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Authors: Seraphina Donavan,Wicked Muse

Bad Girl Lessons

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Bad Girl Lessons

by Seraphina Donavan







Copyright © 2012 Seraphina Donavan
This material may not be duplicated or distributed to others
without express permission of the author. E-books are nontransferable
and cannot be sold, shared or given away, as those actions are copyright
infringement. This book is a work of fiction and any similarity to persons
living or dead, or events real or fictional, is purely coincidental.







Dedication To my wonderful friends who support me, cheer me on, and kick my ass when needed. Thank you. And you know who you are.









Chapter One

Evangeline Harper sat on the dock, her wedding gown bunched around her knees and her feet trailing in the water. From a distance she could hear the blaring sound of the Alman Brothers. The bluesy guitar wailed in the hot summer afternoon from the small Ipod dock perched on the counter of the small bar. From the back of the open air bar, she could hear a deep voice singing along. Evie tensed as the voice grew closer. She didn’t want to see anyone, but more specifically, she didn’t want anyone to see her. She’d left the country club and the chaos and was using the dock to hide out. But as the owner of the voice rounded the bend, Evie relaxed somewhat. It was Jackson Cope, of course, local football hero made good and the bad boy every woman wanted to tame. He owned the small Marina and bar that butted up to the country club and was the thorn in it’s proverbial side. She wasn’t sure the place was ever open, but it was just tacky enough to make everyone mad, and therefore he refused to sell.

In deference to the heat, he’d discarded his shirt and wore only a pair of low slung jeans. Sweat glistened on the rippling muscles across his broad, toned back as he worked, stacking boxes of recently delivered supplies. As if he’d suddenly become aware of eyes upon him, he turned to look at her. The light dusting of golden hair on his chest was darkened to bronze by the light sheen of sweat on his skin. Every muscle was perfectly defined, rippling powerfully beneath sun-kissed skin. His too long hair had fallen forward into his eyes and he pushed it back, leaving a streak of dirt on his forehead. Somehow, it only made him more appealing. His jade green eyes narrowed as he looked at her and his lips, normally curved into a seductive grin, firmed into a thin line.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through her. The question might have been rude, but the tone was simply puzzled.

“That’s a rude question. Aren’t you supposed to be charming or something?” Evie demanded. They’d been friends at one point and she’d harbored a painful crush on him for the better part of her adolescence, but over the last few years, with her engagement to Trevor, Jackson had become increasingly distant with her. While he’d certainly never paid the kind of attention to her that he did to other women in town, he’d never been downright rude.

“The bar’s closed until seven...and you’re a little overdressed for it, anyway,” he said, opening a bottle of beer.

“I’m not here for the bar. I’m here to sit on this dock, out of sight of everyone else, and hide until the last guests have gone home,” she said. Her lip trembled a bit, but she managed to keep her voice from breaking too badly.

Jackson knew that he was being an ass. Still, Evie Harper rubbed him the wrong way. Mostly, because he wanted to rub her in the right ones. She was gorgeous, with her long, dark hair and exaggerated curves. He’d never had a type when it came to women. He loved them all, but his reaction to Evie had always resulted in frustration and not a little disappointment. It hadn’t helped that she’d been prepared to marry his cousin, Trevor Dupree, who happened to be the biggest jackass in three counties, if not all of Mississippi.

“So aren’t you supposed to be getting married or something?”

“No... I generally sit around on half rotten boat docks in six thousand dollar satin dresses. I like to live dangerously,” she replied.

Her snippy response made him smile. If she was fighting mad, at least she wouldn’t be a crying mess. Lord, he hoped. He couldn’t take a crying woman. “Reel in the attitude, chickpea. Since it’s my dock you’re sitting on, I’m entitled to know whether or not an angry, jilted groom is going to show up here and cause problems.”

“No. Trevor most assuredly will not show up and cause problems. Showing up seems to be an issue for him at the moment.”

Jackson grabbed another beer, thought better of it, and reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels. Grabbing two glasses with the other hand, he made his way toward the end of the dock and sat down beside her. The full skirt of her wedding gown was hiked up, showing off her legs and the hint of the garter belt she wore beneath. Her stockings, he noted, were still balled up in her fist, clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. “I hate to say it, and he picked a shitty way to go about it, but you dodged a bullet. Trevor’s an asshole.”

Evie took the glass he extended to her and sniffed suspiciously at the amber liquid inside it. “I had reached that very same conclusion.”

“Drink up. It’ll stop burning after the first couple of shots,” he offered helpfully.

Evie downed the liquid and heat exploded in her gut. She coughed and her eyes watered. Eventually, the heat that was setting her on fire spread out and settled to a heavy warmth in her limbs. “Are you trying to kill me? Jesus!”

He chuckled. “Sorry. Don’t get much call for chardonnay out here. If it ain’t Bud Light or tequila, most folks aren’t that interested. Jack Daniels is the only halfway passable thing I have to drink...It would take too much beer to get you blitzed right now and I really hate pukers.”

“Then you’re in the wrong business,” she said, holding her glass out for a refill.

Jackson complied. “So what’s that damage?”

“The damage is that my father just shelled out almost fifty grand for a wedding that didn’t happen. Trevor’s parents are beside themselves. My Aunt Lynnette and Uncle Bill are beside themselves too, because apparently Trevor didn’t decide that he didn’t want to get married.... He just decided he didn’t want to get married to me. So, he ran off with my cousin Lisa.”

Jackson was momentarily impressed. Lisa Harper was a red haired bombshell and one he would have assumed was way out of Trevor’s league. To his knowledge, Lisa hadn’t dated anyone that didn’t have a six figure income, legitimately or not, since she’d graduated high school. “That’s not what I expected to hear... It isn’t much of a consolation, but he’ll regret it. Lisa Harper will chew him up and spit him out in record time. I imagine he’ll come crawling back to you soon enough.”

