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Ride Me (Bone Daddy #1)
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From New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author R.G. Alexander, Book 1 in the Bone Daddy series!
Allegra Jarod moved to New Orleans after her accident, determined to reconnect with her best friend while healing from her wounds. She wasn’t expecting to lose her heart to the troubled café owner, Rousseau. Now that she has, she’s determined to unravel his mysterious secret.
Celestin Rousseau thought he knew all about lust and desire, but he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants Allegra. He struggles to resist her, knowing he can never be the man she thinks she wants. Not as long as the spirit riding him has anything to say about it.
Warning: Explicit m/f sex and New Orleans magic. Voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sexorcism… Yeah, you read that right.
*This book was previously published in 2010 as part of the book titled Possess Me by R.G. Alexander. It has been extensively revised, edited and is significantly longer than the original version.
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“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.”
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.