by Sam Crescent
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-1-77130-928-8
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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DEDICATION
With all my books I have to thank my family, Evernight, my editor Karyn, and also all my readers. Without all of you I wouldn't be able to tell the stories going through my head all the time. As always, this book is for you.
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NOMAD
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Cole Fowler climbed off his bike and stared up at the large bar a couple of feet ahead of him. The grounds were filled with college students and men, along with women of varying age who didn’t attend college. At thirty years old, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with pissy school kids. That’s what they were, pissy and school kids. Looking back at his bike, Cole knew he didn’t have a choice. The machine he loved so much was in need of some repair, and he needed to eat. Stealing from stores for food was not something he was into. He didn’t mind hard work, but he wasn’t the kind of man to settle down in one place.
He was a nomad, moving from place to place never settling down. For the next month or two he’d need to stay here in the city to make some money to repair his bike and earn enough to eat. First, he was going to have a nice long drink before finding out the name of the manager at the bar. Once he scored a job he was getting himself some pussy for the night. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d taken any snatch, and he was in desperate need of relief. Joining a club would probably be easier. During the last ten years since he’d decided to quit conforming to what society wanted of him and make up his own code, he’d been offered a patch in The Skulls and Chaos Bleeds. Both clubs were great, but he didn’t want to be part of a brotherhood. This was about him and being alone. He liked not having to make choices or watch others’ backs. Cole was that selfish. He didn’t use to be, but life was easier not to have any connections.
On the way into the bar he noticed many of the women staring at him. He was used to that as well.
As he opened the door, smoke, music, and noise filled every one of his senses. The college kids were chugging down rounds of cheap beer while the adults were drinking spirits or wine. Cole liked the bar on sight, especially the pool table in the corner surrounded by boys in the same style jacket. Jocks. Rolling his eyes, he went straight for the bar and took the only available seat. Within two minutes a blonde was sitting next to him, asking his name.
“Piss off, sugar. I’m not here for company.”
He wasn’t interested in blondes. Brunettes had always been his thing. Staring behind the bar he saw two men and one woman serving up. The two men were the same age as he was while the woman looked younger. She was laughing and smiling at some of the other college kids.
“Come on, Sandy, have some fun with us.”
The brunette with a tightly held ponytail shook her head. “Sorry, you’ve got no chance. You’re drunk, and I have three classes with your girlfriend, Tony. Go and bug someone else.” She waved him off, giving him change and moving off to the next guy.
Watching her, he noticed that she wiped her hands after touching each customer’s hand. He didn’t know whether to feel insulted for his fellow customers or be happy she was concerned over her health. Maybe she was a little OCD, which was why she went to extreme cleaning methods. Wiping hands constantly on a towel in a bar always felt a little extreme to him.
“What can I get you, sir?” Sandy asked, staring at him.
“Whiskey, no ice and make it your good stuff.” Her eyes were a mesmeric shade of green. Cole didn’t want to look away from her.
“Here you go.” She told him the amount, and she took the money from him.
Sandy typed in the amount on the cash register, took the correct change out after putting his note inside. She came back, handed him the change, then wiped her hands on the cloth. On closer inspection the cloth looked partially damp.
“Who’s your manager, doll?”
“Rick, behind me with the red hair. He owns this place with his brother, Trey, but Rick’s the man you want to see for anything.” She moved onto the next customer not giving him more attention than the others. For the next hour he observed her, taking in more about her person than anyone else. He saw the fuller curves that a lot of women hated in this day and age. Her tits were large with her cleavage on display. The black top she wore molded to her curves like a second skin. The jeans showed off her shapely ass, and on her feet she wore a pair of white sneakers. She was casual and ready for anything. None of the men got past her with mild flirtation, and she wouldn’t let any man touch her for any length of time.
The man she’d pointed out topped up Cole’s whiskey without saying a word.
Once he was gone, he took to watching her. He liked how Trey and Rick both took care of her. Any of the scarier looking men they took care of. They wouldn’t leave her alone to man the bar.
When she came back to him, she offered him a smile. “Do you want to talk to Rick about somethin’?” she asked.
“Yeah, how is this place for work?” He took a sip of his drink watching as she served another young man.
“It’s cool. It’s busy every night, but like most places we get a lot of turnover at the weekend. If there’s a band on then it’s even more packed.” She smiled at the other man, taking his money then wiping her hands after the transaction. “Most of the guys and girls are okay here. There’s one or two fights, but that’s over other stuff.”
She placed a hand on her hip as she looked at him.
“You go to school here?” Cole asked.
“College, and yes.”
