Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance

by May Ball, Alice

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? That’s seriously your answer?”

  “Princess, I don’t know what the question is.”

  She pulled her lips between her teeth. “What… happened?”

  He frowned.

  Now she was angry. “Don’t play the innocent. That night in the hotel, what happened?”

  “We stopped at the Excelsior to save the long drive back that night, that’s all. What do you…” She saw him register. “You mean after we had drinks in the bar? What happened then?”

  She wanted to slap him. Beat on his chest. She remembered how good it felt, doing both of those things. Losing control like that. But she wouldn’t do it now. She had to know. And he knew she did. Dammit.

  “You mean, did we fuck?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Did I peel your soaking wet panties off and lick the honey out of your beautiful, peachy pussy?”

  Her voice scraped. “Yes.” She almost couldn’t hear herself.

  “Did I get the gorgeous, bare cheeks of your ass clenching in the palm of my hand while my big, hard cock pumped you to oblivion and beyond. That’s what you mean, right?”

  “I want to resist the pleasure of banging my fists on your chest and slapping you repeatedly around the face, Mr. Agostini, but you’re making it awfully hard.”

  “Then we’re even, because you’re making me awfully hard.”

  “You fucker. Are you going to force me?”

  “Is that what you like?” He stepped nearer. “To be forced?”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  “Princess, clearly I have no idea what you mean. Not now, or possibly ever.”

  Her heart pounded. Her cheeks prickled and flashes of heat rose in her breasts. His scent was so strong she almost couldn’t bear it.

  “I meant, will you force me…” He took her wrist and she gasped. “…to beat it out of you?” But her voice had tailed off and almost faded away.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to beat it out of you?” He held her waist. “Because that’s not me, Princess. I know you think I’m the ugly, brainless thug, but I’m not going to do anything against your will.”

  “It wouldn’t be against my will.” She’d had no idea she was going to say that. The grip of his hand tightened on her wrist. His hard body pressed into her soft breasts and her breath faltered.

  Inside, her raging anger spun with the rising heat of her own hunger, her pulsing desire. She hated him. Just being near him made her mad. And she wanted him. So badly.

  Princess’ hips brushed against Agostini’s leg. His thigh muscle clenched and she felt it roll against her aching mound. His eyes held her and he pulled her closer.

  Their wet mouths met. His lips devoured her. The whole of her body was driven by the contact of their lips. She felt herself opening to all of him through her mouth. Their breath joined in a deep, low, moan.

  As they kissed, Agostini raked his thumb over the side of her throat. Slid his hand down her neck, over her dress, until she rose as he cupped her breast. She drew closer to him as he squeezed. Her hardening nipple stung and throbbed.

  She gripped his thighs between hers. He held her neck. She grabbed his hair. His heat made her wild. His huge, hard cock strained through the front of his suit pants and throbbed against her.

  She grabbed at the rolling globes of his supple ass. Pulled with all her strength. Her clit, hot and hurting inside her soaking panties, scraped along the length of his stiffening cock.

  Like she was an angry kitten, he pulled her off. “Oh, no you don’t.” His grin was wicked. He flung her onto the couch.

  Shocked, she said, “I want your cock. I want you.” He stood over her, shaking his head slowly, his grin more arrogant and superior than ever and his eyes glowing. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, and she reached to grab his waist.

  He pushed her back against the soft couch. His voice was hard and thick. “You’ll get what I give you.” And then he moved toward her. He took her by the hips and pulled her down the couch.

  Lifting her skirt, his hungry eyes shone like a predator’s. When he looked up at her, his penetrating stare opened a floodgate within her. Her stomach fluttered and her hot breasts heaved.

  The sting of her nipples radiated through her and rivulets of sensation sprang into her stomach and down to the swelling ache in her clit, the throbbing need in her folds. Her thighs parted and she bit her lip.

  She shook violently as Agostini reached along the underside of her thigh, up her soft, cool flesh, up to her quivering ass. He licked his lips as he stared, fixed on her legs and her crotch.

  Then his eyes scoured up her trembling stomach. Her swelling, tingling breasts fluttered under his gaze and her breath caught in her chest. She flicked her tongue around her parting lips.

  Slowly, with his eyes holding hers, Agostini pulled her wet panties down, over her shuddering thighs. The cool air around her hot pussy made her shudder and moan. He moistened his lips again.

  “I’m going to make you come until you beg me for more.” He slipped her panties over her feet and off.

  “And then…” He held the frail fabric up to his nose and narrowed his eyes. “…Then I’ll make you come until you beg me to stop.” Her hips twitched. One by one, slowly, deliberately, he tipped off her shoes.

  He leaned over her to open the front of her dress and planted a deep, wet kiss between her hot breasts. He held her face as he kissed her mouth, hard, long, deep, and rough. He ran his hand down, into her bra.

  Princess’ body jolted at the touch of his hand on her skin. He scooped her breast from the cup and her nipple ached as it hardened. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger, then she whimpered as he pulled his mouth from hers.

  He sucked on her nipple, licked around her breast, and blew warm air. Her hips rolled and her back stretched and arced as his hand slid down her stomach, down to where her hot, aching mound flicked up, to where the tops of her soft thighs shuddered and her ass cheeks clenched.

