Bought by the Badman

by Hayley Faiman

  Each step I take causes my heart to beat a little faster. The closer to the room with the light I get, I pause. I notice that there is soft classical music playing from there as well. I close my eyes for a brief moment before I step into the doorway.

  There sitting in front of me is a woman. Her back is to me, and all I can see is her long dark hair that falls down her back. Her waist is small from what I can tell, and her legs look long. I grunt at the sight of her flashy high heels. After Fallon, I fucking hate flash.

  She slowly stands to her feet, a simple, yet expertly graceful move. Without turning around, I watch as she shrugs her shiny robe off, letting it fall into a pile on the floor. Then without a word, she reaches over and grabs a glass from the table. Only then, after taking the glass in her grasp does she turn around.

  I expected to see a pretty woman, naturally, no elite call girl could be anything less than pretty. However, I do not expect to see the most gorgeous woman that I have ever laid eyes on. Her face looks like it is practically bare of makeup, her lips pouty and perfect. Immediately, I imagine what they will look like wrapped around my cock. Her eyes are wide and dark, black from the looks of it.

  She doesn’t speak, but I watch as she slowly closes the distance between us. My eyes slowly drift down to her full tits spilling out of her practically sheer bra, her waist is small, enhanced by some fabric she has wrapped around it and she’s wearing flesh-toned thigh highs. Covered in lace, and wrapped up in a soft pink package, she looks like a fucking dream.

  Once she’s directly in front of me, I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t. She holds out her hand, the one with the whiskey glass, toward me. Wrapping my fingers around it, I let the tips graze her soft skin and watch as she quirks a brow at me. Her lips lift into a smirk at the move.

  Taking a sip of the whiskey, I’m surprised to find that it’s my favorite brand. Her smile widens at the obvious look of surprise on my face. Her hand wraps around my free one, and she gently tugs me over toward the window. I expect her to take me to the bed, but she bypasses it completely. I watch, mesmerized by each move she makes as she slides the glass door open, and leads me out onto her small balcony.

  I’m shocked that she would come outside so exposed, but I don’t voice my surprise. I stay quiet as she places both of her hands on the railing. Her ass is right in front of me, practically bare and perfectly shaped for my hand. She’s curvy, yet firm, and her body begs to be touched, kissed, and played with.

  My cock strains against my suit pants as I sip from my glass. The liquor relaxes me, and I’m grateful for it. I step closer to her, so close that my chest almost touches her back and I place one of my hands next to hers on the railing.

  “What’s your name, A rùnsearc?” I say against her hair.

  She inhales a deep breath, turning her head to the side, before she whispers, “Giovanna.” Her voice is sweeter and softer than I’d imagined.

  “Aidan,” I state, introducing myself.

  I hold my breath when she reaches her arm up and behind my head. Her fingers dive into the short hair at the back of my neck. I bend closer to her, my nose inhaling her soft vanilla scent when I do. She turns her head and her soft lips brush my jaw.

  “My time is yours, Aidan. Whatever you want is yours to take. Even if it means to do nothing but talk.”

  Moving my hand from the railing, I slide it around her waist, pressing it against her stomach and forcing her ass to nestle my hard cock. “Not a man who talks much, A rùnsearc,” I growl.

  She laughs, the sound soft, yet husky. “Good,” she breathes.

  GIOVANNA

  I’m nervous. I can’t remember the last time that I was nervous with a man. Maybe it was that handsome newly married extremely powerful high-profile politician who hired me years ago. Yes, I remember being nervous with him. He came with threats, secret service, and a high-profile life. I didn’t want to be caught, I never want to be caught.

  This man, Aidan, he makes me nervous but not because of threats, or his high prolific lifestyle. He makes me nervous because, for the first time, in a long time, I’m extremely physically attracted to a man in my bed.

  He doesn’t allow me to guide him to the bed, no, his moment of being a beta male is over. Leaving his empty whiskey glass on the outside railing, he takes a step back and slips his hand in mine. Together we walk back inside of my condo. He closes the door behind me, locking it. He then releases my hand and I watch as he draws the curtains.

