Glorious Disaster Read online

  Glorious Disaster

  Piper Kay

  Encompass Ink

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  Your support of the authors’ rights is appreciated. The persons, places, and events of this novel are works of fiction. Any coincidence with individual’s past or present, is merely that, coincidence.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Piper Kay Stalker links

  Chapter 1

  My arms wrap around his warm and tight waist and I pull him into me, close. Unfastening him, his jeans hit the floor, blowing a slight drift across my bare feet. He lets out a gasp with a sigh. His shirt’s already off, I took care of that minutes ago and I reach for his chest, tweaking each nipple ring in succession, twirling them in my fingertips. I must admit… I love how they harden and perk at my every twist and touch. Mine drag across the skin on his back, tightening and perking to every move.

  “Oh, fuck me Calen.” He purrs and grinds back into me.

  “Mmmm… whatever you beg. You know I will, but are you sure that’s what you want, or did you mean make love to you, because that’s a no go for me.” Here we go again, just as planned. I don’t do it on purpose, but it always works out this way. Same argument…different evening. It’s getting old. Must be time to ditch out now.

  “I hate you when you do this.” He, Ryan, grumbles as expected and pushes back into me.

  Fuck I feel horrible, but what do I do, lie to him… no way? “I know and I’m sorry, but I’ve never lied to you about it or who I am, have I?” I reach down for his cock, slightly entering him from behind as he does. Condom already in place and lubed, ready to go.

  “No, which makes me despise you even more.” He grunts. No he doesn’t. “I can’t do this anymore with you anymore Calen.” I like how he accents the long ‘a’ over my name not pronouncing it like the words ‘call in’. I just can’t handle him though, always wanting a commitment.

  He reaches down for his pants and pulls them up quickly, side swiping me and knocking my dick away from his hole and begins to tuck himself inside. “When you’re ready to take me serious, give me a call.” Never gonna happen, it’s not in me to do this.

  I quickly take him in my hand stroking him back and forth. “Why do you need things to change so much?” I try to lower his pants again. “Why can’t it just be this and nothing more?” I ask, tightening my grip as I take him from base to tip over his swollen head. “At least let me have you one last time before you go. You always say how much you love it. One last time?”

  I’m trying my best to be sensitive… well sort of. I just don’t do it very well. I speak the truth, he and I will never be a couple but it’s not his fault-that falls on me. I always say the wrong things at the most inopportune times.

  “Is that what you want, Calen?” he asks, as I arch over him from behind.

  “Yes.” I kiss the back of his neck, tasting the salt from his skin.

  “Then go to hell.” He jerks away, giving me a snarl that would normally scare people, buttons up and walks out the front door.

  And that was a month ago. No word from him since. Fuck a damn duck, it figures.

  My un-luck, where do I even begin to explain how that runs up and down my spine?

  Truth! I guess that’s the best place to start.

  ‘They’ say the truth sets you free, but does it? I’ve never personally tested the theory, until now. And by the way, who are ‘they’ anyway?

  My experience is this: I’m a living, breathing, walking and talking version of a train wreck… a disaster. Literally. If I look at it, touch it, speak to it or even think about it, I’m off to derail and skid off the track, usually plowing over myself somewhere along the way, not to mention any innocent bystanders. I don’t do it on purpose, maybe my subconscious does though. I’m not a shrink, but I’d probably give some a nervous breakdown trying to sort me out.

  I think my picture’s actually in the dictionary next to the word. Disaster! I’m too leery to even check but have been told a time or ten that it’s there. It’s usually followed by stomping and a slamming door, like with Ryan, for emphasis I guess. I don’t do people well. Or people don’t handle me well, who knows. Both?

  “What am I even thinking of trying to do this tonight.” I scratch my head and speak into the airwaves.

  Besides setting myself up for failure again? Something I’m fluent in, I already plan the disaster before the event happens. It’s just a God-given talent that it will. It never doesn’t not happen…eventually.

  I strip down to my skivvies, and then pivot, heading into the bathroom, checking myself out in the mirror. Bending across to the shower, I turn the knobs to get ready to scrub up for the evening.

  ‘They’ say that we are born into this life to learn lessons from a previous life and give it another shot to make it right, to fix mistakes from the past, but it’d sure be nice to know what I screwed up in the last one, so I can fix it in this one. No clue why I was born with this insta-unlucky-karma, but it’s been riding around hunchback for thirty-three years now. Maybe I was a real prick before. Who knows. ‘They’ probably would. Those ‘they’ secret people, need to fuck on off if you ask me.

  It started when I was two years old and stuck a metal clip in a light socket catching myself on fire. It’s the first memory I recall, the rest of my life has been similar and it’s a wonder I’m even alive, much less have a friend or a business or anything at this point. If it can happen, it will to me, rest assured. I’m like a magnet to disastrous and dangerous situations.

