Taming Karla

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

WEDNESDAY NIGHT AT Sand Dune boomed loud with music and laughing patrons, college kids and surfers fresh off the beach. Some even bothered to wipe the sand off their feet. Karla wiped down the counter, having to step on her tiptoes to reach the outer edge. She didn’t mind, of course. Leaning over like that allowed her top to pop open as she teased the customers with her cleavage and promised them treasures just beyond their grasp. Heath, Sand Dune’s bouncer five nights a week, winked at her as she glanced up, showing his appreciation of the view. Paul Kiser, owner and bartender, reached under her skirt and pinched her ass as he walked by on his way to the Glenlivet. Those who noticed, also cheered. Karla just yelped as she jerked upward, her squeal turning to laughter. She turned, smiling at him as she slapped her towel at him. He surprised her with the pinch, but it wasn’t unexpected. Paul played grab ass with her ever since before he hired her. It was probably because of how much he loved her ass that he gave her the job. The interview process took place behind locked doors and after hours and involved more than grabbing ass. Of course, the two of them went further than the grab ass phase back when she was a patron and not an employee. Paul was always her sure thing at last call if no one better ever came along. Sure, it sounded bad if said that way, but it wasn’t meant that way. Neither of them ever took it beyond the booty call at closing time, so no one ever got hurt, and she even got a job out of it. Still, Karla was all about new adventures, which Paul ceased to be after the first night she couldn’t pay her bar tab. That was the night she knew Sand Dune was her bar.

Sand Dune was the latest job in a long string of jobs. She tended to go through them as fast as she went through relationships. She wasn’t the type to stay in one place for very long. Never was. She became bored. Quick. Needed to move. Needed change. Constant change.

She tried college. When her sister, Aimee, entered community college, Karla followed her—as she tended to do with everything. Yet, while school was perfect for Aimee, it was an uncomfortable fit for Karla. It didn’t surprise her parents. She hated high school, so the fact she even tried college shocked everyone. Her mother always said Karla possessed a gypsy spirit, prone to wander. It became her excuse to wander from job to job, as well as relationship to relationship. Aimee always saw the future. Planned for it, even down to her retirement plan. Karla only cared about the now, the latest party, newest adventure. The future would take care of itself, she believed. And it always did, leaving her free to enjoy her life.

“Vodka and cranberry and a Jack and Coke, please.” He was blond, still wearing his board shorts and smelling like the Atlantic. He wasn’t alone, either. Vodka and cranberry meant there was a female. Ah, well. He was cute and taken men never bothered her. Yes, Karla was one of those women. She didn’t answer to anyone and even when she did, it still didn’t matter. She did whatever she felt like doing. This was the reason her relationships never lasted. Six months, that was her average time in a serious relationship. She endured one for an entire year before, but eventually, it ran its course, she grew restless, and she got busted in bed with someone else and the love affair ended. Not the one with the guy she was in bed with, of course, just the one she was supposed to be serious about. It didn’t matter. There was always someone else who thought they could change her. They wanted the challenge. They weren’t like other men, they promised. They could handle her. Yet, all men were alike and none of them were up for the challenge of Karla Harper. They meant well. They had high hopes. Enthusiasm. And even though she warned them, they all made a valiant, yet futile, attempt.

Each one of them failed to realize that Karla Harper despised relationships.

She slid the drinks in front of the surfer, took his twenty, and thanked him. She watched as he carried the drinks to a corner booth overlooking the Atlantic shore and gave an appreciative nod when she saw Miss Vodka and Cranberry. With a slight nod, Karla decided she may have to weasel her way into that couple before the night ended.

And that was the problem with relationships. If she had a man who claimed her, she wouldn’t be able to go out with surfer dude and his girlfriend. At least, not without someone getting their boxers in a wad. Relationships came with rules and Karla Harper despised rules. They were restraints that bound you to the morals of the past and kept you from relishing life in the present. And Karla relished life. She loved s*x, loved showing off her body, craved the attention and adventures it brought. Men trapped you in a relationship and then hid their partner’s body and quelled the adventures. Nobody stifled Karla’s fun.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, a text from Mitch. Let’s hit the steak house tomorrow night. You’re buying.

