Bad Boy's Touch Read online

  Bad Boy’s Touch

  Jessa James

  Bad Boy’s Touch: Copyright © 2021 by Jessa James

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  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

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  Published by Jessa James

  James, Jessa

  Bad Boy’s Touch

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  Cover design copyright 2021 by Jessa James, Author

  Images/Photo Credit: Deposit photos: Ensuper, fxquadro

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  Publisher’s Note:

  This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

  This book has been previously published.

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  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

  Bad Boy’s Bonus!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

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  Also by Jessa James

  About the Author

  1

  Walker Roman cocked a dark eyebrow, his deep hazel eyes gliding over the dingy strip joint. It was his fellow ex-SEAL Carter’s bachelor party, and so he'd allowed himself to be dragged here.

  Still, that was no reason not to scope the place out, figure out where the exits were. Old habits died hard, apparently. He was always acutely aware of what was happening around him.

  He sighed, not as excited about the strip club as his friends seemed. Despite the pounding music and cheers of the bachelor party, Walker couldn't help but hear Sawyer’s voice rattling around in his head.

  ‘Come on, Walker. Just take Shelby out for dinner. You two would be so good together.’ He took a long sip of his beer, draining the last of it in the one gulp. ‘It’s been five years, Shorty.’

  Walker rolled his eyes. Sawyer liked to tease him about being a year younger, so his brother called him 'Shorty.' It figured that even in Walker's memory, Sawyer was a pain in the ass.

  He watched the blonde on stage, swaying on her platform heels. She wore nothing but a gold bikini, but it did nothing for him. These kinds of places never had anything that interested Walker.

  As though playing a tape, Colt’s voice echoed in Walker's head next.

  ‘Man, if someone had told me a year ago you’d be the last single Roman standing, I’d have laughed them all the way to the next county. It’s been long enough, Walker. Just give Shelby a go, you know she’s up for it!’

  Colt's eyes, nearly identical to Walker’s own, had twinkled playfully as he’d said it. Go figure. The kid was always up to something in that chaotic head of his. Though, at twenty-eight, calling him ‘kid’ always gave him pause nowadays.

  Walker sighed and ran his callused hand over the short spikes of his brown hair. He knew that there were more memories to come. There always were.

  The next, most commanding, voice rang through his head.

  ‘It’s time to settle down, son. You’re nearly thirty god damn years old!’

  Well, that was the kindest thing his father had to say on the topic. Walker didn’t have any intention of dwelling on the rest of it.

  He and his brothers had taken to referring to their father as The Colonel back when they were kids. The Colonel had been pressuring him for much longer than his brothers had been. Hell, he was pretty sure The Colonel had pressured his brothers into giving him shit about it.

  He had no doubt that his brothers wanted him to be happy. They’d been telling him it was time to move on for years now. Recently, though, they’d been almost as pushy as The Colonel himself.

  They always joked that he was ‘the smart one’ out of the three. As the smart one, it didn’t take much to make the leap that their father was leading the proverbial charge. The Colonel was turning up the pressure on Colt and Sawyer to do the same.

  “Roman! Man, come get a dance!”

  A drunken Carter sank into the seat beside him. Walker looked over at him. Carter was nodding toward where the rest of his old unit and others at the bachelor party were currently being treated to lap dances. The dancers were jaded-looking girls, grinding their spandex-clad bodies against them.

  “Nah, thanks man.” His Southern Louisiana twang was evident from the very first syllable that he spoke. “Maybe later though, okay?”

  Carter shrugged, heaved himself out of his seat and staggered back over to his party. Walker watched him go, wondering what it would take to get his mojo back on track.

  Sawyer was right; it had been years.

  A couple of weeks ago, Colonel Arlo Montgomery Roman had taken another run at him. The encounter between them had blown up in spectacular fashion. As always, Walker had sat there stoically and taken his father’s attempt of control and manipulation without a word.

  He’d learned early on that the only way to get the old man to shut up was not to engage him. Let him rant, let him rave. Get it out and leave. The more you tried to argue, the longer you had to be in his wretched company. Unfortunately, this approach also brought out the worst in dear old dad. Somehow though, that only made it so much more gratifying.

  His strong jaw twitched as his last encounter with The Colonel flashed in his mind. There’d been the usual bout of abuse slung at him. Then his father had dug into the pocket of his starched jeans and dropped Walker’s mother’s ring into his lap. Walker had stared at The Colonel in surprise. The Colonel had told him that the point was to use it -- and soon -- or else.