  I mean, don‘t get me wrong… I’m not perfect in this life either so to pretend to be is absurd, but this isn’t some ‘sit on my pity pot’ or ‘woe is me’ thing, because I’m far from being a saint, but just as far from being an evil person too. I can’t see myself in any life as being some mass murder or doing anything that would really bring this karma on into another lifetime with me. Things just seem to have a way of slapping me straight up in the face with zero warning. Must be the theme of my existence though.

  I’ve never been flat out cruel or mean to anyone, not on purpose anyway, but can get shitty just as much as the next guy. Everyone has limits and buttons that can be pushed. With that same hand, I’ll also give you the shirt off my back if I think it will help you. I hold a lot of compassion in my heart, believe it or not.

  I’ve found a balance somewhere in the middle of the two. Expect the worst and hope like hell I’m wrong. It happens, but it’s far and few between when something goes right or according to planned.

  This kind of thinking makes me wary of things, especially relationships. I’ve had a few and they just bottom out, fall and head South for the border. Some are my fault, probably most, as I have a thing about being hurt. At the first sign of trouble,
I bale… heartbreak averted. It’s a built-in self-defense mechanism for me, why, again… not a clue.

  Though sometimes, I’ve been known get a wild hair up my ass to step out of my comfort zone. Tonight’s going be a perfect example of that. Who knows, maybe this time will be different.

  He asked me out for a casual dinner, which takes balls of steel for someone like me to accept. To dare take that risk…again, especially with someone new to me on this level.

  Chapter 2

  Cold water streams over me and I jump back against the ceramic wall tiles, arms spread like I’m in a shoot out, trying to reach up for the silver spicket. Once I push it off of me, I adjust the temps to anything other than the Bering-ice-freaking-Sea water that blasts the ever-loving breath out of me.

  I was hoping to get a rise out of my cock tonight, not send it into an early retirement before earning the chance. Talk about a close call. Whew. Can you say painful? Warm water brings back the blood flow and finally makes it better. I thought it’d at least take a week to yank that kind of shrinkage away.

  I look down at my cock. “Sissy, toughen up.”

  This evening, I’m plunging in hard. So not me in any form or fashion. I meet up with Griffin. Totally tall hottie with tatts to die for, and a jawline chiseled out of damn near glass. He’s almost my total opposite in every way except career wise. He’s sexy, sweet, handsome, and built like a freaking Greek God, perfect in every way. I’m sure to fail.

  Interruption: Here I go with the self-sabotaging thing I do to myself. I pick the untouchable one’s, the guys that would never blink an eye at me or give me a second look, expecting the letdown. The failure and rejection. I know it’ll happen, give it a little time. I’m his boss, so he has to be careful how he approaches it. Or he thinks he does, I’m sure. He doesn’t know I already expect it, so I’ll let him off easy because he’s innocent and this is my doing. Not before licking those tatts off his skin, if I can stay calm, cool, and collected long enough first.

  With a solemn vow to myself and to give Griffin a chance too, like he needs one-yeah right. Not hardly, any man would strip buck nekkid in his presence, and be grateful, I know I would. I’m tossing that idea out the window, just to see. Sure, at some point that karma monkey will peak over my shoulder and take hold, but I’m gonna give it a good fight this time. Seriously. No reason I should be catching a previous life’s fuck up and letting it stick to me like glue anymore. Where’s the fairness in that?

  Griff asked me out. That, for one thing never happens. I make the first moves, but he did and was so cute and adorable doing it. He’s kind of shy, and why I have no idea one day after work he’s sways up to me, head down and asks if he could take me to dinner. “I was wondering if I could take you, ummm, maybe to dinner one night.” It was just too cute the way he bit his lip and it sort of caught me off guard. I put him off for three-weeks, but he stayed persistent and asked again, so tonight’s that night.

  After cleaning up and getting ready, I’m out to Guido’s. Very ooh-la-la, posh-ish-branded, reservations only place located on The Strand in Galveston about an hour and a half away from me. The restaurant’s an open broiler type with lanterns and tiki torches for light with a grill in the middle of the room. There’s a three-level platform dance area. One on the inside with blue and white chasing lights along the edge and a red overhead spotlight, one outside near the bar area surrounded in green and purple chasing lights with a hot pink strobe and spotlight and a middle deck that can be seen from all sides with all colors running through the chasers but silver and gold pingers up top.

  Guido’s has fold and bend storm windows with roll-up wicker blinds so that no matter where you are, you get a view of the Gulf. There are no visible windows in the place, accept overhead like a garage door type, just straight beach front. Open concept theory.

  Griffin and I agreed to meet here at the bar around nine-thirty p.m. We’ll see where the evening takes us. I hope far, he’s a total dream come true.

  I walk in the front hutch wooden saloon type doors and spot him all slicked up. Long dark brown locks hanging over his shoulders and he’s decked out to a tee. He’s wearing a long sleeve velour button up black shirt. That’s all I can see from here, but it works for me. His biceps bulge in fairly tight against the sleeves, but not enough to make it look like it’s on purpose, which raises his coolness factor by like two-thousand percent. My fuck he looks delicious.

