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Moody bastard, p.1
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       Moody Bastard, p.1

           Red Garnier
 
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Moody Bastard


  Moody Bastard

  Red Garnier

  Contents

  1. one

  2. two

  3. three

  4. four

  5. five

  6. six

  7. seven

  8. eight

  9. nine

  10. ten

  Sneak peek of Naughty Little Thief

  About the Author

  Also by Red Garnier

  Copyright © 2017 by Red Garnier

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  one

  Damien Knight’s millionaire bachelor lifestyle went to hell the day he realized he was jaded.

  He didn’t know when it happened, or even how.

  A week ago, he’d flown across the Atlantic in his luxurious private jet, on his way back to San Francisco after years of living across the continent, sowing his wild oats. He’d flown with six beautiful naked women that had composed his “harem” for a couple of years, and instead of playing with them during the long flight, he’d fallen asleep.

  Then, his suspicion was confirmed when he arrived at the city, threw a party, invited his friends and all the females he knew, and when things got interesting and his favorite kind of women—lesbians—had sandwiched him, he’d suddenly preferred to get drunk.

  He’d also failed to get drunk, even after an entire bottle of Aviator Gin, his favorite drink in the states.

  Yeah, things have really gone to shit, he decided, scowling as he drove to downtown Frisco.

  He was also moody, unpredictable, and restless, and even more dissatisfied with his groupies, his fans, and his life, than he normally was.

  Which had to be the reason he’d caved in on Bentley Knight’s favor.

  Damien had very little friends, and good friends? Hell, he only had a handful. Among them, his cousin, Bentley. So when he’d called and said, “I need you to fill in for me, man, some shit auction my sister organized. I’m stranded in O’Hare, and I need a bachelor millionaire to fill in for me. There aren’t just many of us in the city anymore and Regina begged me to give you a call.”

  “What? Is she scared of calling me?”

  “She knew you’d say no, man.”

  He burst out laughing, then he figured it couldn’t hurt to add some variety to his nightly have-an-orgy routine. Hell, maybe even his cock could use a little break from all the activity. “All right, so what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  And Bentley told him. The event was called Date a Millionaire for a Night, and if Damien’s night ended up being as corny and lame as the title, he’d rather have stayed home watching something as exciting to him as the fishing channel. Which put him down like anesthesia.

  Damien really could’ve laughed and said to find another millionaire, one without any pride, but this was Bentley. And his sister, Regina, was friends with a little redhead Damien was curious to see. So when he’d casually inquired whether Regina and her friends would be there, and when the answer had been an affirmative, Damien said yes.

  Another sign that his life was falling to shit.

  When he couldn’t stop wondering about that little redhead.

  He’d traveled for years, visiting his diamond mines in Australia and Africa, their cutting centers in Israel, making pit stops in luxurious places like Monte Carlo, London, Paris, to get laid and drunk before he continued on with his work. His goal as young had been to become the biggest diamond corporation in the world, more powerful than DeBeers, his greatest competitor, and he’d succeeded. Thanks to him, the Knight’s didn’t own jewelry stores. They owned the mines.

  He’d gotten everything he’d wanted in life. A lot of sex, a lot of women, and more money than he could almost fit in his offshore accounts. His father may have thought shit of him, but he’d proved the man wrong. He was still a bastard, but he was a very rich, very capable bastard, and in the end, Damien had been the only thing the old man had left.

  A son that wasn’t even his.

  The man Damien had grown up calling “father” had heartlessly disowned him, punishing Damien’s mother when he’d found out she’d had an affair the same day they buried her, but when the time came for Damien’s father to follow her, the old man had begged for Damien to take his name back.

  The honorable “Knight” name had come too late. Damien’s troublemaking reputation had already been cemented across the world. The respectable name, and all his billions, didn’t make Damien any less of a bad boy than he’d been when he had no name, and no bank account.

  The name had done nothing for him when he’d worked the mines with his bare hands. Thanks to his aggressive nature and asshole tendencies, he’d gotten the job done, and for several years, the worker strikes had been put to a halt, ever since Damien had taken charge.

  Oh, yeah, he didn’t have a bone of mercy in his body, because nobody had ever had mercy with him.

  But now, he felt restless like he’d never been in his life, unable to sleep, unable to enjoy…hell, anything.

  He attributed his moodiness and restlessness due to the fact that he was back in San Francisco. His memories of the city weren’t the best. The press had a field day when he’d been disowned—Damien Knight product of an illicit affair. Disowned. The memories of those times had come crashing down on him the day he landed, making him wonder—Why had he even come back?

  Hell, he didn’t know.

  He didn’t know what he was looking for anymore.

  Guess he was just tired of not belonging anywhere.

  And yet coming back to San Francisco hadn’t really made much of a difference. He was still restless and dissatisfied. Even the Victoria’s Secret models that had fooled around in his bed last night hadn’t really interested him. They’d been very content with his tongue and fingers, and with the diamonds he let them take home, but even so, they’d worked hours sucking on him, trying to get him hard.

