Stud

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Terri came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but the gold bracelets I bought her. My eyes darted to the door and she slowly walked over to it and locked it.

  “How’s your brother?” I forced out, willing myself to look into her beautiful eyes instead of her luscious tits.

  “He’s gained consciousness, but he’s still flat out. He had an allergic reaction to one of the binders in the pills he was taking. They’re giving it to him in liquid form to see if that will work. They’re going to keep him under observation. Elaine’s with him now.”

  “I think there’s something going on between the two of them,” I said, hoping she didn’t expect me to keep my hands to myself.

  “She’s Maeva.”

  “What?”

  “Yup. He didn’t want to tell me because he knew I hated her as my boss and he felt bad that he liked her.”

  “Holy shit,” I said and then I refused to think about it.

  “I wanted to apologize.” She walked up to me and unbuckled my belt. Drawing it through the loops slowly, she smiled up at me. “I never gave you an answer. That was rude of me.”

  “About that,” I began, but then she unbuttoned my pants and pulled out my cock.

  All thoughts fled when she touched me like that. I enjoyed her stroking me before I realized, hey dumbass, she’s naked, and my hands sprang to life. I touched her between her thighs because I couldn’t get enough of how fucking hot and wet she always was. We rubbed each other until I was about to come in her hand.

  “Not yet.” I stopped her from jerking me off. Leading her to the window, I stood behind her with my arms around her body. “You first.” I went back to flicking her hard little clit and tugging on her nipples. Sucking on her neck, I ground my cock into her ass as she sighed and moaned in my arms. Terri squirmed and tried to get away as my fingers stroked her relentlessly. Then she gasped and went limp as she soaked my hand.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, turning her around so I could suck on her tits and grab handfuls of her ass while I did it.

  She pushed me down into my chair and straddled me. I was deep within her before I realized we didn’t have a condom. I froze. “Wait. We need a condom.” Holy crap, though, did it feel incredible without it. I could come by just her squeezing me with the walls of her pussy. “Stop. Baby. Please.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to marry you. I’m going to be a stepmother to Janet’s baby. And if we make another one, then he’ll have someone to play with.”

  “Wait,” I managed to croak out before she rode me hard and I didn’t give a fuck about anything else but coming while my face was buried in her chest.

  Her nails dug deep into my shoulders and I helped her along, with two handfuls of her ass. She swore and threw her head back, coming with a litany of yeses.

  I couldn’t take any more and came inside her wet heat. I almost passed out from the intensity. I was still hard so I turned her over my desk. Pushing everything off the desk with a sweep of her hand, Terri spread her legs wide open for me and I continued to fuck her fast and hard, just like she liked it. She moaned into my desk blotter and I wondered if we were making too much noise, but I just didn’t care enough to try to be quiet.

  “Mick,” she panted. “Mick, I love you.”

  She made me come again and my knees went weak. I managed to get her to the couch and held her until we both stopped shaking.

  “I love you too, Kitten.”

  Epilogue

  Terri

  8:57 A.M.

  We walked into the Beanery. Elaine already had Janet’s coffee ready to go in a tray, along with a large black coffee and a large cappuccino. I waved at Billy. He was probably working on his computer homework before his appointments. The clinical trial had shown some improvement. Once they realized that he needed to take the medicine in liquid form, Billy’s condition leveled out. It wasn’t getting any better, but at least it wasn’t getting any worse. For now.

  When I moved in with Mick, Elaine moved in with Billy. I think it was something they had both wanted to do for some time but didn’t because of his illness. I missed seeing him every day, but I didn’t miss seeing him in pain.

  I admired the big honking ring on my finger and couldn’t believe how things had worked out. Laila was willing to work with Simon so their kids didn’t suffer. She even watched over Janet’s baby for them when they went on a short honeymoon once Simon’s divorce with Laila went through. I wasn’t sure I would have been able to be that mature about things. I still wanted to rip Janet’s hair out and Mick never even touched her.

  We drank our coffee on the way into the office.

  “Are you going to see your father this Thursday?” I asked.

  Mick looked up from his phone. “Either Thursday or Friday. It depends on his schedule.”

  Warren Wentworth did have to do time. He was in a minimum-security prison serving ten years, but he’d probably get out in five. In addition to paying the money back to the Wentworth Agency, he agreed to teach marketing courses inside the prison. He seemed to enjoy it and whether Mick was ready to admit it or not, it had brought them back together.

  His mother, on the other hand, remained MIA. Which everyone was silently relieved about. The rumor was she found a boy toy in Vegas and was spending her money on him. I figured she’d be around again causing trouble once the well ran dry. But that wasn’t something I dwelled on.

  I was happy at the Wentworth Agency, working with Mick and Simon. Lemmingware was thrilled with how we handled their expansion and they remain our biggest client. Sometimes I sit at my desk and wonder if this is a game I’m playing and pretending I’m an ad exec on Madison Avenue. But then Mick takes me into his office for some shenanigans and I remember that my imagination isn’t that good.

  “I love you,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  Yeah, I couldn’t have come up with that a year ago.

