Naughty by Nature Read online

  Naughty by Nature

  Addison Moore

  Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.

  Contents

  Books by Addison Moore

  1. Midnight Mischief

  2. Jaxson

  3. Sensual Shenanigans

  4. Jaxson

  5. Sexcapades

  6. Jaxson

  7. Hot and Heavy Horseplay

  8. Jaxson

  9. Risqué Business

  10. Jaxson

  11. Playful Misconduct

  12. Jaxson

  13. The Joke’s on You

  14. Jaxson

  Books by Addison Moore

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Edited by Paige Maroney Smith

  Cover Design: Gaffey Media

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  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2017 by Addison Moore

  http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com/

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Smashwords License agreement

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

  * * *

  Copyright © 2017 by Addison Moore

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  Table of Contents

  Created with Vellum

  Books by Addison Moore

  Romance

  3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)

  Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)

  Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)

  Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)

  Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)

  Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)

  Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7)

  Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses 8)

  Forbidden Kisses (3:AM Kisses 9)

  Dirty Kisses (3:AM Kisses 10)

  Stolen Kisses (3:AM Kisses 11)

  Lucky Kisses (3:AM Kisses 12)

  Revenge Kisses (3:AM Kisses 13)

  * * *

  Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity 1)

  A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity 2)

  Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3)

  * * *

  Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)

  Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)

  Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3)

  * * *

  The Solitude of Passion

  * * *

  Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)

  Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)

  Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)

  Young Adult Romance

  Melt With You (A Totally ’80s Romance 1)

  Tainted Love (A Totally ’80s Romance 2)

  Hold Me Now (A Totally ’80s Romance 3)

  * * *

  Parnormal Romance

  (Celestra Book World in Order)

  Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)

  Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)

  Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)

  Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)

  Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)

  Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)

  Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)

  Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 8)

  Elysian (Celestra Series Book 9)

  Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)

  * * *

  Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)

  Season of the Witch (A Celestra Companion)

  * * *

  Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)

  Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2)

  Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)

  * * *

  Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)

  The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After 2)

  The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3)

  Crown of Ashes (Celestra Forever After 4) Soon!

  Midnight Mischief

  Poppy

  Jaxson Stade is a Roman statue come to life, carved by the ancient masters with a body of a god and a heart of impenetrable steel—most likely fashioned by those rolls of alloy that have made his family billionaires ten times over. It’s hard to believe after all these years we’re in the same room, feet on the floor within fighting distance in the very same bar. A live band croons in the corner, an entire crowd of bodies hustles for space between us as the scent of stale fries and beer fills my senses, but it’s Jaxson and his obnoxious presence that has my full attention.

  A tiny blonde scoots in beside me. “Poppy Montgomery! Now is that a look of yearning or burning on your pretty little face?”

  I glance over at my best friend, whom I haven’t seen in the flesh in far too long, and dive into a quick embrace. “It’s a look of churning—as in revulsion. And by the way, I’m pretty sure yearning and burning are one in the same, Sadie Richards.” I pull her into a hug with an explosion of laughter as we bounce up and down like six-year-olds.

  “I’m so happy to have you back!” Her blonde curls dust my face as she does her best to crush my ribcage. “You can never leave again. I’m not letting you go.” Sadie is a pixy incarnate. Tiny features, sparkling pink lips, big blue doe eyes—Sadie is gorgeous enough to make anyone with an X-chromosome look twice. She’s petite and beautiful and an all-around vixen—and she just so happens to be coming off of what she refers to as her very first divorce. It’s safe to say, Sadie is planning on amassing her fair share of exes. “Are you scoping out the midnight offerings?” She bumps my hip with her own.

  Midnight. I shudder at the prospect of being void a set of lips to press against mine at that annual bewitching hour.

  New Year’s Eve is just the kind of holiday that requires copious amounts of alcohol, lots of carnal cavorting with friends and potential lovers alike, and, perhaps best of all, a sexual situation brewing around midnight. But this New Year’s Eve is different. It’s my first in Oak Grove since I left five years ago. I’ve been back for the odd obligatory holiday, this last Christmas withstanding. My family alternates hosting the holy holiday with the Stade family every other year—as in Jaxson Stade’s family—and every other year I’m magically and mysteriously unable to make it. While I was still in college, my tried-and-true excuse was citing post-final exhaust, and after graduation a faux internship cropped up, but this past Christmas, I was wrapping up my last two weeks at work as a design consultant to an impressive L.A. firm. Yes, five years at a private college on a beach in Santa Barbara has done me well. I managed to land myself a cushy position at a top firm touted highly by everyone who is anyone in La La Land. But I digress as my eyes fall back on the sight they’ve been craving for oh so long, Jaxson Stade… don’t even get me started on that hot body. I bite down over my lower lip as an aching sigh expels from me.