  He scowled at the thought of such a wasted opportunity, then steered his Veyron to the right and screeched into the valet of the Four Seasons Hotel, where his idiotic sale would take place.

  He stalked across the lobby in search of the ballrooms, and then spotted the less-than-subtle sign.

  A Night with a Millionaire!

  Calling all single ladies out there! Do not miss our delicious millionaire auction, tonight only!

  He followed the stupid arrow and strode into the brightly lit room, ignoring the gasps that arose at his entry. There were easily three hundred women in here, and he didn’t want to get to know a single one. Without breaking stride, he headed straight to the back of the makeshift stage, searching for blonde, pretty Regina, Bentley’s sister, who was supposedly arranging the whole event.

  He spotted his cousin at the end, blonde and tall, possessing of every Knight feature—blue eyes, blonde hair, elegant features—the opposite of Damien’s dark, rugged looks. He was extremely disappointed that she was alone. Damien was a sexual beast, unsatisfied with any one girl, he’d grown up with a “harem” of them, and no woman had ever, in her life, had looked at him the way that little redhead.

  His chest cramped at the memory of her.

  No thanks. Robbing cradles wasn’t really his thing.

  “Where do you want me?” he asked Regina.

  “Well, hello to you too, dear cousin. Hey, you need to take your shirt off, just to whet the ladies appetites,” Regina said.

  Damien jerked off his black T-shirt, and the woman behind Regina gasped at the sight of his tattoo and nipple rings.

  “Ooh. Nice,” Regina said with a smile, p
ulling out a leather rope.

  “You’re going to be bound and that’s the way the lady will take you home.”

  “Am I expected to fuck them?”

  “Of course not! It’s just for fun. They’re basically paying for a date. It’s called A Date with a Millionaire, but if you want to sleep with them, you’ll have to do it at another time. The charity won’t be responsible for any lawsuits, you understand.”

  He smiled at her indulgently. He had the finest women at his disposal, perfectly formed, perfectly capable of pleasuring. He wasn’t interested in a woman desperate enough to pay for a millionaire.

  Just to think of all the effort that went into being Bentley Knight made Damien want to puke. Hell, the press itself made him want to puke, but he stopped caring what people thought of him long ago. In fact, he derived pleasure in shocking and irritating them.

  Shirtless in slacks and tied-up like some convict, Damien was summoned up to the stage. The crowd went crazy, the flashing lights on his face making him scowl. Ahh, man.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I have for you, the one and only diamond king of this continent! They say a diamond is a best friend? Well this is the father of all diamonds, a millionaire bachelor that puts the bad in bad boy, I give you Damien Knight, bound for you, and ready to make your wild dating dreams come true tonight!”

  He scowled when the crowd cheered.

  “The bidding will begin at ten thousand dollars. Do I hear twelve?”

  The screams were deafening. He felt like a stud horse. He was used to doing the selecting. Definitely not a good feeling to stand here and wait for some chick to buy you, but all right. Whatever.

  “Twelve thousand!”

  “Twelve thousand to the lady in green. Do I hear fourteen thousand?”

  Damien quickly became bored as they went back and forth between dozens of pallets. Until they reached fifty thousand, only a few remained. The most insistent was the number 10. Beginning to end, number 10 kept outbidding the others. He peered around the woman in front of her to see who she was. And scowled.

  Hair tied in a bun, face without makeup, hell, she looked like someone’s little kid. She was now competing with a blonde in a tight dress, and Damien’s narrowed gaze returned angrily to the little mousy woman, wishing she would quit.

  She was dressed plainly in a button sweater, from what he could see. She was the kind of girl that dreamed about him. The kind of girl who’d always been warned by her mama against bad boys like him. Except now that he was filthy rich, the mamas told them to snag him and let him have his fun wherever he could take it. Oh, yeah, he knew little virgins like her, aching to be deflowered by someone like him.

  She would probably dream of him tonight. And climax.

  “Eighty give thousand? Do I hear eighty five thousand?” Damien smiled sexily at the blonde, a smile that promised he would do her all the ways to Tuesday. She raised her pallet, eyes widening in excitement. Immediately, ten came up again. Damien glared at her, gritting his teeth. Was she even old enough to bid here? She looked like a coed. She instantly irritated him. Something about her made him want to growl.

  He needed a new experience to entertain his jaded libido, and this prim brown mouse with the bun and who looked like a college girl wasn’t going to do the trick.

  The blonde with the big tits might.

  The war between the two continued.

  Until they finally hit six digit numbers. “One hundred and ten thousand?” the auctioneer called, and number ten rose once more.

  Damien had never seen such a determined woman in his life. She may almost be crazy. What did she think she was going to do with him tonight?

  “One hundred and twenty thousand? Anyone?” the auctioneer insisted.

  Silence.

  The hammer fell on number ten.

  “Sold! For one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.”

  Damien cursed Bentley Knight to hell.

  Oh, lord.

  For a stunned moment, Sydney Morgan gazed at the wild panther of a man up on stage, and she wondered what in the world she was going to do with him now that she’d bought him.

  “Did you win?” one of the ladies in the row before hers turned to ask.