  “Not an exhibitionist, then?” I ask, lifting a brow in question.

  He smirks, shaking his head once. “Never get caught with your pants down. Figuratively, or otherwise,” he chuckles.

  Placing my hands on his chest, I slide my fingers beneath his jacket, along his arms and slip it from his shoulders. He looks down at me, his cool blue eyes never leaving mine. They’re so light that they’re almost clear and combined with his dark hair, they are breathtaking. Any woman would find herself feeling not only flushed, but lucky to have those eyes pointed at them.

  Folding his jacket neatly, I place it on the modern lounger that I have in the corner of the room. I watch as he slips his shoulder gun holster off and places it on the lounger as well. He watches me, trying to gauge my reaction to his two handguns. I’m used to them. More used to them than he probably even realizes.

  Once his guns are removed, he begins to unbutton his shirt. I don’t allow that though. Madam Carmella taught me that you always remove your man’s clothes. It was my first lesson in seduction.

  Walking up to him, I gently take over his task, unbuttoning his white shirt. It’s crisp, as if he changed from the one that he’d worn all day long, just for the occasion. That thought makes me smile. Not all men will do that.

  Finishing unbuttoning his shirt, I slide it from his shoulders, much like I did his suit jacket. His chest is spectacular. He’s older than I am by at least ten years, maybe fifteen, but his body is one of a man in his late twenties. He’s built with muscle, not just muscle that was made in a gym, either. My fingertips have a mind of their own as they gently drag down his pecs to his stomach and down the ridges of his abs.

  Once I reach the waistband of his slacks, he wraps his hand around my wrist and gives me a gentle squeeze. “My turn, Giovanna,” he rasps.

  My eyes lift to his and the intensity in his gaze makes my heart race. He lifts his hand, placing his finger beneath my chin and tips my head back as he lowers his face.

  I think he’s going to kiss my mouth, but he doesn’t, his lips press against my jaw, then he slowly kisses down my neck, stopping at my collarbone. His finger leaves my chin and a chill runs throughout my body when his finger gently glides through my cleavage.

  His other hand slips around my back and expertly unhooks my pretty peach bra. I gently slide it from my arms and let it fall to the floor. “Lose the shoes,” he grunts.

  Without delay, I quickly slip the glittery sandaled high heels from my feet. Losing the four inches of height makes me even shorter compared to his tall frame. Now, instead of my gaze being at his neck, it’s at his chest. I tilt my head back to look up into his eyes and he gives me a small smile. “Better, Giovanna. I don’t care for overly flashy things,” he murmurs.

  “Noted,” I whisper.

  It is noted, too. I’ll be talking to Moriz about anything in my closet that’s flashy and ask him to exchange it all with classic, subtle pieces, which I tend to lean toward anyway. Aidan’s fingertips travel down my breasts, swirling around my nipples. Then he lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around my shoulder, he applies pressure and my knees immediately bend.

  Looking up at him from my new position on the floor, I wait. He unbuttons his pants, pulling the zipper down, and pushing his pants and underwear down to his mid-thigh. His cock juts out toward me, long, thick, and oddly extremely attractive. One would think that once you’ve seen a few dozen dicks, you’ve seen them all and they wouldn’t impress you anymore. That isn’t the case, Aidan’s impress
es me.

  “Hands behind your back, grab your elbows,” he orders.

  Lifting my gaze from his hard length, I look directly into his blue eyes. His eyes are harsher than they were just moments ago, his jaw clenches and there’s a look I can’t decipher that has crossed his face. I do as he asks, wrapping my hands around opposite elbows behind my back.

  Opening my mouth, I wait for him. He doesn’t have to instruct me on what he wants, or how he wants it. It is obvious to me. He needs to control me, use me, and possibly degrade me. It wouldn’t be the first time and it won’t be the last.

  Aidan’s cock slips past my lips and down my throat. I close my mouth around him, swallowing around his length. “Fuck,” he hisses. His hand flies to the back of my head and his fingers twist in my hair. “Suck my cock,” he growls.

