Bad Boy Rebel (Salma Rebels Book 1)

by Skye Darrel

  “Glad you think so.”

  “I’ll help get your license back with the Real Estate Commission,” Oscar says firmly. “After Branigan cools his head. It could take a while.”

  A long while. Branigan the Third holds grudges.

  And the man who incurred this particularly grudge slides another finger into me, both fingers rubbing on my spot as his thumb circles my clit. More kisses wet my shoulder.

  I tell Oscar to reach me if he hears anything about the arrest warrant.

  “Will do. Take care, Nat.” He adds in a smaller voice, “I know you haven’t had it easy with us. I’m sorry.”

  What otherwise sounds like a heartfelt apology barely makes an impression because I’m seconds away from coming on Asher’s fingers. I tell Oscar thanks, end the call, and cry out a long moan.

  Then I smack Asher’s jaw. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Making you cum.” His hand stays under my skirt, the fingers inside me moving slowly. “Oscar say anything useful?”

  I clutch my phone so hard I almost crack the screen. “Yes,” I snap.

  “What?”

  I tell Asher everything Oscar told me. Branigan’s not bluffing about the arrest warrant. One more problem to trouble us.

  “You don’t seem worried,” I say.

  “Life is too fucking short, doll face. Are you tired?”

  “N-No.”

  We get out of the Mustang and head inside, upstairs to his bedroom. I set my bag against the wall, then face him with flushed cheeks.

  Asher shuts the bedroom door, glaring at me like he could devour me whole. Then he looks at the slatted headboard of his bed. He yanks out his belt and holds it looped in one hand.

  I gulp.

  “You are not spanking me with that thing.” My cheeks burn. I can’t believe I had to say that, but you never know with Asher Wade.

  His eyes smolder. “I would never hurt your tushy. If I wanted to spank you, I’d use my hand.”

  Embarrassing how turned on I am. My breasts feel swollen and too sensitive. Waves of heat sweep through my body. It’s his stare. His tone. The eyes. I don’t know how he can be brooding one moment and like this the next. Someone should do a psych study on the relationship between vengeful bloodlust and libido.

  “Turn around,” he growls.

  I face the bed, every nerve ending prickling. He sweeps aside the back of my hair before his lips brush my neck, his hands working over my body. Soon my dress puddles on the carpet, my bra next, and my panties last with a sudden yank.

  All the while I stand perfectly still and my skin ignites like a furnace. My pussy clenches.

  The hard edge of the belt skims down my back, over the swell of my rear, to the dampness between my thighs, tapping on my lower folds.

  I whimper.

  “You’re very wet, doll face.”

  “You’ve very hard,” I say just to say something. The man smell of him is warm and intoxicating. His hard cock pushes on my rump.

  “Get on the bed,” he says. “Ass up. I want to see your pretty holes.”

  I glare at him over my shoulder.

  “Do you trust me?” he growls.

  I trust him too freaking much.

  Biting my lip, I climb onto the bed and rest on all fours with my upturned bottom exposed. I feel so vulnerable like this, but I trust Asher completely, even if I expect a hot lash across my cheeks any moment. The anticipation kills me.

  No spanking comes.

  Instead I hear grunts, groans. He must be jerking his cock, pleasuring himself, which is so selfish and inconsiderate. Can I move? Should I move? Will he, I dunno, punish me if I change position without permission? The aching tug in my lower belly sharpens.

  Then his tongue drags from my pussy to the cleft of my bottom. My eyelids flutter.

  “Do you know how sweet you taste?”

  “You say that all the time, maybe you should use me as a condiment.”

  A light slap ripples my butt. Fingers dance over my clit, rubbing and pinching. “I just might.”

  The mattress sinks as he climbs on, and he lays me on my back then straddles my waist, his heavy cock hot on my stomach.

  “Better,” I say.

  “I want to see your face.”

  “Oh good.”

  “And your tits.”

  “No need to tell me everything.”

  “I want you to know. I want you to know how beautiful you are. What you bring out in me.”

  “Me or my tits?”

