Dirty talk a bad boy rom.., p.1
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       Dirty Talk: A Bad Boy Romance (Bluefield Bad Boys Book 2), p.1

           Tess Oliver
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Dirty Talk: A Bad Boy Romance (Bluefield Bad Boys Book 2)

  Dirty Talk

  Bluefield Bad Boys #2

  Tess Oliver

  Dirty Talk

  Copyright© 2016 by Tess Oliver

  Cover Model: Tyler Halligan

  Cover Photographer: FuriousFotog

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  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.

  Table of 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

  chapter 17

  chapter 18

  chapter 19

  chapter 20

  chapter 21

  chapter 22

  chapter 23

  chapter 24

  chapter 25

  chapter 26

  chapter 27

  chapter 28

  chapter 29

  chapter 30

  chapter 31

  chapter 32

  chapter 33

  chapter 34

  chapter 35

  chapter 36

  chapter 37

  chapter 38

  chapter 39

  Tess Oliver

  Chapter 1


  She glanced at the time on her cell phone just before dropping it on the coffee table.

  I pulled my mouth from her neck. “Am I keeping you from something?”

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her round, naked tits against my chest. “Only from that mind-bending orgasm I’ve been thinking about since I first saw you leaning against the bar.” She followed with a nervous laugh, assuring me she was up to something. But I was hard as rock, so I blew it off.

  I reached back and yanked off my shirt.

  She smiled appreciatively. “Damn, that’s even better than I imagined.”

  “Yeah?” I smoothed my hand down her back and shoved my hand under her panties to take hold of her ass. “You were imagining?”

  “Heck yeah.” Her fingers slid over the ink on my chest. “Nearly came just watching you drink your beer.” Her hand slid up and over my shoulder and down along my bicep. “Damn, you are something, Tony.”

  “Tommy,” I corrected.


  I pushed her panties down. “Doesn’t matter. Call me whatever the fuck you want, sweetheart.” She’d at least remembered the first letter of my name. I couldn’t even remember that. Sweetheart was my default name, and it always worked pretty damn well.

  As my hands wrapped around her ass she took another glimpse at her phone on the table.

  “Shit, sweetie, either you’ve got a short attention span or you just don’t want this much.”

  She reached for the button on my fly. “Oh, I want it badly.” She pushed her mouth against mine. “And I like it fast, hard and rough.” She slid her hand down my pants and her fingers wrapped around my cock.

  Car headlights lit up the small front room. A shiver went through her. It could have been fear, but from the look on her face, it was thrill. Her pink lips formed a shocked O, but it was practiced. “Oops, my boyfriend is home.”

  I took hold of her wrist and pulled her hand from my pants. “So, when you said let’s go back to my place, you meant our place, yours and your boyfriend’s?”

  She bit her lip and batted her lashes at me.

  I snatched my shirt off the couch. “You’re either one of those fucking nutjobs who likes to make her boyfriend jealous and likes to see men fight over her, or your boyfriend is one of those freaks who likes to watch you get off with someone else.”

  “I’m not a nutjob. You were just really hot, and I wanted you. Didn’t expect him home so soon.”

  “Right. There are a few things in life I’ll fight for, sweetheart, but you’re not one of them.” I yanked on my shirt and pointed toward the hallway. “A back room window?”

  She waved her hand angrily that direction. A car door slammed out front as I headed toward the dark hall.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t stay and fight. Roger gets as angry as a fucking bull when he’s jealous,” she barked at my back.

  I shook my head and stopped to glance back at her. “No, sweetheart, even with a crazy bitch like you as a girlfriend, he’s the lucky one tonight.”

  I managed to kick two pieces of furniture in the dark, cluttered bedroom as I made my way to the window. I was pissed enough to throw my fist through the glass. I needed to get out of this cycle of bullshit, never knowing who I was fucking or giving a damn about knowing. Like my buddy, Kellan, liked to remind me, one of these days the cops were going to find me with my pants down and my head shot clear through by an angry husband’s rifle. Of course, it was easy for Kellan to talk. He had his one true love and soul mate tucked in next to him every night. My soul mate, well, she was a different matter altogether. Especially since the connection was only coming from one direction. Mine.

  I pounded the corners of the stuck window. The sound of the front door opening followed me out into the small patch of weeds pretending to be a backyard. The spring night air was cool and thick with the scent of the hamburger stand just two blocks away. A burger might just have been the best way to end the crappy night.

  I pulled myself up and over the brick wall and stomped across the front yard to my truck.

  As I pulled away from the curb, a man, Roger apparently, stepped out onto the porch. Whatever it was they were into, I wasn’t joining in the fun. I pulled out my phone and dialed Dawson.

  “Hey, Dawz, where are you at? You still at the bar?”

