Badd Motherf*cker: Badd Brothers (13 page)

But looking back, those had all been serious mistakes. Well, I mean, I could still get a job if I went back to Seattle. That much, at least, didn’t depend on Michael and the wedding.
 

If?
 

No…that was crazy talk. Of course I was going back.
 

Just…not yet.
 

The cabin of the sailboat was nice and warm and cozy and dry, and most of all, private. I could chill here. Relax alone, no fucked-up situations to navigate.
 

I stripped off my clothes and laid them out to dry, went into the bedroom and climbed into the bed, pulled the covers up to my chin…and promptly fell asleep.
 

When I woke up again, my phone told me I’d slept four more hours, and I was still tired. So I unlocked my phone, pulled up the Kindle app, and read for a few hours, finishing one book and starting another. I read until my eyes dragged again, and then set my phone aside and let my eyes close, letting myself float back under the surface of consciousness. The next time I breached awareness, it was dark outside and the rain had stopped. My phone read just past ten at night, and I was wired. I dressed in my mostly dry clothes, remade the bed, left the boat and jogged across the street to Badd’s.  
 

The bar was middling busy, with every seat at the bar and most of the tables full, but it wasn’t quite standing room only. Zane was behind the bar, and looked like he was holding his own, popping the top on a beer, then pouring a little too much vodka into a highball…he was no Sebastian behind the bar.
 

I angled up to the bar and got Zane’s attention. “Where is he?”
 

Zane shrugged as he added tonic to the vodka, a wedge of lime, and a straw. “Not sure. Out back, maybe? Thought I saw him head out that way. He couldn’t have gone far, because it’s so busy. If it gets any busier around here, I’ll have to fire myself.”  
 

“Thanks,” I said, and wandered through the kitchen, to the back door, which was propped open by a big jug of frying oil.  
 

I heard voices, one of them definitely Sebastian’s. I peered through the opening and saw Sebastian leaning against a wall, hands in his hip pockets, a frown on his face. There was a woman facing him. Scantily clad would be an overstatement. Miniskirt so short it barely covered her ass and nothing but a bralette on up top. Five-inch heels, teased-out hair. And she had her hands all over Sebastian. He wasn’t touching her back, but he wasn’t stopping her either. They were in profile to me, so I could see everything.
 

“It was good between us, wasn’t it, Sebastian?” Her voice was wheedling, trying to be seductive. “I made you feel good. You remember what I can do with my mouth, don’t you?”
 

“Allie…god, stop. We’re not doing this.” He shifted, so he wasn’t quite as close to her, pulling away subtly. “
I’m
not doing this. You should go.”
 

She just laughed. “I’m not asking you to date me, I’m just…looking for a good time. That’s what you’re best at, right? A quick and easy good time? That’s all I’m looking for.”  

“Allie, you’re not hearin’ me.”

She sank to her knees, her hands going to his fly. “Oh come on, Sebastian. You know you want this. You know how good I can suck your cock, don’t you? I can suck your cock and make it last for hours, Sebastian.” She was stroking his length over his underwear, getting ready to take him out and blow him. “That feels good, doesn’t it? You’re so hard it aches. I can fix that for you, baby.”
 

I felt betrayed. Stupid, but I couldn’t un-feel it. He owed me nothing. He was nothing to me. But there it was, raw and real and undeniable, sitting like a ton of jagged-edge bricks on top of the already raw wound of Michael’s betrayal. I couldn’t handle this, too.
 

I turned to leave and my foot hit something that clattered; I heard Sebastian’s voice shouting my name, but I wasn’t about to stop and listen to him.  
 

No point.  
 

I ran pell-mell through the kitchen, back across the bar, ignoring Zane’s curious expression.
 

Outside it was raining again, not a torrential downpour but a steady rain. Enough to soak me through in the few steps I made it out of the door before I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.  
 

Not a smart move. I couldn’t have helped my reaction even if I’d wanted to, and I didn’t want to. I grabbed his wrist, pivoted to put my shoulder in his armpit and used my momentum and shorter stature to haul him over my body in a brutal throw. He landed on his back in the street, gasping and blinking up at me.  
 