“What’s your major?”
“Undecided. I’ve got another year yet before I have to settle on a specialty.” She served up another couple of guys, giving them the smile and a laugh to match. “Are you from around here?”
“No. I go around everywhere.” He took another sip of whiskey loving the burn as the dark liquid slid down his throat.
“A drifter?”
“To a point. Some men call me Nomad, but the real name is Cole,” he said, offering her his hand.
She looked at his hand then at him before she took it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cole. I’m Sandy Winters.”
Bingo, he got her name. One of the best tricks in pulling women was finding out their name. Some women were insulted if a guy didn’t remember their name but knew how tight their pussy could get when you fucked it hard. He’d like to get inside Sandy’s pussy. There was something sensual, something that called to him and to all the men who were trying to find any excuse to touch her. Cole was no different. There was an allure about her.
“Well, Sandy, I look forward to getting to know you.”
“How? If you’re a drifter you won’t get the time.” She put her hand straight to her hip without wiping it on the cloth. Interesting.
“I’ve still got to eat. I need a job to get some funds.” His bike needed repair, and his cock needed some service.
“Talk to Rick. He’s the man who’ll set you up.” She moved away to finish serving some of the other men. Minutes later Rick came toward him.
“S
andy told me you’re looking for a job. What can you do?” Rick asked.
“Just about anything.”
The noise in the bar was getting louder.
“Come on. Let’s go somewhere more private.”
Cole followed Rick to the back room where a desk with a computer lay. There were files and telephone numbers all around. He liked the fact Rick didn’t apologize for the mess.
“I can do just about anything. Stocking, filling, selling, drinking, cleaning. I need a job for a couple of weeks, maybe a month or so to fix up my bike. I’ve worked in bars before, and I know I can do the work.”
“Do you have any references?” Rick asked.
“Actually, I do.” He’d learned the fatal mistake early in his nomad days of obtaining references. Selling his bike for money before he could get another had been one hard lesson he wouldn’t forget. No matter where he worked or for how long, he got references that were legal. There was always someone looking for help, whether it be in bars or working in a care home. He did the work, got paid, and moved on. Cole never created waves, and any fights that were started, he finished.
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the stack of papers folded neatly together. “I’ve got more stored elsewhere, but if you need them let me know.”
“For a drifter you certainly know your shit,” Rick said.
“It’s because I’m a drifter that I know my shit. If I don’t get references, I can’t work.”
Rick took a few minutes looking them over. Looking at one, he picked up the phone. Sitting back, Cole let his mind drift to the nice piece of ass outside waiting.
****
Ever since she’d watched a documentary on television, Sandy had started wiping her hands after serving customers. The amount of crap that could be on their hands scared her. She cringed every time she thought about it. Some people may think she was being a little controlling over who she touched. Sandy was under no illusions about what went on behind closed doors or up against a wall outside of the bar. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d seen couples in different stages of sex. It all bored her. Being a student at the local college didn’t mean she didn’t have any sense, and she knew the kind of crap going on. There was no way she was touching men’s hands when they didn’t wash their hands after taking a piss or masturbating before leaving the house. She did not relish the idea of semen and urine on her.
“If I didn’t know you any better I’d be convinced you had some kind of OCD,” Trey said, brushing past her.
“Well, you know I don’t, so stop stressing out.” She took a step back as there was a lull in customers. When she got home she had a paper to write for her English professor. The work at the college was okay, but she was uninspired. Nothing she did interested her. The boys in college were exactly that, boys. She had sat behind her fair share of men bragging about what a woman was doing to them in the bedroom. Most of the crap they were saying was lies.
“What was with that guy?”
“He was looking for a job.” She started to dry up the cups. Thinking about Cole brought heat straight to her core. There was something dangerous about him. Sandy liked men who posed a risk. Cole looked like the kind of man who would take what he wanted without waiting for permission, but in a good way. She wasn’t interested in being taken against her will.
Letting out a sigh, she glanced toward the door where Rick had taken him. The office was where Rick conducted most of his business even if it was a trash pit inside. She tried to clean it, but he was a little too protective of his space and she liked her job.
Minutes passed, she didn’t know how many, before he finally came out of the room with Rick. Her gaze was focused purely on the man. Cole was tall, and he possessed thick, coiled shoulders. Licking her lips, she imagined he was a hard man to please.
There was something in the way he carried himself, the self-assurance in his gait.
“I think you’re drooling,” Trey said.
Hitting him in the shoulder, she chuckled and went back to work. There had to be something about the man’s ink. She’d been around her fair share of college crap, but this man was different.