  “Nah, I’m tired. I’m heading home. What happened to the slinky little brunette you walked out of here with? Or did you do her that fast, minute man?”

  “She wanted something more than a fuck, but I didn’t feel like sticking around to find out what she had in mind.”

  “Too bad. Might have been something fun.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. I’m going to Harry’s Burgers. Thought you might want one too.”

  “I’m already a good five miles out of the city. See you at home.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I’ll skip it too and just head to the highway. Later.”

  Chapter 2


  I dropped my empty yogurt container into the trash and went to the sink to wash my hands. The emergency room had been a full blown circus all night, but I’d taken advantage of a small lull in the activity just long enough to slurp down a blueberry yogurt and iced tea.

  I took a deep breath and geared myself up for more drama as I opened the break room door. Gary, or Dr. Hughes, as I referred to him when we were here at the hospital and not out on a date, was just coming around the corner. He looked weary and grumpy and offered no smile.

  “There you are, Nurse Sullivan.” I hated when he said it so coldly, as if we were truly just professional coworkers. It was a necessity of course, in the hospital, but just once I would have loved for him to trap me in a quiet corner or utility c
loset for a secret kiss or quick round of dirty talk. Actually, just once I’d like him to use a little dirty talk even if it wasn’t in a secret corner.

  “Yes, Dr. Hughes?” I countered with my own steely tone.

  “The police need to ask you a few questions since you were the first to attend the gunshot victim.”

  “Yes, Doctor. Right away.”

  Gary glanced back to make sure we were alone. In a way, the pretense was silly. A busy hospital was just like a busy office, and while we didn’t have a water cooler to gossip around, there were still plenty of rumors flying. And two staff members dating was always a popular topic. It only took a few times of us driving in together to sound the alarm on our relationship, if that was what we had. I wasn’t completely sure. I’d always expected a real relationship to feel much more solid.

  Gary turned back to me. He had dark brown eyes and an intense gaze. Sometimes too intense. “Are you coming over after your shift? Thought maybe we could cook up some eggs.”

  I held back a grin. It had been a long, stressful shift, and it was only half over. I was feeling more than giddy from exhaustion, and I was bored of acting serious. “Thought we could cook some eggs?” I repeated. “Thought maybe we could rip off each other’s clothes sounds more fun.”

  “With a night like this, I doubt either of us will have the energy.”

  It was hard not to look completely disappointed at his response. It would have been nice to have him answer back with something wild and unexpected. But it was never that way with Gary. Predictability was in his genes.

  “My shift is longer than yours. My car is acting up. I took the bus in from Bluefield, so I won’t have any way to get to your place.”

  “You could take the bus. It’s only ten miles.”

  A perfect answer would have been I’ll come pick you up because I don’t want you riding the public bus at four in the morning. Doctor or not, he was anything but perfect. He seemed to sense my disappointment. Of course, my shoulders collapsing and my frown probably made that easy.

  “What’s wrong, Andi?”

  “Nothing. I better not keep the police waiting.”

  I made a point of brushing his hand as I walked past, but he made no attempt to touch me. I hadn’t expected him to, but it was a letdown nonetheless.

  Taking himself too seriously was one of Gary’s other flaws. But as my older sister, Aubrey, liked to remind me, flaws could be overlooked when the man in question was a doctor. I still hadn’t decided if she was right. Both Aubrey and my other sister, Megan, had moved to California in hopes of meeting their true loves. So far, no luck. And in their quest for soul mates, they’d left me behind in Bluefield with my twin brother, Dawson, who was far too busy working and playing to have time for his womb mate. Then, of course, there were our parents, a mismatched duo if there ever was one. Dad was cold, hard and unyielding like flint and Mom was soft and malleable like wet clay. It worked for them, but twenty-five years under my dad’s iron fist was growing tiresome. Unfortunately, an affordable apartment in the city, away from the coal dusted air of Bluefield, was hard to find.

  Police officers with their gray uniforms, black belts and gun holsters always looked so starkly out of place in a sea of white coats. Officer Parker and his new partner, a young woman rookie whose name I hadn’t remembered yet, were standing at the check-in desk.

  “Officer Parker, you had some questions?”

  He turned to me. “Yes, Nurse Sullivan. I understand you were the first person on the scene when the gunshot victim stumbled through the doors.”

  “Yes. He’d been shot in the shoulder. He’s in surgery right now.”

  “Did anyone walk in with him?” He pulled out his notepad.

  “Yes, a young woman, maybe twenty. She had long brown hair and a long floral tattoo running along her—” I stopped and rubbed my chin. “Left arm. It was on her left arm. I think he called her Rose or something like that. He wasn’t very coherent at the time. She disappeared before we could take any information from her. Like she was running away from something.”