One of her eyebrows popped up. He had guts, she’d give him that, to be so casually telling her they were going out, especially after his little stunt that morning. She typed back. You’re asking me out. Why would I buy? And shouldn’t you apologize for this morning before suggesting we go out to dinner. She slid the phone back into her pocket with a shake of her head at his audacity and finished wiping down the counter. It didn’t really need it, of course, but it gave Paul the illusion that she was being industrious. He was easily fooled. Besides, he liked staring at her shaking ass.

Cleaning the counter also gave her time to think about the fiasco of this morning. Mitch Greenway fascinated her about as much as he totally pissed her off. Their relationship, friendship, encounter—she had no idea what to call what they had—began, because she intended to manipulate him to fix her sister’s piece of crap car. She threw herself at him, screwed him in his garage, and even had a threesome with him and her friend, Sandy, from the local radio station right outside Sand Dune on the beach. What did Karla get in return? He chased after Aimee, instead. Of course, Aimee and he never had s*x, but it did put the twins at each other’s throats for a couple of weeks.

Her phone vibrated again. Because we’re not dating. Isn’t that the gist of what I heard you tell Brad this morning? And I paid last time. She growled. They weren’t dating, that was true enough. However, Karla Harper didn’t pay, not for dinner, not for car repairs, not for anything, and she told him that in her next text. He knew it, of course. He was just trying to make a point. Well, he knew where he could stick his point.

She gave a soft laugh as her dirty mind took over. Mitch Greenway did know where he could stick his point, and he was as skilled in the bedroom—or anywhere else, for that matter—as she was. He was also just as big a player as she was, and that was probably why the two of them kept coming back to each other. They weren’t in a relationship, but they were more than friends with benefits. She just wished she knew what that was.

Her phone vibrated. Okay. Never mind then.

She stared at the phone. What the hell? That son-of-a-b***h won’t go out with me unless I pay? Who the hell does he think he is? He knows better. She simply texted back, Fine, her fingers pounding her frustration out on her phone’s keyboard. She shoved the phone into her back pocket as two more guys stepped up to the bar. She didn’t need Mitch’s bullshit. There were enough men at Sand Dune who would play by her rules. She didn’t have to tolerate Mitch’s mind games. Karla made men play her games. It did not go the other way around. Ever.

He tried the control gamut a few days ago when he told her he was taking her out to dinner. Told her when he would pick her up. That wasn’t even the most ballsy move of his that evening. He showed up and told her to change clothes. He didn’t ask and he didn’t doubt she would do it, either. The point that really pissed her off, the point that frustrated her and was infuriatingly unbearable, was that she obeyed. She actually did it. Oh, she mumbled and bitched, did her best to be an obnoxious date, but, nevertheless, she did everything Mitch Greenway asked of her. On top of that, to add salt to her wound, he walked her to her door and simply kissed her goodnight. He made no attempt to get into her pants whatsoever. As a matter of fact, she practically begged him to come inside and f**k her. It was infuriating. Humiliating.

And somehow, it was all hot as hell.

Karla filled two tall beer glasses with Samuel Adams and slid them in front of two college kids. She couldn’t focus on the customers anymore. Her emotions became the ping-pong ball between the paddles of frustration and excitement when it came to the roguish Mitch Greenway. She found herself constantly batted back and forth. It drove her crazy.

“What’s up, gorgeous?”

Turning, Karla noticed Charlie Haverston leaning up against the bar, his fingers laced together as a smile decorated his tanned face. “Just another Wednesday night,” she said as she matched the dark-haired man’s posture. Charlie was one of the many weekday regulars at Sand Dune who preferred the quieter nights to that of hip-hop music and barely legal looking females who flooded the place on the weekends. He also avoided the sandier sides of the bar where the surfers and beachgoers gathered, not a fan of sand. Karla always thought it weird that he came to a beach bar but dreaded the beach. “Nothing wrong with girls in skimpy bikinis off the beach,” he would tell her. Karla would just laugh and say he missed out on part of the fun. Girls in skimpy bikinis were good on or off the beach. “What are you having tonight?”

