa have come up complaining about them. I think they need to be cut off.”
When I’m not here, Layla handles problems, but when I am, she likes to divvy out the not so fun tasks to me. I can’t blame her. When I waited tables, I hated this part of the job too. Still do.
“I’m on it. Tell the girls to stay away from the table and I’ll deal with it.”
Layla sighs in relief. She’s such a cute little thing. Whenever I see her, I think of Tinkerbell. Only my Tink wears tight boy shorts that cut up the cheek of her ass and a bright yellow V-neck T-shirt that reads Knuckles across her bust. I’m not changing a good thing. That uniform allowed me to pay for college and put a decent chunk down on this place. It’s doing the same for my girls, and they haven’t complained.
I peer over at Sanders who is laughing it up with Abby and a few of her friends that have come along. First, I’ll deal with Darren, then him.
Steering myself in Darren’s direction, I push through the crush of people all drinking, dancing, and having a hell of a time. That’s one thing I love about this place, the good vibes and happy moods.
Darren is about five years older than me, so the only school we went to together was grade school. He’s attractive in the boy next-door kind of way. His sandy brown hair is cut so it doesn’t move in any way when he turns his head, but he has the nicest green eyes in town. Women normally flock to him, so why he’s getting touchy with my girls when he knows the rules is beyond me.
Five guys sit at the circular table, but I move behind Darren. The other guys are no strangers to me either. Each of them are from Darren’s graduating class.
“Darren, am I going to have to throw you out for touching my girls?” I ask in my seductive, get-what-I-want voice. I love that voice. Too bad I’ve never had the balls to use it with Sanders. But that changes tonight …
Shit. Focus.
“Oh, honey, I was just having some fun,” Darren coos, his eyes bloodshot, but more in the he-hasn’t-slept-well-in-a-long-time way, and not the drunk way, look up at me.
“You know the rules. You touch again, you’re out. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, or I’d put you out right now.” I plaster a smile on my face, but my eyes are dead serious. My two bouncers are Blake and Jimmy. With one snap of my fingers, the table will be cleared. Not to mention, if it gets too bad, I have my Ruger in the back. I bought it when I turned twenty-one. It’s pink, but the gun kicks ass. One of my favorite things to do is go to the range and shoot it.
“All right, sweetheart. My boys and I will be good,” he promises with a wink.
“I’m serious. Oh, and I’m cutting you off after that pitcher.” I point to the beer on the center of the table. “That way, I know you’ll behave.”
“Come on…” Darren groans, just like a damn adult child. I hope he doesn’t do that with the ladies. It’s a total turn off.
“I mean it.” I look up at Beth, shaking my head no, in which she nods in understanding. “Any trouble, you’re out.”
“Well, hell, woman,” Darren gripes.
“Hell nothing. You follow the rules or your out.”
His eyes flair. “We’re just having some fun.”
When people are drunk, they become lawyers defending themselves with everything they have inside of them. There is no need for him to do so, yet he feels the need.
Bending down, I look into his eyes with every bit of seriousness I can muster so he gets the point. “I get it. We all want to have fun, but once you’re assaulting my waitresses, that’s when I pull the plug.”
He pushes back in his chair putting a bit of space between us. “We didn’t assault anyone.”
Pl
acing my hand on my hip, I challenge, “Look, either keep your hands to yourself, or hit the door. I’m not doing this childish bullshit. Choose.”
He rolls his eyes, but takes the out I’m giving him. “Hands off. Got it.” He pushes back up to the table.
“Bye, boys.” I don’t dare call them men. When they act like spoiled little children, they get called what they deserve.
I move to the bar where Ryder, my head bartender, is pouring drinks. Ryder is a hunk of a man. He was the quarterback of our football team and owns his own Internet marketing company. He works for me on the weekends for fun he says, and the ladies love him. I always tell him that he should get out there more and stop hiding behind the computer. With his dazzling blue eyes and killer smile, he could have anyone he wants. Regardless, I have yet to see him with anyone since high school. I don’t pry, though. I’m the boss and need to keep the line.
“What’s up, boss?” Ryder asks.
“Keep your eye on Darren. He’s had a bit too much, and they’re all cut off.” I turn, looking back at the group who is now cutting it up and laughing. “They shouldn’t be a problem, but …” I trail off, shrugging my shoulder. Who knows these days?
Looking across the bar, my eyes lock on Sanders, and my insides go weak. Why I let this man have this much power over me, I will never know. I need to shake that shit out.
I give him a friendly smirk and wave at him just a bit. Sanders shakes his head at me with a grin, no doubt thinking I’m the biggest dork to ever walk the planet.
My brother will be here soon, though, and if I’m really going to do this, I need to suck this shit up. I’m a strong-ass woman. I survived the death of my parents at age eighteen, relationships that blew up in my face, college, and owning a bar. I got this.