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  Ride Me

  Bone Daddy series, Book 1

  R.G. Alexander

  Ride Me

  Copyright 2018 by R.G. Alexander

  Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Author’s Note:

  This book was previously published in 2010 as part of the book titled Posses Me by R.G. Alexander. It has been extensively revised, edited and is significantly longer than the original version.

  Dedication

  To Cookie: Love is the reason.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Other Books in the Bone Daddy Series!

  Thanks for Reading!

  Other Books from R.G. Alexander

  About R.G. Alexander

  Chapter 1

  “Him? After all the stories we’ve heard? You know that man’s picture is under the actual definition of trouble. Which would usually mean I’d do him, and my bad taste in men is legendary.”

  Curious tourists eating one table over paused mid-conversation to glance toward Michelle. The male members of the group eyed her friend with lingering appreciation, cataloguing her dark riot of curls, beautiful brown skin and piercing eyes until Allegra’s unblinking stare shamed them back into minding their own business.

  She shouldn’t have done this in public. In her haste to explain her “plan” to her uninhibited roommate, she’d forgotten that Michelle Toussaint was the kind of woman that no man could ignore, even when she was talking with her inside voice, which wasn’t currently the case.

  Broaching the sensitive subject at lunch had been worth a shot, but deep down she’d known that even witnesses wouldn’t save her from Michelle’s vocal disapproval.

  Still, she didn’t have to be so vehement about it.

  Allegra pushed her plate away, half of the giant seafood po’boy she’d ordered left uneaten. “You’ve told me most of those stories, Chelle. So many that for a while I was thinking you had.”

  “Had what? Done him? You know that was just a figure of speech, right?” Michelle held up her hands as if warding off the evil of the idea. “He’s got some pretty wrapping and I’m not immune to the view, but he’s also carrying a Kong-sized monkey of the King variety on his back, and I have enough problems.”

  “You mean his sex thing?”

  “I mean his sex thing,” Michelle repeated dryly, studying Allegra with amused resignation. “Why did you ask my opinion? You already knew what I was going to say about this, didn’t you?”

  Allegra sipped her sweet tea with a small smirk. “How would I know that? It’s not like you’ve said the same thing every time he’s come up in conversation or anything.”

  The he in question was Celestin Dias Rousseau. It was a mouthful of a name for the mouthwatering man who owned the small coffee shop across the street from their apartment. And the plan was all about Allegra getting him into bed.

  It was more complicated and nuanced out than it sounded.

  “Oh, I know that look,” Michelle said warily. “It’s the same one you always wore right before you’d take my well-meaning advice as a challenge and do something crazy, like jumping off a campus building into an inflatable pool filled with pudding.”

  “It was only the second floor,” Allegra muttered. “And it wasn’t pudding, but I get your point.”

  Michelle raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “The only point I’m making is that I know you.”

  “You do. It’s one of the things I love most about you.” Allegra snagged a chip from Michelle’s plate before she could stop her. “It’s definitely the reason I left Houston. I wouldn’t do that just to cohabitate with any moody artist who doesn’t like to share her food and makes me sleep on the couch.”

  “The couch is a daybed.” Michelle’s arm curved around her plate protectively when Allegra reached for another chip. “And I thought you moved here to escape the overbearing white bread convention you call a family.”

  “That too.”

  If anyone ever wondered why she’d gone out into the world craving adventure, why she’d made her living visiting and writing about exciting destinations and dangerous locales, they need look no further than the Jarod family album. It was a sad, thin little tome. Filled—not with summer vacations or hilarious antics—but a composed, perfectly put together group of people wearing the same placid smile. Exactly the same. Only the dates and clothing in the pictures changed. Never the Jarods.

  Until she’d come home this last time, of course. Everything was different after that. So different, she’d started wishing for a return to the old state of repression within the first week of her rehabilitation.

  It was as if none of them were sure what to do with their newly emerging emotions. Her mother could barely look at her without tearing up, and everyone spoke to and about her in those hushed tones reserved for terminal patients and funeral homes. It was like being the unwilling hostess at her own never-ending wake.

  She could barely breathe under the weight of all that pity.

  Michelle was the only one who took her full recovery for granted, calling her once a week to get a quick physical therapy update before turning the conversation to other things. Normal, ordinary things that had nothing to do with Allegra’s life being over. It was a balm to her soul.

  She’d recognized a kindred spirit from that first day they’d moved into the same dorm room at UT. That they didn’t have much in common never mattered to either of them. All through college, they were so close daylight couldn’t separate the two. And after graduation, the connection refused to fade, no matter how many years or miles came between them.