  Sydney sat there, her pallet trembling in her hand, still disbelieving that it was over and the whirlwind of testosterone and proud owner of a big black frown was actually hers for the evening.

  “I think I did,” she said, expelling a nervous breath. Wow. This was the most exciting thing she’d been in since…ever.

  “You know, they say he has a ring in his pecker! And that of course it’s huge…” one woman said.

  “And that he can make you come with just his tongue in your mouth!”

  Sydney’s nerves only went a little more ragged at that. But no matter how frightened she was over the possibility of having purchased too much male for the task at hand, she was at least pleased with the fact that she had won him.

  Besides, for what Sydney needed, he was rather perfect, especially if you overlooked the fact that he was incredibly, disturbingly handsome.

  He was tall. But Sydney didn’t like tall men. They made her feel small and made her crane her neck to look up at them.

  He was also dark-haired. She didn’t like that at all. Dark-haired men intimidated her, and at this point in her life, she preferred light-haired men with kind eyes.

  Black eyes? Also not her favorite. Too…she shuddered, unable to come up with a word.

  The muscles on his body… She lifted her gaze to study him again, and her stomach clenched. How did one even get those kinds of muscles? He looked like a football player, not a linebacker, but a runner or a quarterback. She could trace each of his muscles with a pen; the square of his abs, his hard arms, his pectorals.

  A tattoo curled around his bicep and slid, vine-like and dark, into his right chest, almost like a serpent curling around his right nipple. That alone made him look threatening, but when you added the glinting piercings on both of his nipples, and the scowl he’d been sending in Sydney’s direction, she should’ve been pissing in her pants.

  Except that she already knew Damien Knight had a personality that rivaled battery acid; so she hadn’t expected any less from him.

  In fact, if it weren’t for the word “asshole” which always seemed attached to him, Sydney had no doubt she would have had to go up to half a million for him.

  So thank you, Damien, for being such a dickwad and sparing my savings for the service you will soon provide.

  She drew in a deep breath, then expelled it, remembering Court Reynolds’s boyish, handsome face. He’d been her best friend since college, and Sydney had lately realized that she loved him. But she had no idea how to take their relationship to the next level, and Court, with his ADHD, was extremely socially awkward.

  It was up to Sydney to make him realize he loved her, too. And yet to do that, she needed to seduce him, and unfortunately, she hadn’t a clue where to begin.

  Brokenhearted since she was fifteen, she’d had no interest in men until…well, Court.

  So why not acquire some experience from a man who was a total womanizer and would pose zero risk whatsoever to her feelings for Court? Plus, he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.

  She figured that if she was going to take sex advice, she needed to dislike the man as much as possible to avoid any intimacy, and vice versa.

  And she didn’t remember disliking someone so much in her entire lifetime as Damien Knight. The only thing tame about Damien was his name. Yes, the man put the ‘bad’ in bad boy but he especially put the ‘ass’ in asshole.

  He probably didn’t even remember her, but she remembered every second of their previous, and often painful, encounters growing up. She especially remembered every one of his snide remarks about her hair.

  Yep. Asshole.

  He was still scowling at her.

  And Sydney scowled right back.

  “Congratulations!” a group of three young
women sidled over, gushing and tittering as Sydney stood. “Oh my god, he’s so delish, I could lick him up with a spoon. I love moody men, they get me going.”

  Sydney smiled warmly and got her pallet, thanking God that she did not. She liked men that made her feel safe and secure and made her smile, like Court. But Damien and his obvious stamina in bed and overwhelming, in-your-face sexuality was an evil necessity in this case. Who else would know more about sex than one who practically breathed it, ate it, and slept with it?

  Her heart speeded as she headed over to him.

  It felt like approaching a panther.

  She had to remind herself that his hands were tied before him, and he could not truly harm her in anyway. And yet the aura he emanated was one heady mix of raw sensuality and lethal danger.

  A strange tingle blossomed in her belly. He was scowling very hard. He didn’t seem to be happy that Sydney won. Tough luck! He could date any picking tomorrow night. Tonight, he was Sydney’s, and she was going to take every advantage of having a man with his experience at her command for a night.

  “If you’d wait here for me while I arrange payment,” she said to him, not even saying Hello, remember me? You used to call me Fire Head, “I’ll be right back to take you home.”

  By the time she returned, there were three women chatting up to him, caressing their hands up his bare, muscled torso while he just stood there, smiling indulgently. A strange sensation overcame Sydney as she watched one of them tease her fingertips across his right nipple piercing, consisting of a barbell slicing right beneath his nipple, with twin diamonds sparkling at each corner.

  Sydney held her clutch bag so hard, her hand started hurting. Reaching out to hook her finger into the leather bondage that held his thick wrists together, she didn’t even glance back as she tugged and said, “All right, say goodbye to your little friends now. Time to go.”

  He chuckled softly, surprising her, but he docilely followed.

  A healthy dose of satisfaction surged through her as all eyes across the room surveyed her in utter awe at her as she led the huge, easily two-hundred pound man—a head taller than she or more at at least six feet five—toward the door.

 
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