  He spots me and stands up, then grins with those perfect pearly whites shining, and waves me over to him. I can’t make out what earring he’s wearing but it’s a silver spiral, that much I can see. He raises his Corona and I nod. He turns to the bartender to order, calling him over to him.

  “Calen.” He hugs me as I approach, giving me a kiss on the neckline. God, he smells amazing, totally appealing to me with the musky scent, but his pheromones are scattering all over the floor.

  “You look amazing. It’s hard picturing you out of work clothes. I see we share the same tastes. I love your shirt.” Mine is similar to his.

  “Hmmm… I might have to dress up more often then.” I laugh, kind of embarrassed. I can’t manage to get my eyes off his thighs, pressed in tight by the muscles, with a creased seam down the middle. Fuckinghell.

  “Here you go.” He hands me my beer. “A toast…um, to a most handsome man and to no business tonight.” Griffin says and raises his glass.

  “Cheers to that.” I take a swig and reach for his face. “You don’t look to shabby yourself either. Stunning in fact. Not that you don’t dazzle in a tattered-out pair of work jeans and T-shirt too.” I hope I don’t burn myself on the flame he’s emitting like a blaze.

  “Wow.” Griffin’s face flushes pink turning red. “Stunning and dazzling, those are two mighty big words I should use for you, Mr. Sexy-licious. You make mouths water. Did you know that?”

  “Mmmm… there’s something very glorious about the thought of your mouth watering.” I grin, then lick out and gloss my tongue over my bottom lip drawing it back into my mouth. No one has ever talked to me like this right off the bat, and I’m rather fond of it. My legs keep bouncing off the floor; I do this when I’m nervous for some reason.

  “Aren’t you the playful tease.” Griffin reaches for my hand taking it in his and strokes his thumb over my knuckles.

  “What time did you finally shut the Pendleton job down today?” I ask, just realizing I totally reneged on our deal for the night. Total default on my behalf but the words already escaped my lips. Fuck!

  “Well, that didn’t last long.” His hand goes rigid and he pulls it away, his fingers slipping out of mine.

  I interlock my fingers together to keep them from tapping against the bar. Shit, here I go messing it up already…stop it Calen! Stop the shop talk on a date. Shit, shit, Fuck. I should have brought a roll of duct tape. He begins bouncing his foot against the brim on the barstool.

  I take another sip of my beer. “I’m sorry, it’s a bad habit. Did you bring any tape, like masking, electrical or duct with you? Feel free to whip it out and slap it across my mouth for talking about work. It’s all I ever really talk about to anyone, never anything personal, or not usually, that is.” I reach back for his hand and he reluctantly gives it. My thumbs accidentally tap against the space between his thumb and forefinger, shit. I’m so nervous. I bite into the right side of my bottom lip and grate it through my teeth. However, thinking of him whipping it out and slapping it across my mouth turns me on. Not that I’ll tell him that.

  “I can’t wait to get you alone.” Griffin blurts out, by accident, I’m sure. Who in their right mind would want that, much less say it?

  “Dawson, party of two is ready.” The announcer says over the speaker. Saved by the alert, it’s one less thing to stress out about messing up. Or me blurting out.

  “Shall we?” I take his hand and my beer then lead us to the host stand, trying to be a gentleman. I need a refresher course on that. “Dawson, the waiter announces again.” I better brush
up on this.

  I’m used to hook-ups only. I keep it that way for a reason. Got hurt once, many years ago when I lived in Hawaii. With him it already seems different. Uncomfortable, but dynamic, something addictive, something precise and right on point, and we’ve spent all of twenty minutes together. Can you say jump the gun much because that’s what I’m doing now?

  “Follow me please.” The waiter leads us through the packed and dim main dining room to a small booth next to the railings. I can literally reach out and grab sand if I want to.

  The cool salt-water breeze from the Gulf blows in, it’s incredible. The moon’s set high in the sky, almost to full circle, and the smell of salt water is overpowering but in a good sort of way. I’ve missed it so much, the damp salt water penetrating inside my nasal passages, I’m just loving the fact that his scent of Cool Breeze fits in with it or my mind would implode in me. All of my favorite smells in one place, fuck I want to eat him now.

  “Drinks?” The waiter asks and pulls out his pad.

  “Yes, a frozen strawberry mimosa for me, and whatever you’d like.” I nod my head at Griffin to get what he wants. Menu is open tonight.

  “The same please.” He answers and smiles. The drinks are almost ten bucks and I see the concern in his face as his thick, bushy brows furrow in the middle, then angle down.

  “Can we also get a shrimp cocktail and some stuffed mushrooms?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, already wanting to taste it.

  “Of course sir, and any appetizers for you?” The waiter asks him.

  “Um, how about a dozen oysters on the half shell.” Griff answers him and runs his fingers through his hair. His thumbs twiddle between each other, I know what he’s worried about, he thinks he has to pay the bill for this, I’ll tell him in a minute I’m not worried about it.