  I snapped my fingers in his face. “You better.”

  Then we’re making out in the car again and Lionel has to knock on the window when we get into the office to get us to stop.

  It’s going to be a good Monday today.

  To my MTBs, you know who you are!

  Acknowledgments

  I’m constantly amazed by my team at Random House. A big thank-you to my publicists, Madeleine Kenney and Erika Seyfried, who always manage to get the word out in a big way about all my releases. Thanks also to Sue Grimshaw and my editors for catching all my mistakes and helping me to be a better writer. I couldn’t do this without you guys. I really appreciate it.

  BY JAMIE K. SCHMIDT

  Sentinels of Babylon

  Necessary Evil

  Sentinel’s Kiss

  Club Inferno

  Heat

  Longing

  Fever

  Hawaii Heat

  Life’s a Beach

  Other Books

  Stud

  Hard Cover (coming soon)

  PHOTO: JOEY JONES FROM EXPOSURES

  USA Today bestselling author JAMIE K. SCHMIDT has published more than thirty short stories in small-press journals and e-zines. She’s an active member in the Romance Writers of America. When not writing, she relaxes with a mug of hot tea and knits or makes beaded jewelry.

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  Read on for an excerpt from

  Hard Cover

  by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  Dawn

  Rory Parker was a billionaire douchebag who looked like a movie star. I knew this because I Google stalked him when he started sending me emails. They had grown vaguely threatening the more I ignored them. He was a combo of old money and real estate mogul. Rory was planning an urban renewal project on the line
of shops by the Haven docks. He was throwing money around that had everyone scrambling to sell out. I wanted to punch him in his perfect white teeth.

  When the emails didn’t work, he sent my landlord in with an offer to buy me out of my lease. I ripped up the paperwork and set it on fire inside the copper bowl by my cash register. It had been worth the citation for the fire hazard. I’ll pay that fine next month, as well as another one when the next bullshit charge they try to levy on me comes around. The town’s government officials were collecting offenses hoping to evict me, but they were going to have to work a lot harder on that one. I paid my rent on time and I was a model tenant—if a little eccentric.

  After that, the emails stopped and I hoped that would be the end of it. I couldn’t care less if I was delaying hometown boy’s pet project. I still had two years left on my lease. He and this town could kiss my ass until then. I’d have to find a new home for my bookstore before my lease was up, and it probably wouldn’t be in this town. No one would rent to me here. I was the quartz in their otherwise shining jeweled crown of the conservative New England town of Haven. On the shoreline of Connecticut, eight months out of the year the only customers I had were locals that I brought in through workshops and my lecture series. But during the summer, I made a great deal of money selling unique books about feminism, sex, and various forms of enlightenment.

  The tinkling bells over the door alerted me someone was coming into the bookstore. I glanced up as a woman walked in with her two children. She took one look at me, grabbed their hands, and rushed out of the store.

  Namaste, bitch.

  I wasn’t your usual bookstore owner and I certainly didn’t belong in this stretch of storefronts—at least that’s what some of the town politicians thought. They replaced the potter who had the store next to me with a store that sold Limoges, Waterford crystal goblets, and Hummel figurines. The old fisherman on the other side of me took Rory’s generous buyout offer as well. Packing up his handmade birdhouses and fishing lures, Old Man Mack left an empty store that smelled vaguely of Skoal tobacco and codfish. They replaced him with a small art gallery, with painters I’ve never heard of and who certainly weren’t local.

  The First Selectmen of the town—Rory’s father—said they wanted to replace my store with a bookstore that sold things that would be more universally appealing. I offered to put a few USA Today bestsellers in the front window as a compromise, but that wasn’t good enough.

  My best friend, Camille, worked in the Selectmen’s office and overheard a secret conversation between my landlord and the Selectmen. I quickly installed cameras and put up a sign that said: IF YOU ENTER THIS STORE, YOU AGREE TO BE VIDEOTAPED. I had to assure my regulars that it was for security reasons and not because anyone wanted to spy on their purchases. It had lost me some customers.

  But it saved my ass when the boy they sent in to buy a pack of tarot cards complained that I sold him drugs. I was able to show the police the video transaction and exonerate myself, much to my landlord’s chagrin.

  Fucker.

  It was a beautiful summer day, and two tourists wandered around my bookstore. They seemed to be boaters looking for a paperback to read on the beach or out on Long Island Sound. I could hear them giggling in scandalous delight at a few of the erotic romance novels I had in the back. I carried local self-published authors, so chances were these were new series for them.

  As I eavesdropped on their whispered conversation as they read the juicy bits to each other, a man wearing black socks with his sandals stormed into the shop. The tinkling bells filled the air with music, which took some of the menace out of his entrance. He slammed a package on the counter. “I demand to speak to the manager.”

  “You’re speaking to her.” I grinned as he took in my nose ring, tongue ring, and tattoos.

  “You?”

  Rolling my eyes at the camera that was above his head recording this transaction, I said, “How may I help you?” Unfortunately, I didn’t have any uptight-asshole remedies.