  Walker didn’t take shit from anyone, not even his brothers. He’d been forced to retire from active duty as a SEAL because of some bullshit politics he didn’t care to think about. Since then, he didn't have patience for nonsense anymore.

  At twenty-nine, with a successful career in satellite recruiting for the Navy, there wasn’t much The Colonel could do to Walker. Still, he knew better than to take the barely veiled threat idly.

  He’d considered taking his brothers’ advice. He'd thought about calling up Shelby. They were right, she was hot. A blonde girl with cornflower blue eyes and a big personality whom he had known forever. What was the downside?

  Shelby had been coming onto him for years. The rumors around town had them seconds away from getting hitched.

  Walker frowned to himself. The thought of eventually offering his mother’s ring to Shelby just didn’t feel right. He had no idea why, he just wasn’t into it.

  Movement from the corner caught Walker’s eye. He watched a
girl shimmying up to him, a pale redhead.

  He looked at her, head to toe. She was fucking hot.

  Strippers weren’t usually his thing, he’d never needed to pay for it when he wanted it. But this one? You’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind for her not to be your thing.

  She was sexy as sin. Her fiery red hair swung across her back as she approached him. Her petite hips, encased in supple black leather, rolled in time to the seductive rhythm of the music thumping in the club.

  “Well hey there, sugar,” she purred in a silky Southern drawl. “What’s a handsome man like yourself doing all by your lonesome in a corner?”

  He wasn't sure what to say. Her full red lips curled up in an alluring smile as she sat down beside him. She wore a little black dress, not a strap in sight. Their bodies pressed close together, the tops of her creamy breasts inches away from his face.

  “Well?” she asked as she continued rocking her hips, not grinding like the others, but just sort of swaying.

  “I’m enjoying my beer and watching my friends make fools of themselves.”

  He shrugged, noticing the bouncer over her narrow shoulder. He was standing in a darkened corner, but he was watching them closely.

  Her emerald eyes, visible now that she was literally on top of him, widened at his answer.

  “Making fools of themselves? How is that?” Something flashed behind her bright eyes, and she smiled.

  Why had he even noticed that? Snap out of it, Roman. She doesn’t care what you think. You don’t care what she thinks. She’s a waitress trying to earn her living. She isn’t worried about you.

  “Drooling all over strange women when they’ve got perfectly fine wives and fiancées and girlfriends at home. That's all.”

  He found himself talking anyway, trying to ignore the strawberry scent he got a whiff of when she shook her head.

  “Aw, they’re just trying to show your friends a good time, honey. You can call me Doll. I'll take care of drinks and get you guys some more dancers, if you want."

  Walker looked at her. He really did want her company, which surprised him.

  "Sure," he said, trying not to stare at her tits.

  "Don’t worry about it! Relax a little. Have a good time!”

  “Oh, I’m not worried, honey,” he smirked. “And I’m going to have a good time jibing their horny asses about it tomorrow when they’re hungover as all hell.”

  She shot him a smile, a real smile, he thought. “And why would you do that? It’s a bachelor party, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like it’s our first time on Bourbon Street. Not even our first bachelor party.”

  His father’s words jumped into his head unbidden. ‘You’re nearly thirty god damn years old, grow the fuck up. She’s not coming back, Walker. Be a man and move on! You didn’t see me moping around for more than a couple of months when your mother died! And I had three sons with the woman.’

  He winced at the memory, and a puzzled look settled in her eyes as she stopped leaning in.

  “Did I hurt you?” she gasped. “I’m so sor--"

  “No!” He cut her off quickly. “It’s not you. I, uh, just remembered something unpleasant that I have to do tomorrow.”

  Well, it was half true. He had remembered something unpleasant.

  A relieved look replaced the puzzled one as she started moving once more, the smile back on her face.

  “Hey, why’d you get the hottest one?” George, one of Carter’s friends, bellowed as he stumbled over to them. He pulled her off of her seat in Walker's lap and roughly crashed her small body to his flabby frame.

  Walker was on his feet in an instant. The veins in his neck bulged, and his strong arms swept her gently away from George. In the same moment he pinned George’s bulky body against the wall, his free hand pushing tightly against George’s throat.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing treating a lady that way?” he growled.

  George’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, his eyes glazed and unfocused. He tried to fight against Walker's grip, but quickly realized that he wasn’t going to escape. He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender instead.

  “She’s a fucking stripper, man, chill out! It’s what they’re here for, it’s what they do, bro!”

