Rock Hard And Wet (BBW Paranormal Romance) (Nymphs Of New York)

by James, Jennifer

  Rock Hard And Wet

  Nymphs of New York, Book One

  By

  Jennifer James

  Copyright Warning

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published By: Unbuttoned Press

  Rock Hard And Wet

  © 2013 by Jennifer James

  Edited by Rachel Firasek

  Cover Art by Mina Carter

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Unbuttoned Press publication September 2013

  Dedication

  For the Rachels:

  Rachel Firasek, because you’re a truly amazing friend and editor, but not only that: You’re a survivor who inspires me to keep trying, even when I want to lie down and die. You put up with my silly nicknames for you and even encourage my rabid plot bunnies. Love you.

  Rachel Evans, because you delight me, understand the value of a good brainstorming session centered around zombies and Shakespeare, and never think I’m weird when I quote The Princess Bride or Dr. Who. Thank you for being my last reader. I’m sure X would love to have you as tribute.

  Rachie Hunt, because I adore the crap outta you. You’re scary smart, don’t take shit, and go out of your way to help your friends. I think you’re awesome, and Steve is a lucky mofo to get to hang out with you every day.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  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

  About The Author

  Other Works

  Chapter One

  Callie spun in a circle, her face tipped up to catch the rain on her eyelashes and in her open mouth. The drops tasted of chemicals and dirt, but she rolled the liquid on her tongue and caught the pure essence of sunlight, open water, and the deep bedrock the water had cycled through. A passing cab honked from a few feet away and yanked her from her reverie.

  New York City alternated between delighting her with its massive buildings, multi-colored, flashing billboards, the beauty of seeing so many different skin colors and languages blending together, and then disgusting her with how completely filthy the city could be.

  A huge sheet of dirty water splashed toward her, but she directed it away with the flick of a wrist. Being a nymph had some perks. Her affinity with water had matured from the time she’d been bound to a single fresh water spring in an ancient Grecian forest.

  She spun again, the cool rain drops plastering her thin shirt and cotton gypsy skirt to her flesh. The joy of freedom and the ability to wander in public wherever she wished heightened her inbred sense of fun and spontaneity. The entire reason she’d taken advantage of Poseidon’s decree momentarily disappeared from her mind.

  Petra stopped her mid-turn with one hand on her biceps. The rain stuttered to a stop, and Callie blew out her breath in a long raspberry.

  “Callie, you don’t have time for this. Six hours have already been wasted.” Darn her sister-nymph and her crazy, scientific notions about…well, everything.

  Callie rolled her eyes and thumbed a mustard smear from her sister’s chin. “Hey, the hot dogs were your idea, not mine.” She gripped the other woman’s hands and squeezed them. “Come on, Petra. Let your hair down. Just once, huh? We’re free. Mates or not, we’re in New York, and we look young and hot. If nothing else, we’re bound to get laid.”

  “With your nipples showing like that, shouldn’t take you long at all,” Petra muttered. She tunneled her fingers through her black hair, and even with the weak sunlight filtering in around the buildings and through the clouds, purple-blue highlights showed in the strands. “If all I wanted was to get laid, I could have stayed home.”

  “You’re right. C’mon, let’s see about rustling up some gorgeous humans for a trial—” The disdain on Petra’s face froze the rest of the comment on Callie’s tongue. Compassion speared its way into her heart, and she gave her sister a small, genuine smile. “Mates. We’re here to find mates and get the whole Cinderella thing going. Right.”

  A store front ahead of them had racks of colored scarves on display close to the sidewalk. Callie broke into a jog, towing her sister along behind her. She willed the water out of her hair and off her body. The hard nipples issue she dealt with easy enough by drying off, but the provocative jiggle of her large, full breasts was something else. No way she’d ever wear a bra—in the human world or not. Her breasts were big, but being a member of the Greek pantheon meant she didn’t age, and therefore, her assets weren’t losing a battle with gravity.

  “Hey, slow down. I’m eight inches shorter than you, remember?” Petra’s laughing voice and the tug on her hand slowed Callie’s stride enough so that the shorter woman could keep up.

  “Sorry, babe.” Callie tugged a purple and turquoise scarf off the rack and draped it around her waist gypsy style. “What do you think?”

  Petra perched a pair of sunglasses on her nose and peeked over the rims. “I think it’s fabulous, dah-ling.”

  She rooted in her shoulder bag and produced a twenty for the clerk at the register. One of the harem guards had snuck her a roll of cash as she and Petra left the castle to help fund their adventures. That guard was a great guy—cute too, with his blond hair, green eyes, and all those muscles. When she got back, the minute she managed to sneak off, he’d be on the receiving end of a well deserved blow-job.

  Petra’s determination and belief in being able to find a mate was sweet, but Callie had more realistic expectations. Three days to find your soul mate and have that man or woman be deemed worthy of Poseidon?