  Asher’s smile is strangely charming. And dangerous. Kissing my nipple, he pulls my hands overhead to the headboard and loops his belt around my wrists, binding me to a slat. My wrists are tied.

  “How do you feel, doll face?”

  “I feel like you have something dirty in mind.”

  He pries my thighs apart and slaps my sex. I’m so wet his hand goes away covered in my desire, and he licks it up shamelessly. “Such a sweet little pussy. Such a good girl.”

  That dirty mouth licks me down there while his fingers play with my clit. I was near orgasm from the car, and now I need him so bad I’d do anything. My body arches, desperate for more friction, for his tongue to penetrate deeper, for the feel of his cock. Pleasure scorches my nerves.

  I pull at the belt binding my wrists.

  “Did you cum?” he says.

  I turn my head from side to side, unable to answer, unsure, sensations blending together, pleasure fusing with the chafing ache of the belt biting my wrists and even that feels good. The gnawing tickle in my pussy tells me no, the tension squeezing my belly tells me no. “No!”

  “Good, you’re waiting for permission aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

  “I swear, Asher, if you say that one more time, I’ll—”

  My mouth clamps shut as he suckles my clit, and my hips flop like a fish on land. The pleasure is excruciating.

  Then he stops again.

  “Please,” I breathe.

  “I love you,” Asher whispers through his teeth. “I want you to cum hard for me, okay? I want you to let it all out when I put my cock in you.”

  “Y-Yes.” I press my lips together. “Yes. Yes.”

  He clambers over me with his huge cock swaying from side to side, the muscles of his shoulders bulging out, biceps tense, every part of him thick and hard and hungry. He lifts my legs against his shoulders and dips his cock into my clenched pussy.

  My lungs empty in a long gasp.

  Oh God.

  He feels bigger at this angle, straight down into my body. My juices seep out as I throw my head back and pull against my bindings.

  “Open your eyes,” he groans. His thumb runs over my brow. “I fell in love with your eyes first.”

  My vision sheets white. Every plunge of his cock feels more forceful than the last. I feel the slap of his balls on my skin and the squish of his shaft between my walls. He sets my legs down and grabs my hips, stamping his cock into me without restraint, mashing his body on my tortured clit.

  Thrusts that rattle my teeth and jar my vision.

  My pussy constricts, orgasm licking through my belly in tongues of heat that make me scream as tears stream down my face.

  We cum together.

  Hot stickiness leaks out where our bodies are joined.

  He unloops his belt and brings my hands down. The skin of my wrists is indented from how hard I’d pulled. He kisses the tenderness, a guilty look on his face.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I liked it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Why’d you tie me up?”

  He kisses my chin. “I didn’t want to lose you, baby.”

  I wrap my legs around his hips to feel him closer. “You’re being crazy again.”

  “Nothing will take you from me,” he says. “Nothing.”

  27

  A Bad Feeling

  Asher

  My internal clock is clockwork. I woke up at five and watched her sleep for an hour. I lay besid
e her and played with her hair spilled over the pillow. The ragged ends where Titus had cut have grown out again, but I can’t forget that day. No more than I can forget the day I learned of my sister’s fate.

  Natalie sleeps so peacefully I don’t dare wake her. Sleeping Beauty in my bed.

  We have to get up soon. Time to pay Dunkel another visit and press him, as Natalie said.

  Her doe eyes open. A smile. “You’re up early,” she whispers.

  “Always am.”

  She glances at my erection, her cheeks flushing. She makes a sound like oh. “This is how you greet me huh?”

  “I need my morning snack.”

  “You just had to say that.”

  “Don’t make me tie you up again, doll face.”

  She flicks her lashes.

  We both see the moisture on her pussy that’s all mine. She spreads her legs and pats those soft thighs that always make me want to bite them.

  “Go to town,” she says in a shy voice.

  I shimmy down the bed, ignoring the ache in my cock for now. Her scent draws me. I dive right in, making a hot mess and not giving a fuck.

  Raw hunger. She’s my meal.