“He can just keep crawling,” she said hotly. “Do you really think that I would have him back after this? Oh, I get it! I’m fat and therefore should be grateful for any male attention I get!”

Jackson held up his hands in mock surrender, “I never said that. I never once said that! If you don’t want him back, don’t take him back. I never thought he deserved you to begin with.”

Evie felt the flush of embarrassment, accompanied by the heat of the alcohol. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just hear that a lot.”

“Then stop listening because they’re fucking idiots. You look amazing. You always have.”

She didn’t know if it was the whiskey, her wounded pride or the sincerity that she convinced herself was there in his voice, but Evie suddenly felt compelled to do the one thing she’d always dreamed of. She was going to seduce Jackson Cope.

“I want you to teach me how to be bad.”
“I don’t think so,” he said mildly.
“Why not? I thought you liked the way I looked.”

“I do like the way you look...and if you hadn’t been jilted at the altar and just consumed enough whiskey to fell the entire Ol’ Miss defensive line, I’d probably take you up on it.”

Evie lay back on the dock, staring up at the blue sky and the wide expanse of his well muscled back. “Do you remember offering to teach me? It was the Memorial Day Picnic, when you and Trevor got into a fight. It was after you punched him in the face, but before they carted you to the gate. You said that if I ever got tired of being everybody’s good little girl, I should come and look you up. So, that’s what I’m doing… I’m here because you offered to teach me how to be bad.” With each word she traced tiny circles on his bronzed back with her fingertips, loving the feel of his sun warmed skin.

“I’m not your instrument of revenge. Yes, Trevor and I hate one another’s guts, but I’m not going to fuck you just to piss him off,” he said. Evie knew his language was chosen purposely. He wanted to make her angry.

“I didn’t come to you because of Trevor. I came because you offered and according to the text message he sent me, if I was a better lay, he wouldn’t have had to run off with my slutty cousin. Since you’re the local sexpert, who better to give me lessons?”

“So you want me to teach you the tricks to lure him back, is that it?”

Evie shook her head, and the fluffy clouds overhead seemed to dance. She closed her eyes and allowed her fingers to trail along the waistband of his ancient jeans, her perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly over his skin. “I don’t want him back…but what if he’s right? What if—I’ve never been with anyone but Trevor, and it was awful. Every time, it was just awful.”

The vulnerability of her voice, the slight quivering he heard pushed him over the edge. “It isn’t your fault. It’s his. He’s a selfish bastard and selfish people make horrible lovers,” he responded reasonably.

“So teach me…show me what I’ve been missing,” she urged.

Jackson knew he was in trouble then. While the rational part of his brain was telling him to run like hell, it was rapidly losing the battle with his cock, which was pulsing eagerly in his pants. He wouldn’t do that. She’d been dumped at the altar, jilted in front of the entire town. He doubted she was making rational decisions, but he had to know. The question had haunted him from the first time Trevor had boasted of taking her to bed. He shifted slightly, coming down onto his side, laying beside her on the dock. “Did he ever make you come, Evie? Just one time?”

“No,” she replied. “I thought maybe it was me but…”

He knew what she’d been going to say. “But you never had that problem on your own?” Her answering blush as she nodded set him on fire. He’d wanted her forever, and Trevor had taken her just for spite. He could have this one afternoon where he taught her what it felt like to be well and truly loved. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers, tasting the whiskey they’d shared. She sighed into his mouth and he wanted to consume her. He deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding between her lips to slide sensuously over hers. The dress was too complicated to remove. If he did, he’d never get her back in it. He settled for touching her through the satin. He placed his hand on her ribs, moving in the same slow circles that she’d used to drive him crazy. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and pulled back, staring down at her expectantly.

“Here?” she asked, looking around with a hint of panic.

He grinned, “You wanted to be bad, right? Part of being bad means taking risks.” Leaning closer, he whispered hotly against her ear, “Anyone could see us here... Your dress pulled up, my hands beneath it, moving between your thighs. Is that what you want?”

Evie couldn’t respond. A whimper of sound escaped her and her hands fisted against his sides. He smiled, knowing that he had her. “I want to see your breasts.” It was a challenge, and it would tell him just how far she was willing to go. When her trembling hands moved beneath the straps of her dress and she tugged the fabric down, he realized that she’d already turned the tables on him. The dress would only go so far, and the pink of her nipples was just visible above the embroidered neckline. Dragging his eyes away from her breasts which were barely contained in the lacy cups of whatever feminine confection she wore beneath that dress, he looked at her face. The uncertainty was there in her big, brown eyes; in the nervous way she chewed at her lower lip and in the blush that fanned over her high cheekbones. With her dark hair spilling about her creamy, white shoulders she’d never looked more beautiful, but she didn’t believe it. That had always been Evie’s problem. To her parents and to Trevor, she’d never been thin enough, never been good enough, and to him, she’d always been perfect.

Reverently, he covered one lush mound with his hand, his callused fingers sliding over her soft flesh. Her nipple pebbled against his palm, the hard bud begging for attention. She moaned softly, her back arching up off the boards of the dock, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand. He lifted her breast and dipped his head to close his mouth over the furled peak. Swirling his tongue over it in gentle, soft strokes, he reveled in the sweet taste of her skin. But sweetness wasn’t what his Evie needed. Evie wanted to be bad. With that uppermost in his mind, he closed his teeth over her nipple, tugging gently. She screamed, not in pain, but in pleasure. Her hips moved against him, seeking.

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