  Without the use of my hands, I do as he demands. I suck his cock. I take him as far down my throat as I can, allowing him to slip farther with each bob of my head. I suck him deep, enjoying the way he fills me, and also reeling from the way his blue eyes intensify the closer to his orgasm that I bring him.

  “Christ,” he growls.

  His fingers tighten on the back of my head and he takes over. He stills my body before he begins to fuck my mouth. He’s hard, relentless, and almost ruthless. My eyes slide closed as I relax my body, my throat, and my mind.

  Breathing calmly in and out of my nose, my eyes begin to water with the loss of oxygen. Aidan doesn’t relent, and his hips thrust with power and speed that rivals any other man that I’ve been with.

  “Fuck, yes,” he growls as he sinks completely down my throat and stills.

  I feel his dick grow and then twitch as his release slides down my throat. I have saliva dripping down my chin, and tears dripping down my cheeks, but it doesn’t matter.

  His eyes look down at me, they roam over my face, his cock still buried inside of my throat. He takes a step back, his length slipping from my mouth. I watch as he lifts his pants over his hips. I’m afraid to move, awaiting my next instruction. He shakes his head, scrubbing his hand over his face.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. Fuck,” he curses.

  With a shaky hand, I reach for his forearm and wrap my fingers around him. “Why do you say that?” I ask. I’m confused. Doesn’t he know that I was brought here just for him? Kept in this condo, alone, for him?

  He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. I take the moment to stand and wipe as much spit, tears, and semen from my face as possible. “I’ve never done this. Fuck,” he growls.

  Lifting my hand, I chance wrapping my fingers around the side of his neck. His eyes meet mine, and they look feral and wild. I wonder if this is what he looks like when he’s fucking and loses control? If so, it’s hot as shit. “Done what? Had sex?” I ask with a smile.

  “Fucked a whore,” he states bluntly.

  I’m unable to hide my flinch from his words. I should be able to control myself. Carmella would be disappointed in me, but there’s something about this man calling me a whore, saying it like it’s a dirty thing, that makes me feel wrong. I’ve never felt wrong before.

  Carmella taught me that I was beautiful, desired, and treasured. Even if men took their frustrations out on me, that was a reflection of them, not me. I am valuable, I have always been valuable, if by nothing else than by my bloodline alone.

  I take a step back from him, allowing my hand to fall from his neck. He closes his eyes and I take that brief moment to collect myself. “You haven’t fucked me yet, Aidan. Why don’t you, then see how you feel? You may enjoy yourself,” I offer with a smile.

  He shakes his head, turning away from me, but he doesn’t go anywhere. His back is rising and falling with his breathing. I decide to quickly divest myself of the fancy lingerie. Naked, I walk to the bed, climbing in the middle and resting on my knees, spreading my legs and place my palms on my thighs.

  Slowly, he turns back around, his eyes flare, heat fills them. I watch as his length begins to harden in his slacks, again. “Giovanna,” he groans.

  Holding my palm out to him, I wait. I don’t speak, no words need to be said. This man doesn’t need to be seduced. No, he needs to be given permission. He has it. He quickly walks toward me, shoving his pants and kicking his shoes off as he goes. Lacing his fingers with mine, he crawls onto the bed.

  “I like you better like this,” he says.

  Tipping my head back, I ask, “Like this?”

  “Natural. Nothing on your body, on your feet. Your face natural, and your dark hair messy from my hand.”

  Lifting my other hand, I rest it on his bicep and give him a smile. “Then this is how you will always find me, Aidan.”

  “Always?” he asks, lifting a brow.

  Dragging my hand from his bicep, I use my index finger to gently trace his full lips. “Anytime you desire me, Aidan. This is how you will find me.”

  He bends down slightly, wrapping his large hands around the backs of my thighs and he pulls my knees from beneath me and chuckles when I’m flipped onto my back. I let out a small squeal at the sudden jolt of movement. Aidan’s nose slides alongside my own, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from mine, yet he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he fills me with his cock in one quick move.