  I whirl my tongue in her pussy and tease her needy clit with my fingers. I keep my eyes on her face, observing the tiny spasms, the moans of pleasure and the grimace when I tongue her clit.

  Licking her clit from side to side, I push two fingers into her pussy and rub her walls clockwise. I crane my head back to see her pink tunnel stretching around my fingers, the scent of her, so feminine and sweet, smothering my nose. Her breathy groans reach me, and as she cums, a squirt from her pussy splashes my tongue.

  I lick my mouth. “What were you saying about condiments yesterday?” I ask.

  “Don’t even start, Asher, I know how filthy your mind is.”

  “You could cum in my coffee. I won’t need sugar anymore.”

  “Asher!”

  I smile.

  In all the years I’ve spent at war—at home and overseas than at home again—I lost a spark in my soul. No other way to put it. There were days when I felt nothing at all and enjoyed the void because nothing is better than pain. She gave that spark back. The downside being it came back concentrated, ravenous, focused solely on her, and I can’t control myself.

  My princess rises to her elbows. “Sit back,” she huffs. “My turn.”

  I’m eager to serve. I settle into a monkish kneel, ass on my heels and back straight. Palms on my thighs.

  Her eyes stray to my abs and I flex them for her. She makes a shy face, combing one hand through her glossy hair that belongs in a shampoo commercial, her eyes darting to my erection.

  “You gonna suck my cock, little girl?”

  She rolls her eyes, scoots closer, and reaches under to squeeze my balls. Small hand. Strong grip. She sees my expression and holds up her finger. “Behave.”

  “I’m behaving.”

  “Good boy.”

  I put a hand on her breast.

  She yanks my hand away. “No touching.”

  “You trying to kill me?”

  “Serves you right for belting me,” she says. “And we need to get this out of your system.”

  “My cum, you mean?”

  “No dirty talk either.” She pouts. “Lie down.”

  I get on my back as she kneels between my thighs with those big eyes pouring into mine. Her curves push out at the hips when she bends forward. She may be small, but she’s plump, and I fight the urge to grab those lush hips.

  She settles into a steady stroke of my shaft that drives me to insanity. Her head’s low enough that the ends of her hair graze my tip. She puts one hand on my thigh so she can feel me tensing.

  Whenever I near climax, she unhands me and sits back to play with her breasts like I’m not in the room, rubbing her pussy casually. The little tease shows off and denies me the final pleasure. Once in a while, she kisses my cock without sucking.

  I’m about to burst, my balls throbbing.

  The cycle continues.

  “I want your cunt,” I growl like a damn caveman. “I want to cum in your pussy.”

  She looks back. “Not in my mouth?”

  “Your cunt.”

  She smacks my cock and a dribble of white cum burns out of me before I squeeze down the rest.

  “Doll face, you keep this up and I’ll . . .”

  “You’ll what?” she says softly.

  There’s nothing I can do. I belong to her completely, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get her under me later and fuck her until she screams.

  “I won’t last much longer,” I growl. “Do you want me to lose control?”

  She squats above my erection, lowering herself just enough for her heat to touch my tip. She moves a bit and I feel her folds sliding around me. She strokes my shaft while her pussy massages the head, and my balls jump up as I climax, jetting my cum in thick pulses.

  I grab her in a furious kiss, slapping her ass a few times as the last shocks wrack my body. “You little tease.”

  “That should keep you for the day,” she says sweetly.

  Natalie stares fondly at her Beetle and the flowers she’d planted. She walks over to my Mustang. I’m waiting in the driver’s seat.

  We’re dressed casually, me in jeans and a utility shirt, my ankle holster strapped. She’s wearing shorts and one of her big T-shirts that hangs off one shoulder, her messenger bag slung at her hip.

  “Ready?” she says, getting in.

  “Always.”

  Hoyt Dunkel will tell us everything he knows one way or another.

  When we arrive at the police station, the parking lot is mostly full, but I don’t see Dunkel’s police cruiser. I call his cell and get voicemail. Another call to his office reaches a clerk who tells me Dunkel isn’t in today.

  “Maybe he ran off,” Natalie says.