  So when Michelle mentioned her roommate, Stacy, was moving out to accept a better paying job in North Carolina, Allegra immediately offered herself as a replacement, thrilled for the chance to start again in a new city with her best friend. She needed to get away from her well-meaning family before she forgot how to live. Forgot how much fun it could be to get into trouble.

  Rousseau was definitely trouble.

  “Let me see if I have this straight,” Michelle spoke into the silence. “Every morning since you moved here you’ve been wandering around our fair city, building up your endurance—as you should—before stopping for an iced coffee at Café Bwe.”

  Allegra leaned her chin on her hand, willing to play along. “Right so far. Please continue.”

  “The owner of said establishment gives you on
e free beverage and sets up an outside table so you don’t have to sit your limpy ass down on the curb, and you decide that not only does this negate his questionable history with women and turn him into a tragic hero instead of a horny dog, but you’d now like to break your record of avoiding men like the plague with a man who might carry it.”

  “Cut it out.” She glared, but there wasn’t much heat to it. “You have an active social life, and you don’t see me letting anyone give you any lip about it either. And this isn’t about gratitude or romanticizing one nice gesture. This is about sex, and me wanting to have it with someone I’m actually attracted to.”

  Which for her was kind of a first. She had no illusions that she was any kind of seducer of men. There was a reason all of her previous sexual partners had been friends who happened to be available and amenable at the right time. It wasn’t the stuff fantasies were made of, but there was something to be said for satisfying a natural urge without excessive drama or complications.

  That makes you sound just like your parents.

  If it did, then she was breaking out of the familial mold now with a vengeance. Her feelings for Rousseau were not remotely friendly or simple. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d become something of an obsession for her, and it didn’t have anything to do with free coffee and a chair.

  The first time she’d seen him had been after one of her morning walks—her favorite part of the day, despite her physical discomfort. Mornings had their own special rhythm in New Orleans, giving her a glimpse behind the glitter and beads to see the community that actually made the magic happen.

  Workers unloaded trucks to replenish the bars and restaurants that had been drained dry the night before. Artists, psychics, and performers staked out their places on the sidewalk and in Jackson square, sharing breakfast and gossip as they readied themselves for the crowds that were their bread and butter. Thankfully, those crowds had finally started coming back after Katrina.

  That particular morning, Allegra had pushed too hard. She’d ended her walk leaning heavily on her cane, her skin covered in sweat as if she’d run a marathon instead of strolling a few simple blocks. She hated her body in that moment. The weakness of it. She could see the damn apartment, and all she had to do was cross the narrow street and climb one steep flight of stairs.

  It might as well have been Mount Everest.

  She’d lowered herself carefully onto the curb in front of a shop that smelled of espresso beans and chocolate, thinking it was as good a place to live as any. All she needed was a cold drink and a pillow, and she’d pay whatever rate curbs were going for these days.

  “You look thirsty. How about an iced coffee?”

  The voice that licked down her spine made her think of late nights and hot, sweaty sex. Her mouth had gone dry and her hibernating libido had instantly gone on red alert despite her aches and pains. She was almost afraid to turn around, sure no man could live up to the expectations that voice engendered.

  “Don’t lie to a dying woman.”

  “I never lie about coffee.”

  His laugh had her shielding her eyes with her hand so she could see him better in the bright morning light, and that’s when she got her first good look.

  A warrior god. That was the image that popped into her head. In a flash, she’d mentally stripped him of his white pants and stained apron, redressing him in leather and a sword.

  Some part of her knew the tall, muscular man wouldn’t appreciate being ogled, but there was no way he wasn’t used to it by now. How could anyone who looked like that not be at least a little cocky? Instead, his expression was hesitant. Kind, but almost shy. It was so unexpected that Allegra found herself giving him a second, closer look.

  She managed the slightly less obvious inspection as he crouched down next to her and offered the drink. She introduced herself and gratefully accepted the coffee while studying the man.

  His waist-length dreadlocks, facial hair and tattoos couldn’t hide his warm expression, heavy-lidded hazel eyes and full, sensual lips, though she sensed that was his intention. The ink and piercings said, “Keep your distance.” But that was the only thing about him that did.

  He had the kind of charisma Allegra usually associated with fictional vampires. Graceful, broody and incredibly complicated. She wasn’t usually into angst, but she’d decided in that moment that she wouldn’t mind a bite or two. Not if it came from him.

  Since vampires didn’t actually exist, she was forced to wonder what his real reasons were for attempting to bury his light under a bushel. It was a mystery. He was a challenge. And it wasn’t in her DNA to be able to resist either.