  He finished with his notes. “Looks like some kind of a love triangle thing. Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”


  I headed back into the triage area to see what new horrors had arrived on this endless night. Nurse Rathford, a rather charmless and often bitchy coworker, who spent far too much time in other people’s business, turned the corner with me. She was two years older than me, but she rarely acted her age. I was no psychiatrist, but I would have bet a year’s salary that the woman suffered from multiple personalities, one, a silly, ridiculous fifteen-year-old and, one, a grouchy old woman who very closely resembled my nosy, seventy-year-old neighbor, Mildred. At the moment, it seemed her Mildred personality was shining through.

  And, it seemed there would be no way to avoid her in the narrow corridor.

  “I see your hunky doctor is out there conversing with that raven-haired cardiac specialist. They called her in to check on that young girl with the worrisome EKG. That bombshell doctor sure is something strutting around in those three inch designer heels. Seems Dr. Hughes is always anxious to talk to her.”

  I glanced at her with raised brows. “Damn, Rhonda, you must be bored. You’re trying to stir up trouble even in the midst of what I consider a pretty nightmarish shift. Dr. Hughes was the admitting physician for that patient. It makes sense the cardiologist would need to talk to him.”

  She took my arm to stop my progress to triage and inclined her head back the way we’d come. I sighed loudly, to assure her I was irritated, but took a glance toward the hub of the patient care center. My long sigh stopped short. Gary, or as Rhonda had called him, my hunky doctor, was, indeed, deep in a conversation with the extremely attractive cardiac doctor. That would have been completely normal except that he was laughing heartily at something she’d said. Her overly white teeth sparkled almost blue under the florescent lights as she smiled back at him.

  “Seems sort of unlikely that they’re having a good laugh about a teenager with a bad heart.” Rhonda’s snide comment flicked off the side of my face.

  “Don’t you have something to do, Mildred?”

  Rhonda’s earlier smug grin faded to open-mouthed confusion as I turned and continued on my path to triage.

  Chapter 3


  I slowed my speed. Twice, the truck had lost traction on the slick road. It was barely spring, and the earlier rainstorm had left puddles that had hardened to black ice. Ice was the enemy on a dark road just like it had been on that terrible day when my dad slipped and broke his neck. I had been nibbling on my two-day old birthday cake, the one my mom had decorated with plastic drag racing cars, when I heard my dad yell. I raced outside and ice skated on bare feet over a strip of slick ice to the wood pile. My dad was lying there still as stone. His head was at an angle that didn’t look right for the position of his body. I sank to my knees and stayed with him while my mom called the ambulance. It had taken what seemed like years for the paramedics to arrive. My bare feet had turned blue, and I was sure they would snap off if I stood up. My teeth had clacked together so wildly, I hadn’t heard the sirens as they reached the house. I was only ten at the time, but I knew that I was looking at a dead man. He looked so pale and lifeless that I had almost convinced myself that it wasn’t him, that some stranger had broken his neck on our wood pile. It was that one fucked-up, surreal moment in time that changed my life forever. I went from a happy, carefree semi-troublemaker, to a completely out of control teenager with a temper and a right hook that’d nearly landed me in juvenile detention. But adulthood and a job at the same mine where my dad had worked had brought me back to Earth some. Unfortunately, tonight had ended with me realizing just how far I still had to go.

  An eighteen wheeler was chortling along, slow and clumsy, in front of me like an elephant with arthritis. On an ice free night, I would have passed the truck, but with the way my luck had gone tonight, I was sure I
’d hit a patch of ice on my way around the semi. So I cranked the music and slumped back against the driver’s seat to get ready for a long slog home.

  I reached up to the rearview mirror to tilt it away from the two overly bright headlights behind me. My eyes glanced up to the reflection just as the car swerved toward the center line. The driver seemed to be considering passing both me and the eighteen wheeler.

  “Knucklehead,” I muttered as the small sedan slid over the center line and zipped up next to me. I caught a quick glimpse of the driver, a youngish woman who was laughing and talking with the woman sitting in the passenger seat.

  I slowed so she could pass me easily. It was obvious she had no clue about the dangers of black ice. Headlights glowed in the opposite direction, and I backed off more to allow her to pull in between the semi and my truck.

  Her thin hand waved a thank you through the back window. She’d risked life and limb just to get ten feet farther.

  My hope that she’d give up the quest to go faster was smashed when she once again coasted toward the center line. Seeing around an eighteen wheeler took a little more effort. The driver opened the window and leaned her head out to check for oncoming traffic. I dropped back more, suddenly getting the sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to end well. The opposite lane was clear. Water from the road sprayed out like cold misty feathers as her tires spun faster, pelting my windshield with heavy drops.

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