  “Unlikely.” Dunkel has lived in Salma’s Hope his entire life, never left it as far as I know, not even for a vacation. I suppose that’s one reason he cares about his reputation here. This town is all he knows.

  I call Juno next, who tells me all is well at Goldilocks, other than Rene’s tardiness, which means she has to work the kitchen too, and Dale Buckley’s constant complaints about overcooked eggs. She keeps a watchful eye on Cora and Eli, more worried about Resnik’s thugs than the corrupt police chief.

  “We better find him fast,” I tell Natalie after the call. Dunkel wouldn’t run off, but I’m worried a coward like him might take another easy way out. He might end his own life. I can see Hoyt Dunkel doing that.

  We enter the station and ask for Dunkel’s deputy.

  Pleasant and friendly, Deputy Murphy knows my face like he knows everyone’s in Salma’s Hope. He’s even good with names, but not much else.

  Murphy greets us in the lobby, and I introduce him to Natalie. He remarks upon her apparent age by asking if she’s from the local summer camp, at which point I kindly remind him there hasn’t been a summer camp in town for fifteen years.

  While Natalie glares at him, I ask where Dunkel is.

  Murphy says the chief spent all day yesterday in his office, left around four in the afternoon, and hasn’t been back since. “Hoyt was stuck in a funk, wouldn’t talk to nobody. Called in this morning and said he needed a rest.”

  My unease grows. “We need to speak with him about an investigation. He knows it’s important.”

  “Try his mobile?”

  “Voicemail.”

  Murphy scratches his snow white beard. “Not like Hoyt to leave his phone off. Well, you might try him at home.”

  “Anywhere else he could be?”

  “Lemme think on that. Noggin’s not what it used to be.” Murphy hums as he thinks. “You know, Wade, law enforcement was simpler in my time. A whole lot less thinking required.” He chuckles.

  “It’s still your time. Please try to remember.”

  He snaps his fingers. “The Applebee’s on Randolph Street. Hoyt has lunch there e
very day at noon, rain or shine. That’s your best bet.”

  We thank Murphy and leave.

  “Your police department is understaffed,” Natalie says in the parking lot.

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  As we walk to my car, a red pickup drives down the road that fronts the station. My body tenses before I notice the truck’s model. It’s not what Resnik’s people drive. The truck makes a smooth turn at the next intersection and disappears.

  Natalie breathes. “Let’s not get paranoid.”

  “Right.”

  I drive us to Dunkel’s house in an upscale neighborhood near the waterfront, but his car isn’t in the driveway. No one answers the door. The curtains are drawn.

  We wait in my Mustang.

  “Maybe he went to the casino to warn Resnik about us,” Natalie says.

  “Possible. But what would Dunkel gain by that? What could he tell Resnik? That we found out he’s corrupt? That we have a recording of them? That would only make Resnik see him as a loose end. If Dunkel has any sense of self-preservation, he’ll stay the hell away from Resnik.”

  “Unless . . .”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Unless we’re not seeing the whole picture. Unless Dunkel lied to us like you said. He’s still hiding something.”

  “He is,” Natalie says.

  I kiss her. “You’re smarter than me.”

  “I’m just not hellbent on revenge, Asher. Also, I am smarter than you.”

  “Cuter too.”

  She slaps my hand away. “Don’t start.”

  Natalie suggests we check out the casino next.

  I want to drop her off at Goldilocks for safekeeping before searching for Dunkel on my own, but she says in a stern voice that we’re in this together. She’s not some dainty little girl I can drop off and pick up at will. I don’t decide where she goes.

  She wins this one. I offer another kiss in humble recognition that turns into a raw makeout session lasting five exquisite minutes. My cock rages for her before my breathless princess pushes me off.

  “Behave,” she says with her finger on my lips.

  Thirty minutes of good behavior later, we roll past the casino parking lot.

  Empty except for a few red pickups. The digital billboard sign at the entrance states that Lucky Cherries is closed for renovations until further notice. Resnik’s casino hasn’t been closed in two years, not since I came back home.