“Sandy, Trey, we’ve got a new recruit. The name’s Cole, and he’ll be helping us out around here for the next couple of weeks.”
She shook his hand aware of the tight grip in hers.
“Hey, Cole. I see you got the job.” She smiled at him, conscious of the flood of warmth in her panties.
Get over yourself.
This man could have any woman he wanted. She didn’t dare look around the bar to see who was waiting to pounce on him. Part of her wanted to growl at the women and lay claim to him herself.
Don’t do it, Sandy. He’s not yours to take.
Pulling her hand away, she did her best to ignore him as she went about serving customers. It was a Friday, so the bar wouldn’t be closing ‘til around two in the morning. She had the weekend to write her paper for the following Friday. The classes were not as taxing as she’d hoped they would be. Part of her had hoped to be inspired to find out what she wanted to do next. Instead, she was simply going through the motions of a student. At twenty years old she didn’t believe she should be so bored with life or what it entailed.
Moving around the bar she found herself becoming more aware of the new guy. He was older than she was. She would put him around thirty, but she could be wrong. Everyone always looked different at the same age.
“Do you like him?” Rick asked, when she went around the back to get more bottles of soda
She looked at her boss and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know him. You were looking to hire someone, and he fit the bill. You don’t trust these college kids, remember?”
“You’re a college kid.”
“So, I’m different.” Sandy patted his arm as she left the room.
When she’d first gone to them for a job, Rick had been the one who hadn’t wanted to hire her. College kids had too much of a bad reputation for stealing and causing problems. Fortunately for her, she didn’t mingle with many of the kids.
For the rest of the night she worked her ass of trying to ignore the new temptation at the bar. He could serve, gather, and clean like the best of them.
What she liked the most was how the boys from college gave him a wide berth. Sandy wondered how he’d fare in a fight.
Thinking about his body slicked with sweat was too arousing. Pushing all the dirty images to the back of her mind, she concentrated on her work.
By the time Rick closed the door she was exhausted. Having another body to help clean meant they got out of there earlier.
“You coming in tomorrow?” Rick asked, helping her finish up the glasses.
“Yeah. It’s a Saturday. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you hanging on one of the busiest nights.”
Once her work was finished, she grabbed her bag from the office and headed toward the back. Trey waited by the door ready to walk her home.
“What’s going on?” Cole asked, standing beside the other man.
“The lady in our midst has to be walked home. This is what I do every night she works for us.” Trey offered his arm, which she took laughing. The two men were so protective of her.
“I can do it,” Cole said.
“What?” she asked.
“I can take you home. It will be good bonding.”
Trey looked unsure.
Go with him. Have some fun.
“Sure.” She smiled at Cole. “I’ll give you a call when I get home. I don’t want you worrying in case he axe murders me.”
“You better keep her safe,” Trey said.
“Sure thing, boss.”
After she linked her arm through his, they made their way out toward the parking lot. The space in front of the bar was clear apart from one bike, which Cole was heading toward.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re going to take me home on the back of your bike?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Y
ou got a problem with a little speed?” He tossed the helmet to her.
She caught it, looking over the death trap. A thrill went through her body at the sight of the bike.
“I’ve not got a problem with a little speed. I got a problem with the man trying to get me there. Do you ride safe? I don’t have a death wish.”
Cole laughed. “Baby, I do everything by the book. I’ll get you to your place without harming a hair on your head.”
Looking down at the helmet then back at him, Sandy made her decision. “Okay.”
She put the helmet on then straddled the bike, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’ll trust you with me this once.” She whispered the words against his ear.
His body is not hard as rock.
Even through the leather jacket, his body was rock hard. Nothing could disguise the tightly coiled muscles. There was no way he worked out. A drifter wouldn’t have the time to visit the gym regularly.
She licked her lips thinking about how good his hard body would feel against hers. Was his cock big?
Stop thinking about that.
Sandy couldn’t close her legs, and the heat swamping her cunt was too much. Resting her head against his back, she blew out a breath in the hope of containing her rioting emotions. Nothing was happening. Her nipples grew hard as images of what could happen went through her mind.
Stop it.
The bike felt good between her thighs, as did the male driving it. He maneuvered the hard machine down the tight roads. She’d given him the address after she climbed on behind him. Cole certainly knew where he was going.
“Are you doing okay back there?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Within minutes he was pulling up outside of her building. She lived in an apartment about twenty minutes from one of the campuses. One of the things she refused to do was share her space with other people. She had a friend who occasionally stayed with her, but her apartment was her own. Climbing off the back, she tugged the helmet off, shaking out her hair.