  Rousseau didn’t seem to mind all the staring, but his expression became harder to read as he watched her drink and responded to her nervous small talk about the weather and her recent move to town. It was as if something about her had surprised and confused him, and he was afraid to look away in case she disappeared.

  She was sure her expression mirrored his, since she felt the same. She was also positive he’d been planning to ask her for her number. Or ask her out to dinner. She could practically see the questions buzzing around in the air between them.

  But then something had changed. No matter how many times she’d gone over it in her head she couldn’t figure out what had spooked him, but something definitely had. His eyes had flickered dangerously and he’d mumbled some excuse about customers and her needing to get out of the heat before he stood and turned abruptly, disappearing into his shop while she was left in shock on the curb.

  The next day she’d almost been afraid to walk by the café, uncertain of her welcome, but there’d been a small table and chair beside the café with a neatly written placard that read, Reserved for Allegra.

  Well, she couldn’t exactly turn that down, could she?

  Unfortunately, the olive branch of a table was as far as she’d gotten with Rousseau. Six long weeks of shy hellos and free coffee, followed by the rapid disappearances that were really starting to tick her off.

  She knew he watched her, could feel it like a physical caress each time, but he never took things to the next level. With her, anyway. And she…well, she had her own confidence issues that had stopped her from facing the problem head on.

  She’d never been so irritated, caffeinated or sexually frustrated in her life. It was a volatile combination. Something had to give.

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

  Allegra blinked innocently. “If it was about why I shouldn’t follow through on my plan? Probably not.”

  “Allegra.”

  “Michelle,” she mimicked, a gentle smile on her lips. “I thought you agreed I needed to take some chances again. To jump off a few new cliffs, preferably not into pudding.”

  “Baby cliffs, hon.” She sighed when Allegra raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry. It’s your decision, of course, and maybe if I hadn’t seen Stacy make such a fool of herself over him, I’d be all about this plan of yours. Unfortunately, I had a front row seat to the crazy show.”

  Allegra knew the roommate’s story well. “You said she followed him around like a groupie?”

  Like me?

  “Groupie is such a tame word,” Michelle huffed. “I never would have guessed she had it in her, but that girl did everything short of throwing herself on his counter and spreading her legs. When she finally crossed that line as well, he took her up on her offer.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “You know, he might not be the stud the gossips make him out to be. I mean, if he was, would she really leave the state less than a week after landing him?”

  “She would for the job of her dreams.”

  They’d both heard the talk. Allegra had gotten her fill of it over the last few weeks from the morning crowd of women who spoke in obnoxiously loud whispers about him as they walked by her table.

  They would say he knew the right words to heal, that his touch could melt even the coldest heart. And sex with him? Sex with him was a blessi
ng from Marie Laveau herself. According to them, he was the love doctor of the Big Easy.

  Bone Daddy.

  That’s what they called him. A walking, talking, well-hung pleasure factory who, with a few easy orgasms, could bring you whatever your heart desired. Your boyfriend would propose, your boss would give you a raise. Rumor had it he could even heal your scars, inside and out. If you could satisfy his lust.

  With her, Rousseau was solicitous but shy, and always respectful. But if all these women were to be believed, she was in the minority. She’d think she wasn’t his type, except she swore that when he looked her way, she saw a desire in his eyes that matched her own.

  Her feelings were too intense to be one-sided. They had to be.

  “Those were her buzz words. Dream job. Once in a lifetime. Can’t turn it down.” Michelle rolled her eyes. “I know what they—” She cut herself off, eyes wide and worried. “Tell me this isn’t about what they say, Allegra. That you’re not starting to believe he can actually heal anything but abstinence.”

  Allegra saw her gaze drop unconsciously to the cane currently hooked to the back of her chair and knew that if she actually had hackles, they’d be rising. “I’m not an idiot, Chelle. Or a child. I’m not looking for a cure, but I’m sick and tired of letting my problems hold me back. I used to be fearless.”

  Her throat tightened and she blinked rapidly. “I know it’s a crazy idea. He’s got too many women waiting for their turn for me to have a chance at getting his attention anyway.”

  Then why do you still want it so much?

  Michelle reached for her hand. “Allegra, if you went after him none of those women would matter. I know you, remember? I don’t doubt your skill for a minute. But maybe we can try one of those baby cliffs to start? What if you let me introduce you to one of the teachers from my school? There are a few who are pretty damn easy on the eyes. That way you could have your fun and be safe at the same time. Trust me, danger is not as sexy as it sounds.”