Towing the Line

by Nicola Marsh

  I didn’t feel like getting drunk, stoned or laid. Not that I’d ever done any of those things before. That Geekette nickname Dave had bestowed on me last August when we both started our undergrad English major? Pathetically true.

  “Come to the party with me for a while, then go hang with your cousin later.”

  When I opened my mouth to protest again, Dave pressed his finger against my lips. “Not talking no for an answer, got it?”

  I didn’t mind Dave’s arm around my shoulder but having his finger against my mouth made me uncomfortable. We were friends. We hung out. Two loners who studied and grabbed the occasional meal. I wasn’t remotely attracted to the six foot, reed-thin Mr. Average and I’d never picked up any vibes off him.

  But there was something about the way he was looking at me, the way he was muscling in on my personal space, that had me edging away.

  “I might see you there,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder and accidentally on purpose bumping him out of the way in the process.

  For a second I thought I glimpsed anger in his pale grey eyes before he blinked and I attributed it to the sunlight filtering through the library windows.

  “Okay, catch you later.”

  I waited until Dave left, watching him lope between the tables and out the main library doors. I liked his easy-going nature, how he joked around without crossing the line. He’d never put the moves on me so the whole touchy-feely finger on the lips? Probably harmless and just me over-reacting to having a long, hot summer stretching ahead of me with not one freaking thing to do.

  I needed to get a life.

  Fast.

  Chapter Two

  JACK

  I was a man on a mission.

  I needed a bourbon in one hand and a blonde in the other, not necessarily in that order. And the annual Onakie B&S Ball happily provided both.

  I’d traveled a long, dusty three hundred miles to attend the black tie Bachelor and Spinster ball in outback Queensland, along with ten thousand other revelers currently jammed into the arena.

  Festivities—translated: consuming as much alcohol as humanly possible—had kicked off in the afternoon, gates to the ball opened at seven, which meant there were a lot of B&S’s paired off already. Nothing like beer goggles for making a member of the opposite sex appear overly attractive.

  I hadn’t run into anyone I knew, which suited me just fine. No one from the Cooweer Homestead cattle station where I worked had made the long trek. Then again, considering I was the only twenty-year-old on the property, with the next youngest employee being forty-five, it didn’t surprise me. Besides, I preferred it this way. A few hours out of my mundane life to cut free. Go wild. Get pissed. Shag some willing and able chick.

  It may not be much, but after spending the last four months working my arse off at the cattle station as a cook, I needed to burn off a little steam.

  “Hey handsome. Gotta light?” A thirty-something blonde with sun-wrinkles ringing her big blue eyes touched my forearm, waving a cigarette in her other hand at me.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. Don’t smoke.”

  “Too bad.” She flung the cigarette away and stepped in closer. “Fancy a drink instead?”

  “Got one, thanks.” I raised my bourbon. “But don’t let me stop you.”

  Not deterred by my offhand responses, she threaded her fingers through mine. “Let’s go dance.” She paused and sent me a loaded glance from beneath her lash extensions. “Down by the river.”

  Code for ‘my Ute is parked at the farthest corner of the compound so we can fuck our brains out and no one will hear.’

  This is exactly what I’d wanted. A no-strings-attached quickie to alleviate the boredom. So why did the thought of having meaningless sex with a stranger suddenly sound so unappealing?

  She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear. “I give great head.”

  I wasn’t too keen, but my cock wasn’t so discerning. It stood to attention, straining to get at the brazen blonde.

  Sensing my indecision, she tugged on my hand. “Come on.”

  Like any weak-minded guy who allowed the wrong head to dictate his actions, I fell into step beside her. We dodged a crammed dance floor where an international rock band blasted hard core. We pushed our way through wall-to-wall revelers drunk on booze and each other. We wound our way through Utes and 4WDs parked helter-skelter. We sidestepped couples writhing against each other in the dark.

  It was nothing I hadn’t seen before. In fact, in the four years since I’d run from the last foster home in Sydney and worked my away across the outback to far north Queensland, I’d attended several B&S balls like this. Lonely people from all walks of life hooking up for a night of raucous fun, endless drinking and faceless sex.