“You?” He gave her a wink.

“Not on the menu—tonight. How about a Jack and Coke?”

“Not as tasty, I’m sure, but all right. Hopefully, I’ll be here for when you are on the menu.” He stared at her ass as she poured the whiskey into a high ball glass over ice and then topped it off with Coke, a thin layer of foam at the top.

Sean, her bartending partner, came out of the back with a tray of clean glasses. “Charlie, when are you going to learn you’ll never be that lucky?”

Charlie shrugged. “My luck’s bound to change sooner or later.”

She slid Charlie’s drink in front of him. “Now, that’s a positive outlook.”

He lifted his glass in a toast. “To luck.” She nodded as he took his first swallow of the night. Sean just shook his head as he moved to the end of the bar to help two ladies in short skirts.

Glancing over his shoulder, Charlie asked, “How’s the hump day action tonight? Seems pretty quiet.”

“Quiet for a Friday night, but perfect for a Wednesday, which it is,” Karla said. “You may be satisfying your own needs tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Practical, but not very satisfying. I could always hang out until last call. Buy you breakfast. Then, we could play barmaid and well-satisfied customer.” He smiled, a crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he gazed at her with a hopeful look.

She patted his hand. “Not on the menu, remember?”

“And just what puts you on the menu?”

She grinned as she batted her eyelashes a bit. “Well, I do, of course.”

He just laughed as he took another sip of his drink. A couple of blonds walked in, laughing and smiling as they crossed the empty dance floor. Charlie watched their progress, his smile revealing his thoughts. Already distracted by another set of legs. Men were predictably fickle.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mitch Greenway dropped his cell phone onto the work bench, as a chuckle escaped his lips. It was easy to get Karla rattled. She wore such a massive chip on her shoulder. He didn’t understand why, either. She was pretty, no doubt. Sexy, even. However, she could really be a snot at times. His chuckle settled into a smile as he pulled a rag out of his back pocket, wiping his hands. Turning back to the Dodge Dakota he was working on, he made a five dollar bet with himself as to whether she would show up for dinner or not.

“Turned you down, didn’t she?”

He glanced over to where Sandy Elantra leaned back on the truck—her truck—with her hands gripping the edge of the truck bed, offering him a nice view of her round breasts as she made sure they were pushed out for his viewing pleasure. Her stance reminded him of the first night Karla appeared in his garage, offering herself up to him so that he wouldn’t chase after her sister. It didn’t stop him, of course. He f****d Karla right there in the garage and then took her sister out the very next day. The fact that the two women were twins spurred him on to the challenge. That and the fact he didn’t appreciate the way Karla tried to manipulate him. If anyone was going to do the manipulating, it was going to be him.

Of course, unknown to him, Aimee Harper had her own romantic quandary with a fellow tenant in her building and, while she did go out with Mitch a couple of times, sharing a passionate kiss or two, that was as far as it went. Ah well, not every chase ends with a capture.

With Aimee’s rejection, he turned his attention on Karla. “She did. For now.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Where one challenge ended, another began. While he would have enjoyed sleeping with both twins, Karla was more in tune with his mindset on things. She just needed some control, and he would be the one to give it to her.

For the time being, however, there was Karla’s best friend, Sandy. “I told you so,” the ash-blond said with a smirk. “Karla likes to be in charge. Men cater to her, not the other way around.”

Mitch shrugged as he closed the distance between them. “Tomorrow night’s not here yet.” He raked her body with his eyes, relishing the white half-shirt that clung to her as well as the blue jean miniskirt. Even her feet looked sexy in her brown sandals. He glanced back up into her pale blue eyes as his hand slid into her short hair, cradling the back of her head. “Your friend may be stubborn, but I usually win in the end.”