“Do not EVER put your hands on me like that, asshole. Not ever. Thought you’d have learned that already, but I guess not.” I turned away from him and started walking down the street.
 

He was still gasping for breath, but managed to make it to his feet, haltingly, painfully. “Wait—” He coughed, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. “Dru, please. Please wait.”
 

“Why? You’ve got your ex waiting for a redo. Why would you want me?” He stumbled around in front of me, put his hands up placatingly, but he didn’t touch me. His jeans were still open and unzipped, I noticed.
 

“I didn’t let that desperate slut touch me, Dru. I kicked her ass to the curb before I even knew you’d seen anything. The second she tried to put her hand on my cock I stopped her. I told her to leave, and I wasn’t nice about it. She’s not an ex, okay? She’s just some chick I boned once and she was sniffing around, hoping for seconds.”
 

“And that’s supposed to reassure me?” I crossed my arms over my chest and shot a look at his fly.

He glanced down, realized he was still open, and zipped and buttoned his jeans. “No, I just—”
 

“Because that’s all I’ll be too, eventually, right? Some desperate bitch showing up hoping for a pity fuck from the almighty Sebastian?”
 

“That’s not what I meant.” He sounded a little irritated.
 

And I knew I wasn’t being rational. He didn’t owe me anything. I had no right to treat him this way. If he wanted to fuck someone else he could, and there was nothing I could say. If he wanted to let some chick blow him in the alley behind his bar, he had every right to that, and he owed me zero explanations.
 

And honestly, the fact that I felt like he
did
owe me that, that I wanted it from him…bothered me. I shouldn’t want that.  
 

At that moment, I saw Zane poke his head out the door of the bar. “Yo, Bast. Need your help, brother. Gettin’ a little hairy in here.”  
 

Sebastian growled in frustration. “I gotta go. But please, don’t leave. I didn’t touch her, didn’t let her touch me. She means nothing to me, Dru, and that’s the truth whether you believe it or not. I don’t normally go around explaining my shit to anyone, but for some reason the thought of letting you just leave without—I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know—”
 

“SEBASTIAN!” Zane’s voice was powerful and irritated, now. “Got pissed-off customers, man. Let’s go. This can happen later.”  
 

“Go, Sebastian,” I said. “Your brother needs you.”  
 

He growled again. “Please don’t leave. This ain’t over, honey. Not by a long shot.”
 

And then he was trotting back into the bar, and I was alone in the street, in the rain, completely clueless as to what I was even supposed to think or feel, much less what to do next. So I went back to the sailboat. Felt at odd ends, loose, adrift, with nothing to do.  

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted more with Sebastian. I wanted
him
, full stop. It was foolish, probably. I’d only end up being hurt worse than ever, left to crawl back to Daddy in Seattle and try to rebuild the shattered ruins of my fucked-up life. Staying was a risk. And for what? A few minutes of feeling good in Sebastian Badd’s strong arms?
 

Fuck yes.
Exactly
for that. Because those few minutes promised to be…shit, better than anything I’d ever experienced. I just
knew
that’s what it would be. Life-changing, earth-shattering sex. And goddammit, but I wanted that. I wanted it bad.
 

But was I really willing to risk getting all attached to Sebastian because of how good the fucking was, only to have him send me packing once he’d had his fill of me? Because if what I’d had with Michael hadn’t been good enough for
him
to stay faithful, then what were the chances a man like Sebastian would find me satisfying? I mean, he was a god. Beyond gorgeous, tough, rough, dominant, skilled at sex, ran his own bar, had women so desperate for a second round with his cock that they were willing to do anything to get it, even blow him in the alley just for a chance to have more with him. And here was me, who couldn’t even get a boring regular old Joe like Michael to remain faithful.  
 

Yeah, good luck. But something inside me insisted I give him a shot. Because it
would
be that good. It would be worth the risk.    
 