  I was over it.

  “Here we are.” She paused at the last Ute in a haphazard row. I couldn’t see its color in the dark but it had an impressive chrome bull bar that shimmered in the moonlight. “You up for it?”

  Before I could respond, she had her hand on my cock and her mouth on mine.

  I wanted sex. Looked like I was about to get it.

  Her tongue dueled with mine, demanding and taunting, as she unzipped me.

  I groaned when her hand wrapped around my cock and pulled me free. She squeezed and pulled, teasing me, before dropping to her knees.

  The moment her mouth closed around my cock, I closed my eyes, savoring the suction. Just the right amount. No teeth. A skillful gliding action of her mouth that milked me in wet velvet.

  She was right. She gave frigging great head.

  My balls tightened in anticipation but she was good at this, because she knew the right moment to stop sucking, fish a foil packet out of her bra and roll a condom on me in the time it took for my lust-hazed brain to clear.

  “Very nice.” She licked her lips with a slow, deliberate sweep of her tongue, before pushing me backward so I was lying flat on my back on the tray of her Ute. “Bet you feel as good as you taste.”

  She hoisted up her black satin gown and straddled me, giving me a nice eyeful of Brazilian, which she proceeded to play with. Her finger circled her clit as she sank down on me with a moan that raised the hairs on my arms.

  There was something incredibly sexy about an uninhibited older woman bouncing up and down on the end of my cock, so into it that I was nothing but an adjunct to her pleasure.

  It didn’t take long for either of us. She brought herself to orgasm as she slammed down on me at a frantic pace, impaling herself so hard I saw stars when I came. Though that could’ve literally been the stars clustered in the clear outback sky framed behind her.

  “How old are you?” she said as she clambered off and headed around the side of the Ute to the cabin, giving me time to take care of the condom and zip up.

  “Twenty.”

  She glanced up from the side mirror where she was busy reapplying a vivid red lip-gloss. “That’s great. I’ve always wanted to fuck a guy half my age.”

  She beamed like I’d just presented her with the best gift ever, while my gut twisted. Guess I was as good at judging women’s ages as I was at making decisions about where my life was headed. Absolutely shithouse.

  Was this really what I wanted? Working my arse off cooking for a bunch of non-appreciative pricks for months on end, then spending my down time screwing old chicks?

  My life was officially down the crapper.

  “Thanks,” she said, patting my cheek. “I’m heading back to the ball. See you round.”

  Not if I could help it and it wasn’t until she disappeared from view that I realized we hadn’t even exchanged names.

  Fuck.

  There had to be more to life than this.

  If you’d like to read more of Nicola’s books, they’re available from all e-book suppliers.

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  About
the Author

  USA TODAY bestselling author Nicola Marsh writes flirty fiction with flair for adults and riveting, spooky stories for teens.

  She has published 46 contemporary romances with Harlequin, Entangled Publishing and indie, and sold over 5 million copies worldwide. Her first mainstream romance BUSTED IN BOLLYWOOD was nominated for Romantic Book of the Year 2012. Her first indie romance, CRAZY LOVE, was a 2012 ARRA finalist.

  Her debut young adult novel, a supernatural thriller BANISH, released with Harlequin Teen August 2013, and her YA urban fantasy series kicked off with SCION OF THE SUN, November 2013, with Month9Books. This book is a National Readers’ Choice Award finalist 2014.

  Her debut new adult novel, BEFORE, released December 2013.

  She’s also a Waldenbooks, Bookscan and Barnes & Noble bestseller, a 2013 RBY (Romantic Book of the Year) and National Readers’ Choice Award winner, and a multi-finalist for a number of awards including the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, HOLT Medallion, Booksellers’ Best, Golden Quill, Laurel Wreath, More than Magic and has also won several CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Awards.

  A physiotherapist for thirteen years, she now adores writing full time, raising her two little heroes, sharing fine food with family and friends, and her favorite, curling up with a good book!

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