Sandy tried to smirk, but it didn’t work and, instead, she ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them. He thrived on the way he could take her breath away. “You didn’t win with Aimee.” Her voice came out more as a gasp than an actual voice. Her eyes stayed focused on his lips.

“I said usually.” Karla was the reason he had even met Sandy. Several nights ago, he popped in on Karla during one of her shifts at Sand Dune, hoping for a little after-hours tryst. Sandy appeared with the same thought in mind and the three of them made a nice circle of passion on the beach once Karla clocked out. He continued to see both of them after that, even though Sandy knew his goal was Karla. Why Sandy still hung around was beyond him, but he wasn’t above enjoying her attributes while waiting for Karla to surrender.

Gripping Sandy’s hair at the back of her head, he spun her around, pressing her against the side of the truck. Her yelp of surprise bounced off the garage walls. He slid a hand up her thighs and over her ass, smiling when he found no underwear. Good girl. “Did I tell you this is where I first f****d your friend? It happened right here, right up against her sister’s car, just like I have you now.”

He felt her ass as she pushed it back against his swelling c**k. “Really? Please continue. Tell me more.”

He grinned as he released her hair. He’d do more than tell her. Sliding his hand down her back and up under her shirt, his fingers grazed her sun-bronzed skin. His other hand continued to caress her ass as it swayed in front of him, taunting him. “She was trying to manipulate me, coming in here, stripping out of her shorts before planting her hands against her sister’s car.” He slid his hand around to Sandy’s breast and under her bra, taking her hardened n****e between his fingers, twirling it back and forth. With his other hand, he bent her over the side of the truck, sliding her skirt up onto her back as he did. “She stood right here, wiggling her round little ass, just begging me to shove my c**k into her.” He reached down, unzipped his pants, and pulled his manhood free from its confines. He slid it between her legs, gliding it over her wet lips to tease at her swollen clit. Her moans filled his work area as she slid herself up and down the length of his c**k. He grinned at how eager she was.

“More,” she said, her voice a throaty moan. “Give me more.”

He released her n****e, gripping her hips with both hands, the tip of his c**k at the entrance to her slick passage. “I smacked her ass.” He let go of her, swatted her ass, and then with a hard thrust, buried himself into her s*x. “And then I gave her what she wanted.”

Sandy cried out as she shoved her body back to meet his thrust. “Is this what she gave you?” She bounced back and forth on his c**k, slipping a finger between her legs to rub at her sensitive pearl. “Show me. Please, show me.”

And he did, hands back on her hips as he pounded into her. He stopped taunting her with his words and gave her what she wanted, what he gave Karla. He felt her fingers between her legs, rubbing at her clit, and it wasn’t long before he felt her inner walls tightening around his c**k as her body tensed, shuddering with her climax. She cried out, her other hand gripping the side of the truck as she tried to pull more of his c**k inside of her. It was enough to push him over the edge. His c**k twitched and he felt his orgasm explode inside of Sandy’s passion, coating the inside of her s*x with his c*m, his fingers digging into her hips causing her to scream out again.

As the tension in both of their bodies subsided, Mitch allowed his c**k to slip from her dripping honey. He tugged her skirt back into place as he stepped back, tucking his manhood back into his pants, and watched as she turned around, her tongue gliding over her lips as her eyes smiled at him. “And she’s still fighting you? Unbelievable.” Placing a hand on his chest, she pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him hard, her tongue tasting the inside of his mouth. Breaking off the kiss, she continued to smile up at him as she allowed herself to return to her feet flat on the ground. “What on earth is she thinking?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Obviously, she’s not, which is why she needs our help.”

She gave him a wink and a sway of her hips. “By all means. You’re the boss.” She patted his chest, her hand lingering as she eased past him, dragging her fingers along his chest as she walked around him. “Be right back.” Her arm dropped to her side as she passed through the doorway leading to the office.

He watched her disappear the same way Karla did a few Mondays back, her ass doing the same sashay as she walked away. Sandy had Karla’s wild side without all the bitterness. Leaning back against the small pickup, his arms folded across his chest, he wondered what made Karla Harper so dead set against relationships.