  Yeah... No. Wrong move, Walker thought as barely controlled rage unfurled in his stomach. No one harmed a woman while he was watching, and got away with it.

  He quickly considered his options. He was ready to knock George out in a punch that would have him seeing cartoon stars for a week, when suddenly Ace and Ronan were on him.

  “Hey now,” he heard Ace’s low voice behind him. “He’s drunk, Roman. Leave him be.”

  Ace and Ronan had also been in his unit back in Afghanistan. They knew him well enough to know that he did not take women being mistreated lightly. Any woman. It was the one thing that made his usually stoic veneer not just crack, but burst open in a ball of flames.

  “Enough!” a gravelly, wheezy voice insisted from behind them. “Get them out of here! Now!”

  A pudgy, red-faced man with mottled skin and an ill-fitted suit walked into Walker’s field of vision, wagging a finger at the bouncer.

  “I never want to see any of your faces in here again!” His voice grew shrill as he stomped his foot.

  Since when do adult men stomp their feet? Walker thought as he shook Ace and Ronan off and pushed through the crowd toward the exit.

  Hoots of laughter filled the air as the rest of the party stumbled onto the sidewalk to wait for the bus that was carting them around for the evening. George huffed as the guys complimented Walker on ‘not having lost his edge’ and slapped him on the back.

  “You know,” Ronan interjected. “You should go give that girl your number. Maybe you can give her something else later!”

  He made rude gestures as he winked at Walker.

  “Yeah, Roman,” Ace joked. “You defended her honor and shit!”

  Almost immediately, someone else piped up. “Yeah, Roman! Give it to her!”

  More laughter before someone started a chant of ‘Give It To Her, Give It To Her!' just as the bus pulled up.

  Carter was doubled over with laughter as they tried to hustle his drunk ass onto the bus.

  “Nah ah,” Carter drawled, still shaking with laughter. He faced Walker and stubbornly refused to move. “I ain’t going nowhere until you give that girl your number, Roman!”

  Walker quickly assessed the situation. He came to the conclusion that the most efficient solution was to find the girl, give her a number, and get on with the night.

  “Yeah, sure! Why not?” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows at the boys for good measure.

  He turned on his heel and headed off to find her. He had absolutely no intention of giving her his actual number. It wasn’t like she’d call anyway. All in all it was a stupid idea cooked up in a drunken mind.

  He wondered for a second whether one of his brothers had gotten to his old unit, and whispered the suggestion. He dismissed it almost immediately as bullshit, though. His brothers had never met his Navy buddies, and neither of his brothers would have stooped that low.

  Obviously, he couldn’t just stroll back in through the front entrance. They'd just been kicked out in spectacular fashion. But he’d spotted a back entrance earlier while he was using the restroom. He walked around the building now, intending to use it to get back inside.

  He rounded the corner to the back of the building when he heard the sound of feet scuffing against the pavement. It was dark, dark enough that he had a hard time seeing. He saw someone being slammed against the dumpster, and that someone had gorgeous red hair.

  “You fucking whore,” a low voice seethed. “You belong to me! You understand? You dance for the perverted lowlifes inside, but you do not laugh! You do not flirt! And you definitely do not try to fucking charm them!”

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness in time to realize that the speaker was the burly bouncer fr
om inside. The target was the flame-haired stripper.

  His vision blurred with flashes of red as he started to comprehend what was happening. He launched himself at the bouncer and the man’s jaw connected with Walker’s fist with a satisfying crack.

  Without further thought, he scooped the girl up in his arms. He grabbed the tattered pink backpack that had been lying next to the dumpster and carried her to the front of the building. She leaned into him, her small body wracked with sobs.

  She felt so small in his arms, so soft. He held her tighter and whispered what he hoped were soothing words into her hair.

  The guys whistled and cheered as he came into view with her cradled in his arms. But they quieted almost immediately when they saw the expression on his face.

  “You go on the next bar,” he grunted. “I’ll see you later.”

  His tone left no room for argument, and no one even tried. One by one, they filed onto the bus. Carter was the last to board. Being the guy that he was, even drunk as skunk at his own bachelor party, he paused on the step and turned back to Walker.

  “She gon’ be okay, Roman? You need any help?”

  Not one to give flippant answers to anything, Walker considered the question before nodding to Carter.

  “You go ahead man, enjoy your night. We’ll be okay. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  He’d set the girl down by now, but kept her closely tucked to his side. He supported her sagging, shocked weight with his muscled arm.