  “You’re protected, and safe?” he rasps, his jaw clenched tightly.

  Lifting my hand, I twist my fingers in his hair, tugging on the short strands. “I am, Aidan, and while you’ll have me—I am only yours.”

  I have a feeling he doesn’t know that information. His head jerks, but he doesn’t respond to my statement. He pulls out, then slams back into me with a grunt. I lift my legs higher, pressing my shins against his ribcage. He slips a bit deeper inside of me and lets out a long moan when he does.

  With permission, mine, or his, or whoever’s he needed, Aidan fucks me. His eyes don’t meet mine the entire time. He stares just to the right of my head. He doesn’t think I notice, and I don’t let on that I do. It isn’t the first time a man couldn’t look me in the eyes while he was using my body, and I’m sure that it won’t be the last.

  I try to concentrate on anything but where his eyes are focused. I move with him, enjoying the way his body makes me feel. He shifts, wrapping his hand around my shoulder, holding me still for leverage. His thrust becomes harder, more erratic, and I can’t hold back my whimper as I climb toward my release.

  I’m close to my climax, my body able to find it almost every single time, even if it’s small. This time it isn’t going to be small though, I can tell that I’m going to shake in his arms and that my pussy is going to pulse around his thick cock.

  “Shit,” he shouts.

  Slipping my hand between us, I quickly bring myself to the edge. I moan, my pussy doing exactly what I’d anticipated, it clamps down around him and tries to keep his cock deep inside. He roars as his release travels through him and he fills me with his cum. My thighs continue to shake around him as his cock twitches inside of me.

  Aidan buries his face in my neck as his hips continue to move, gliding in and out of me. I wrap my arms around his back, afraid to speak and ruin the spell. We stay that way, wrapped in each other’s arms for a few breaths. I close my eyes and stupidly imagine that this is more than it is. I haven’t imagined such silly things in years, but Aidan makes me want to believe in more.

  A few minutes later, he leaves my body and I watch him stand. Again, he refuses to meet my eyes before he turns around. I silently watch him dress. Once he’s completely dressed, he walks away from me.

  “Make sure you take your key,” I call.

  He looks back at me, guilt marring his features. He doesn’t say anything, he just lifts his chin. A few minutes later, I hear my front door close, and then the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt locking.

  Tears flow down my face.

  I shouldn’t cry.

  I’ve known what I was, or what I was meant to be, at the age of thirt
een. I’ve cried my tears.

  Something was different tonight, Aidan was different. I hate it. I don’t know how I’m going to last being his exclusively. All I can hope is that he’ll tire of me soon and move on. I don’t know what that will mean for my future, but I know that my heart won’t be able to take anything akin to a long-term commitment with him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AIDAN

  Sitting up in bed, I reach for a cigarette and last night’s whiskey. Lighting my smoke, I slide out of bed, whiskey in hand, and walk out on my back patio. The sun is barely peeking out from the clouds and I blow out a puff of smoke into the air.

  Taking a sip of my drink, I let it burn as it slides down my throat. It reminds me of her, of Giovanna. I should have walked away as soon as I saw her, as soon as my cock hardened at the sight of her. She is trouble, trouble that I cannot afford.

  I don’t have time for a woman in my life. I have four children, crews of men to run, and a new brother-in-law to keep happy. Not to mention, I have a wife that I should have killed. However, I ache to go back to her as soon as possible. I finish my drink, then my morning smoke, before I head back inside to face the day.

  Once I’m showered, I slip on a dark gray suit, a black shirt, and a black tie. Slicking back my dark hair with gel, I take a look in the mirror. My blue eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be, my face has extra lines and wrinkles from stress, most of it caused by Fallon and my father. I wish I didn’t feel a hundred years old, instead of forty. I wish for a lot of fucking things.

  A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts, and I walk over to it, unlocking, and pulling it open. Standing in front of me is my oldest son. At twelve, he’s no longer a little boy, but growing into a man. His dark eyes remind me of Fallon’s, but his personality is all me.