  “I want a refund.”

  “May I see your receipt?”

  My politeness seemed to throw him and he searched the bag. “I don’t have it.”

  I stifled a sigh. “When did you buy it?”

  “I wouldn’t shop here.”

  Yeah, he wasn’t my demographic. I couldn’t see him buying a tantric soundtrack or a fertility statue. Sliding the bag toward me, I pulled out a well-loved copy of The Woman’s Journey. Some pages had been highlighted, and others were dog-eared. I looked in the front and it had been signed by the author, Joan Miller. The dedication read, “To Delores, You are worthy of love, respect, and happiness.” I had done a book signing for Joan in January. She always drew a big crowd. Her fans were always grateful for the opportunity to meet her.

  “Fill this out, please, and I’ll process your return.” I passed him a sheet I made up. He would have to put his name, address, and phone number on it.

  “Do I have to do this?”

  “Without your receipt, I need this filled out in order to give you a refund. Otherwise, I’ll have to give you store credit.”

  He blanched and filled out the paperwork.

  When he handed it back to me, I looked it up online to make sure it was a real address. Nodding, I opened up the register and handed him back a ten-dollar bill.

  “The price is fifteen,” he pointed out.

  “Restocking fee,” I deadpanned.

  He glared at me, but he pocketed the money and strode out. I put the book inside a padded mailing envelope along with a few bookmarks. I addressed the package to Delores and put in a note that she should probably hide this better from—I looked at the return slip—Walter. Weighing the package, I printed out the stamps and left it in the bin for the mailman to pick up later.

  I rang up the tourists’ books and gave them walking directions to the Village Wharf restaurant. They had the best fish stew in the state. Served up with their homemade bread, I could eat that for lunch every day.

  The doorbells tinkled as they left and I went in the back to nuke my tea. That jerkoff Rory hustled the tea seller off as well. She had gone to Loonsbury, which was a hippy-er town than Haven. But it was in the center of the state. I would miss the Shoreline too much if I moved out there. I munched on a granola bar while I waited for my tea. All the talk of the Village Wharf had my stomach grumbling. Maybe I’d put the BE RIGHT BACK sign up and get some stew and a loaf of bread to go.

  The bells announced another customer and I walked out of the back still chewing and dusting crumbs off my boobs. I froze mid-step when I recognized Rory Parker from his website photo. Instead of being in a suit and tie, he was dressed in a polo shirt and khaki shorts. All he needed was a sweater tied over his back and a tennis racket and he would fit right in with ninety percent of the people I went to high school with.

  “Dawn Nolan?” he asked.

  Nope, just another tattooed, pierced chick with purple hair. “Hello, Rory,” I said.

  His smile should be illegal. He was the exact opposite of my type, yet here I was forcing myself not to smile back.

  “Nice store.” He nodded without taking his eyes off mine.

  I refused to let him get me hot and bothered, but the challenge in his gaze was a turn-on. “Are you looking to get in touch with your feminine side?”

  “Sure, what do you recommend?”

  I hated being condescended to, but I was more than up for the challenge of embarrassing the hell out of him. I brushed by him, because he wouldn’t move, and got a cheap thrill rubbing against his hard body. So he worked out. Big deal.

  Trailing my fingers over the spines of the books, I found the one I wanted. How to Orgasm Like a Woman. I handed it to him and watched as he tried not to choke at the title.

  “They say a man can achieve multiple orgasms, like a woman. But I’m not sure I buy that. Men don’t have the right”—I paused and looked him up and down—“equipment for it.”

  Rory opened his mouth. S
hut it. And repeated that a few times.

  Score one for me.

  I was behind the counter with my tea before he fully recovered. “You can’t possibly be making rent selling this crap.”

  I bristled at the crap comment, but tried to soothe myself. It’s not like I hadn’t heard it before. “I’m sure you’ve checked my finances and my on-time rent payments. That’s $15.95, but if you sign up for our newsletter, you get ten percent off your purchase today.”

  Rubbing his hand down his perfect face, he pinched his nose. “Look, you seem to be a savvy businesswoman.”

  “Don’t say it like it’s an oxymoron,” I said in my coldest voice.

  Rory grimaced in frustration. I found it cute. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  I’d actually like to put my tongue in his mouth and that surprised me. He smelled like the ocean and I couldn’t help but wondering if he’d be wild like the sea in a storm during sex. I licked my lips. I’d like to try him out. I tended to dominate the crap out of Ivy League boys like this and it was always fun. Once.

  “I’m offering you three times your yearly income, as well as buying you out of your lease.” He slapped a check for $120,000 on the counter.

  I blinked at it. I could buy my own house for that. Of course, nowhere near the ocean. Swallowing hard, I had to clench my fists to keep from taking the check. I could buy a new car and drive anywhere in the United States. Get far away from here and all the emotional baggage I still carried with me. I could find another store. Start all over again where no one knew me as Judge Nolan’s delinquent daughter. It was tempting.

  “Take it,” Rory said in a voice as smooth as chocolate syrup.