  Not likely.

  But three days of debauchery and fun?

  Hell, yes.

  Deducting the six hours and now twenty minutes from the seventy–two hours they’d been given when they hit the ground running, Callie figured she had plenty of time to shake off some of the wander lust and loneliness she’d been carrying for longer than she bothered to remember anymore. Being a concubine for the sea god wasn’t all that bad. She led a pampered life, well protected and cared for, surrounded by her sister nymphs—all in all, not a terrible gig.

  She spun in a circle and shook her hips, singing along with the piped-in music. Modern music delighted her. A man only an inch or so taller than her five foot eleven caught her eye as she twirled, and his crooked grin revealed a chipped front tooth and a dimple in his left chee
k. She winked at him, and gave an especially saucy grind of her hips.

  He started toward her, winding his way around the racks between their bodies, chin length, dark hair swinging forward to cover one, brown eye.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Petra hauled on her wrist, making a beeline for the sidewalk. “We’re here for love, not quickies in the alley.”

  “Have you ever had a quickie in an alley, Petra?” Callie glanced over her shoulder and waved to the dark haired twenty-something hot on their trail. Petra jerked on Callie’s arm, sending her tumbling over her flip flops when she took a hard left around the corner. “’Cause it can be fun.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know, for someone who was telling me to slow down not that long ago, you sure are haulin’ ass now.” Callie shoved her hair back from her eyes, the red, unruly mass blinding her. A big wiff of chemicals from the dye Petra insisted on blew up her nose, and she sneezed. “Slow down. Let’s say hi to him. We’ve shared Big P. loads of times. Let’s give that guy a little something he’ll never forget, huh?”

  “No. We don’t have time.” Long, black curls tumbled up and down over her friend’s back as she strode around people on the street, almost plowing a good chunk of them over. She peeked over her shoulder and her eyes dilated to proportions Callie hadn’t seen since the time they smoked a hookah with a bunch of satyrs on the Isle of Man. Poseidon stuck them both on castle arrest for a month after that one. “Ah, Callie, you sure he’s just a human?”

  “Yeah, of course. Why?” The heavy weight of a rough palm on her shoulder nearly took her to her knees, but Callie steadied herself and whirled with one forearm raised to knock the offending appendage off. The sharp heat of impact burned into her muscle and bone. Pain reverberated up to her shoulder. “Ouch! What the hell?”

  The guy from the store dug his fingers in for a moment and their eyes met. His mouth dropped open and he released her, the shock gone from his expression and replaced with a stern frown. Callie fought the urge to massage her arm where it had made impact with his. The forming bruise would be gone before her skin even discolored. She looked him over more closely—confused—and pursed her lips. Something was off about him.

  “What are you doing here?” The low timbre of his voice caused her pussy to clench and swell in anticipation. His nostrils flared, and he leaned in closer, taking an audible sniff of the skin where her neck and shoulder met.

  Before she could respond, Petra shoved her to the side and poked him right in the middle of his very wide, muscular chest. His blue T-shirt strained over his pecs and biceps. His upper body a perfect vee shape that disappeared into a pair of jeans that molded around thick, heavy thighs.

  A guy with legs like that could pin a nymph to the wall for hours.

  “Hey buddy, who do you think you are grabbing my sister like that?” Petra got close enough that nothing but a deep breath separated their chests and jabbed him again.

  Callie swallowed a snort of laughter and clamped her palm over her mouth. The man, or male—she couldn’t be sure he was human, he’d caught up to them much too quickly—towered over Petra and glared right back at her, a deep line creasing the space between his eyebrows. He probably wasn’t used to tiny women sassing him.

  He captured Petra’s hand against his chest, hauling her up and against him so that they touched from chest to shins. The height difference put her generous breasts tight to his abdomen, and he blinked rapidly, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline before he lowered his forehead toward hers and his eyes flashed bright red.

  “I’m the guardian of this neighborhood, and I want to know what you two are up to.” One huge hand clasped the back of Petra’s head, disappearing into her dark curls. “An influx of women who smell like a mixture of salt water and sex have been traipsing through here lately causing all kinds of trouble, and I want to know… Who. You. Are.”

  Callie’s heart fluttered in her chest and her stomach clenched. “Hey, big guy, calm down. We’re not going to cause any trouble.”

  The cool grasp of callused skin on her bicep sent her skittering to the side, and she swallowed a gasp.

  A replica of the male who had Petra stood a foot away, his hand still in the air at chest height. He smiled, revealing the dimple in his cheek, and scrubbed at his hair. “Sorry, beautiful. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The good natured twinkle in his eyes allowed her to relax a fraction, but Callie didn’t let her attention waver from either male for long.