  “He is a sight to behold.” A dark-haired beauty, smelling of that sweet familiar tea-scented perfume I’ve come to associate with my sister, pops up on my left.

  “Mackenzie!” I pull her into a tight embrace as my second hug-fest of the evening ensues. Back in L.A., I’ve yet to hug a single soul. Come to find out, such a show of affection is practically illegal in the City of Ang
els. In its place are well-delineated physical boundaries and sexual assault infringements. “Is Conner here?” Conner is Mack’s twin, and thankfully our one and only overprotective brother. Back in high school, I couldn’t go two steps with a date without Conner giving them a shakedown worthy of an FBI investigation.

  Mack squawks at the prospect. “Conner took off with some hot blonde over an hour ago—but never mind our whorish big bro. You really took a crap on Christmas this year, Pops. We missed you.”

  It makes my stomach churn to hear her say that. Sure, I feel guilty missing other holidays, too, but missing Christmas feels like something just this side of a felony. Christmas is huge in my family, and I hate that I missed out on all the caroling and cavorting because I’m essentially a coward. I shoot Jax a knife-sharp look because we both know it’s all his fault.

  “I’m here now.” I pat Mack over the shoulders, drinking down this slightly older version of myself, same dark wavy hair, same lucent green eyes. My mother called us her Irish twins mostly because we were born a year apart—she didn’t let the sheets cool as she so indelicately puts it. But to this day, I think the reference has more to do with these emerald lenses we get to see the world through. “And I’m ready to take a crap all over the New Year, too, so you’d better watch out. Where’s your better half?” Mack married her longtime boyfriend, Dave Holiday, right out of high school. They’ve been hitched for a blissful six years and have a boy and a girl underfoot already, Ellie and Benny. Well— blissful might be a tad exaggerating. An acid tongue is a longtime family trait that has been passed down on our mother’s side, and is something both my sister and I have in common. Apparently, it doesn’t bode well for spouses, thus the constant strife the two young lovebirds face, and sadly thus the constant strife in their marriage.

  “My other half is probably literally crapping. He tapped out and sent me into the wild. I knew you’d be here, and I wouldn’t miss it. Did you see Mom?”

  “Only for a second. My flight came in late, and by the time I dragged my luggage into the house, she and Dad were already headed up to bed. She pointed me to the party and hit the sack.” It’s true. Everybody, including my mother, knows that the Starry Nights Bar and Grill is the place to be on this the lustiest night of the year—and every night outside of that, considering that it’s the beating heart of Oak Grove. This is basically it as far as the party scene goes, and judging by how packed it is, the locals and the Denver overflow alike don’t seem to mind it.

  “So, what do you think?” Sadie hooks her arm through mine as she nods over toward Jax and the horny little harem amassing around him.

  Mack leans in and sinks her gaze in the god of Oak Grove’s direction. “I know you’re wondering—and yes—he’s single as a slice of cheese.”

  Both Sadie and I groan. Mack is the queen of the cheesy one-liners.

  “Of course, he’s single,” I grunt as the girls crowding him block him from view. “He’s a manwhore. Everyone knows you can’t hold a good manwhore down—especially not one with his bank account lined in solid gold Krugerrands.”

  “But we can try!” Larissa Debeers, a dark-haired vixen, face of a cold-hearted bitch, who looks as if she belongs on a Victoria’s Secret runway rather than holed up in Oak Grove, pops up swilling a cherry red cocktail in her well-manicured hand. Yes, Jax is panty-dropping gorgeous, but he’s also loaded, which means he brings the gold diggers to the yard, case in point Larissa. “Nice to see you slumming, Pop Top,” says the Krugerrands’ huntress herself.

  Wow. You flash the boys’ track team just once in your entire scholastic career and you garner a nickname that endures time immemorial.

  “I see L.A. is doing well by you,” Larissa muses as she takes me in from head to toe. Larissa had her own stint in L.A., and thankfully our paths never crossed. She was out trying to progress her modeling slash acting career, but after one mediocre commercial touting the ills of a yeast infection, she packed up her yeast-infected behind and hightailed it back to Oak Grove. I’m guessing that vaginal itch for Jax and his billions never quite went away. There’s no cure for greedy.

  “Louboutin heels in a snowstorm?” She snorts. “Snug leather jacket—that fits as if Cinderella’s mice themselves adhered it to your body? And those jeans?” Her brows rise in amusement. “I’d ask if you painted them on, but my guess is you’ve gone pantless and your flesh has turned a healthy shade of blue.”