I tried to put it out of my mind for a while.
 

I read, scrolled through social media on my phone, checked the news apps, read some more. Managed to crash again, even though I’d slept most of the day already.

I woke up with dim gray light filtering in though the windows. My phone was dead, so I had no idea what time it was, but my guess would have been around seven or eight in the morning.    
 

And my first thought was Sebastian.  
 

I wanted him. I knew it was likely to end badly, but some crazy, impulsive drive inside me was telling me to go for it. That I couldn’t let Michael wreck my life, or force me to put up even higher walls than I already had. I couldn’t let Michael’s betrayal turn me into a coward, into someone too scared to go after what she wanted. And I wanted Sebastian. I had no clue what it would look like, how it would go, how it would end, or if my heart would survive the experience, but I was willing to take a chance. I
had
to.

Fuck it.
 

I shoved open the door of the cabin, ducked out, slammed the door behind me, and jogged through the downpour back across the street. I opened the door to the bar, but found it empty. The lights were all off, and the door to the stairs leading up to the apartment was open, so I figured he must be up there, probably sleeping since it was still early morning.
 

I found Zane crashed on the couch looking sleepy but watching the news on TV. He blinked at me, and then jerked a thumb at the hallway. “His room’s the one at the very end.”

Sebastian’s door was closed but not latched, so I went in. He had a king size bed with a simple metal railing headboard and footboard, with messy flannel sheets and a thick fleece blanket. A dresser with six drawers, one of them open, a T-shirt hanging half out, a dish on top containing a handful of change, a Leatherman multitool, and an old silver watch. Underwear on the floor, a pair of jeans. An old, battered Taylor acoustic guitar in the corner sitting on the wide bottom, a pick in the strings on the neck. A pair of Timberland boots, well worn. A wool pea coat hanging off the open door of the closet, looking like it had been hanging there on the open door since the end of last winter. Nothing on the walls, no alarm clock, no phone cord or radio or anything, nothing electronic at all, as a matter of fact. The only things on the nightstand table next to the bed were a litre bottle of water and a small framed black and white photo of a woman, who I assumed was his mother, standing next to a man who I assumed was his father.
 

No Sebastian, though.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and I peeked in, got a glimpse in the mirror of Sebastian standing facing the toilet.

Legs spread wide apart, head ducked, shoulders heaving. Jeans tugged down around his thighs to bare a taut, muscular ass with a dusting of dark hair. One of his hands was braced on the wall in front of his face, his arm straightened to hold up his weight, and the other was in front of his body. He was rigid, his ass flexed forward. His arm was moving back and forth slowly.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice low and snarling.
 

And unexpected. I jumped when he growled that curse word, caught spying on him. Watching him masturbate.
 

“Dru…
fuck—
” he rumbled.

He was jerking off thinking about me? My heart hammered, my gut twisted, my hands shook, and my core heated.

I couldn’t look away. Absolutely could not.

I moved slightly, adjusting my angle so now instead of seeing just his back, I could see more of his profile in the mirror. His fist sliding up and down his huge, hard length. And I do mean
huge
and
hard
.
 

I watched as he stroked himself, and felt heat billow through me, felt wetness seep into my panties. He didn’t hurry, just stroked himself slowly and leisurely, taking his time. After a couple minutes of slow stroking, his hips started to flex back and forth, and his breath started to huff past gritted teeth, and his fist started to move a little faster.
 

He hadn’t seen me; his eyes were shut tight, his jaw clenched as his fist flew faster and faster.
 

And then he stopped. His eyes flicked open, and he reached out, pumped a handful of lotion into his palm, smeared it on his cock, and began stroking again, starting slowly and working quickly back up to speed.

“Dru…god,
Dru
…”
 

My heart hammered every time he said my name, and my core dripped desire at the sight of his big hand sliding up and down his huge, hard cock. I pictured my own hand on him, stroking him…I’d need both hands, and could probably only fit a little bit into my mouth.

But then he glanced in the mirror, and saw me.