  What to do? The males, whatever species they were, boasted muscles stacked on muscles. They hadn’t gotten violent yet, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think things couldn’t head that way. She focused on the large puddle directly behind the one currently skewering Petra with his gaze and readied her magic to douse him in a sheet of dirty water.

  “Tell your friend to back off.” She frowned and he held his hands up, palms out. “You were the one in the store, weren’t you? At first I thought he was—”she gestured toward the one still restraining Petra, “—but I think now that I was wrong.”

  “Guilty.” The charming dimple deepened, and he took a half step toward her. “Theo is just overreacting. There’ve been quite a few of you lovely ladies in town lately, and it’s making him jumpy.”

  Callie tapped her foot and huffed.

  “Well, look, we’re not going to cause trouble.” Petra strained against the tight bracket of his arms, slender muscles showing in her biceps. Theo regarded her down his nose and cocked one eyebrow. Petra huffed, drew her leg back, and kicked him in the shin. “Oh, mother fucker! My toes!”

  Theo released Petra, and she jumped up and down on one foot, holding her toes. “By Medusa’s stone cold ass! You broke them.”

  “You shouldn’t have struck me.” The cool superiority of his statement combined with the haughty look on his face as he released her sister-nymph sent Callie into a fit of giggles.

  “I really don’t see how this is funny, Callie. My phalanges broke at the tips and first joint.” Petra settled her weight on the injured appendage and wriggled her toes.

  Carbon Copy laughed as well, a deep, wild laugh that raised the hairs on her arms and sent a phantom caress over her skin.

  “They’re healed already. Chill, babe. Next time you want to kick some unknown male, wear steel toe boots instead of sandals.” Callie snickered and patted her friend’s hair.

  Petra and Theo glared at her and Carbon Copy, which sent them into another laughing fit.

  “I’ll ask one more time. Politely. What are you doing in my territory?” Theo crossed his arms and glowered, but the outer corner of his mouth twitched.

  “We’re Oceanids.” Petra finger combed her hair, and then bound it into a French twist meant to tame the unruly curls. Instead, they fell around her face and down the nape of her neck in a beguiling curtain of spirals. She produced a jawed clip from her waistband and clamped the mess down. “You know, water nymphs.”

  “Really?” The sexy mass of muscle next to Callie sidled up to Petra and tugged on one of the curls brushing her shoulder. She flinched away from him and tucked it into the clip she’d used to secure the rest of her hair.

  Theo snorted and rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

  The huge, sexy, stick in the mud needed to take his attitude and lose it somewhere. What a stuffy asshole.

  “Yes, really.” Callie flicked her finger, and the pool of rainwater behind Theo splashed against his back from calves to shoulders. He went rigid, and his cheeks turned a ruddy crimson beneath the healthy stubble growing there. Water dripped from his fingertips. She crossed her arms over her chest. This guy was too much. “And we’re not going to cause any trouble—at least—not any real trouble.”

  “You rotten little—” Theo began to advance on her, but his twin stepped between them and turned to her, pointing with his index finger.

  “Now, now, that wasn’t very nice.” His chest shook with suppressed mirth and Callie tried to control her facial
muscles, but a shit-eating grin stretched her mouth anyway. A man with a sense of humor—exactly what a sex-deprived nymph needed to alleviate the terrible ache overtaking her girly-bits.

  It’d been almost two days since her last good tumble. Much too long.

  “What?” She schooled her expression into her best impression of complete innocence. The little virgin priestesses Athena kept had taught it to her, and she thought she had it down pretty damn well. Carbon Copy blinked and frowned. She ducked her head to hide the grin tugging at her mouth and adjusted one of her bracelets, turning the braided thread until the shells woven into it were positioned in the exact middle of the back of her right wrist. She patted the jewelry with the fingers of her left hand, and raised her gaze when she had herself under control. Straightening her posture to thrust her breasts out, she cocked one hip. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  The deep dimple flirted with her again and he bowed from the waist. “Logan.” He titled his head to make eye contact and winked at her.

  Oh, hot damn, this was just what the doctor ordered.

  Theo grunted and shoved the other male aside. Logan stumbled, but caught his balance before falling on his undoubtedly firm ass. “Enough of this. You’re nymphs. Fine. Answer my question. Why are you here?”

  “Ah. Well, you see…” Callie cast about for a way to answer him. What would the supernatural community say if they knew that Poseidon’s nymphs had left him? She wasn’t in love with him, but she’d been a part of his harem for a couple thousand years. If nothing else, she did feel a deep affection for him. And he was a pretty great lay as well. But it might damage his reputation if word got out that his nymphs had headed for the mainland.

  Petra cleared her throat and laced their arms together. “We’re looking for mates. And we started out with three days to do it in. Now, you’ve wasted a good ten minutes of that with all this posturing and blathering. If you don’t mind, we have places to go and men to fuck.”