  I’d laugh, but I promised myself long ago I wouldn’t waste the energy on Larissa. We have a brief yet tumultuous history not worthy of repeating.

  I’d ask why she’s kept her feet planted in Oak Grove, but according to her body language, her own painted on clothing, it’s apparent why she’s hanging around. “Still working on your MRS degree at the U of Oak Grove, I see.” I nod toward Jax without meaning to, not that it’s a secret she’s heavily into the town’s honorary playboy.

  “Mmm,” she moans, taking him in with the rest of us. “It’s true. I’ve always had a hankering for tall, filthy rich, and gorgeous. But Jaxy Boy is untouchable. I think that’s why the girls swoon twice as hard.” She looks to me with those dark amber eyes. “A girl always wants what she can’t have. Isn’t that right, Pop Top?” She gives a sly wink before slinking away.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” My foot twists in my Louboutin as if doling out a threat.

  “Don’t listen to her.” Sadie shoves her cosmopolitan in my hand, and I take a quick sip. “She’s just bitter because the closer you are to her favorite boy toy, she knows that her chances of landing him horizontal for the night decrease dramatically.”

  “That might be true,” Mack muses. “But nonetheless, she is one of his regulars. That boy has every available girl in town on a crop rotation—they’re well-trained to his nefarious ways, too. The only catfights that take place are at his request. Rumor has it, all of those wrestling matches take place in bed at his command. Dave says he’s taking them three at a time now.”

  “Disgusting,” I hiss as Jax slowly becomes enveloped by the harlots vying for a chance to become one in three. “God, when did he morph into such a pervert? And it’s shocking his mother puts up with that.” His mother just so happens to be my own mother’s lifelong best friend, and if they’re about anything, they’re about getting into every sloppy detail of their children’s lives. To them, it’s not only a haunting pastime— it’s research. Charlene—my mother, and Debbie—the one who sponsored Jaxson’s birther movement, have in recent years embarked on the precarious world of blogging.

  The Mischief Mavens’ Baking Blog has had over a million hits last year. Yes, you’ve read that right. A million hits means that they’ve actually spellbound a jury of their peers and tricked them into coming back time and time again. And believe you me, that whole baking thing is just a confectionary ruse. The most popular feature of their blog falls under the category of mischief. You see, pranks and all things shenanigans happen to be our mothers’ specialty. Donning fuzzy pink robes and curlers just to drop us off at school was a regular running gag—the irony being that neither of them slept in curlers. I can’t even count how many Halloween nights they followed close behind the two of us with demonic clown masks and axes. If you’ve surmised the fact that we never trick-or-treated with other people, you’ve guessed right.

  Then there was the time they showed up to our prom. They made no bones about the fact they were chronically pissed that both Jax and I chose to go stag rather than as each other’s plus one. Of course, the mischief mavens decided that what better way to mark the occasion as regrettable than dancing the Macarena right beside us? And the last, but I’m sure not final stunt they pulled on the two of us was altering the acceptance letters from the universities we applied to, informing us that we had swiftly been rejected from each and every school, when in fact the opposite were true. They copped to it soon enough, but the laugh was on them once I chose a school thousands of miles away from them at a private university in L.A. that came complete with
a major scholarship. Only it wasn’t the two of them I was running from.

  Sadie steps in close with her arms crossed, that oddly vexed look on her face, and it makes me wonder if she wants her cosmo back. “Of course, his mother knows he’s a pervert. Everybody with a pair of eyes knows that. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want that for her precious baby boy. In fact, you of all people should realize what Jaxson’s mother wants for him—or should I say who?”

  “Not this again.” I down the rest of her drink and slam the glass on the table next to me like a gavel.

  “You know it’s true.” Mack shakes her head. “Mom and Deb have always thought you two belonged together. As soon as you were born, they pressed your little hand in his.”

  “I know. I’ve seen the picture.” It sits in a frame just outside my old bedroom along with an entire childhood montage of the friendship Jax and I once shared. Our mothers delivered us three months apart—and were they ever thrilled to have a bride for baby Jaxson. Little did they know their precious JJ, as they affectionately called him, would turn into a petri dish for all sorts of new strains of syphilis. “But, poor Deb will have to find another bride for her wayward slutty son,” I huff. “One that doesn’t mind sharing the marriage bed with a revolving door of hussies.”

  Jax and I used to be the best of friends—and then puberty hit and ruined that good time. Jax and I started with the puppy dog eyes about fifth grade—but a quick peck of a kiss in the middle of our freshman year landed us in an unspeakably awkward place. It didn’t help that our mothers glommed onto that pimple-laced opportune moment to plan our upcoming nuptials.