  Down to where the tips of his fingers traced the crease of her cheeks, the tops of her thighs and his thumb grazed the top of her pubic bone. His hand flattened against her.

  Her legs clamped shut as her hips tipped up and her pelvis rocked. She could barely feel his hand on her lips, and her clit buzzed and ached to be touched. She moaned deep and long.

  Then, with his grin wider and more evil still, Agostini moved between her quivering thighs, dragging her legs apart. The cool of the air and the heat of his gaze made her swollen pussy lips throb.

  Waiting was agony as he looked into her eyes and bent his face to blow air between her thighs. Roughly, he dragged Princess’ ass to the edge of the couch. She pulled her fingers through her hair and down her neck.

  The throbbing ache in her clit was unbearable. Her lips trembled. But whatever movements she made, however she tilted her hips, whatever she did to pull him nearer, only drew that dark chuckle from him, only made him make her wait longer.

  Princess jolted as the hot, wet point of his tongue flicked the base of her clit. Then Agostini’s mouth took her. Her body surged as his lips closed over her mound. His breath ignited her and his tongue traced, too softly around the base, and then hood, of her buzzing stem.

  He lifted his head to tell her in a low rasp, “You taste wonderful.”

  He fluttered his tongue along the outsides of her folds, then rammed its length into her. The tip dragged up at the front of her opening, to pop out and tease her clit again. At the same time, his bottom lip pressed and parted her wings.

  Again he slipped his tongue into her. Wide, wet, hot, and impossibly long, he plunged it between her lips, into her walls and snaked it up, up so far it found the folds that covered her trigger spot.

  She bucked and her back arced as he barely penetrated the folds. Then she felt the rumble of his chuckle as he shot
back to press at the base of her screaming clitoris. His hot hands cupped her ass. His thumbs pressed a rhythm at the tops of her thighs. As he licked. And sucked.

  Princess’ hands flew between her legs and her fingers clasped at his head. That just made him take away his hands to brush hers out of the way. And he lifted his head. She felt the cold without him.

  He looked up at her from between her open thighs and growled as he said, “I know what I’m doing.” Her pelvis thrust at him. He said, “You. Just. Wait.”

  And he made her wait—two, perhaps even three agonizing seconds—as he licked his lips and held her firm with his smoldering eyes. Then he chuckled again as he lifted her ass, pulling her pussy back to his greedy mouth.

  The thought that she shouldn’t be allowing him—demanding him—into her in this way, or any other way, drifted around in her head like a vapor trail, like a wreath of smoke. She felt and heard his chuckle, like he was reading her mind.

  She needed his tongue. His breath. His face. His hands. Inside, slow currents swelled and gathered, mounting in steps, rising in waves. His tongue flew inside her. His fingers held her thighs and her ass, and gently parted and turned them in rhythm.

  He read her rise and fall so perfectly, his tongue always a beat ahead, his hands a step behind. Her thighs and buttocks clenched. The fearsome, snaking drive of his muscular tongue stirred her, drew her, pushed her on.

  Sparkling nerves and sinews all through her lit and flashed. Sporadic at first—at the urge of his licking, blowing, sucking—the pace inside her rose and gathered. All of her spine stretched and her hands clasped as the swelling tides heaved from one plateau to the next.

  She clawed in her hair. She squeezed her throat, dragged her fingers down to her convulsing chest, pulled on her nipple.

  The merciless lash of his tongue strengthened and slowed and his fingers slipped in the cheeks of her ass. Her stomach rolled, and as he sucked, she felt a tiny light within her rising fast in the midst of the storm.

  Small, silent, like a distress flare in a massive, swirling ocean storm, she knew that as it slowed and reached its height, it would burst and set off the chain reaction that brewed and boiled below.

  As his thumb touched the very back of her opening and his tongue drilled like a tattoo needle on her G-spot, the waves inside her paused at the brim, too big to contain, too heavy to bear, too pregnant to hold back.

  And burst.

  Princess gushed into his mouth, moaning and shouting. Her legs and arms thrashed. Toes curled and fingers clawed. At what, she didn’t know or care.

  Her eyes jammed shut and her thighs clamped his head as she bit her arm to seal her mouth, moaning with all her might.

  She curled into a ball and sobbed, grabbing him by the hair to pull him to her. Again, he fended her hand away. He undid the rest of her dress. Gently, he stroked her stomach, caressed and squeezed her breasts.

  He massaged her neck and shoulders as he rolled her over easily and removed her bra.

  His voice was a hard whisper. “You have the most fabulous ass.”

  Looking over her shoulder, her own voice was dreamy, like it floated. “Don’t bullshit me. You have dancers and supermodels all the fucking time, Mr. Agostini.” She had the energy to lift herself onto her elbows, but only just.

  “I do,” he said. “Their bodies are like dolls. Like toys. You have the body of a real woman.”

  “Mm,” she said, turning her head back and allowing it to drop forward as he massaged her back. “Not many people fly to Switzerland to get themselves made over into one of those.”

  “You’re right.” He slid his hands down her sides and she jolted as they reached the front of her hips, gripping as he pulled them down her thighs. “Shows what idiots people can be.”

  As he ran his hands up the insides of Princess’ thighs, her hips convulsed. He stopped at the top. She trembled. His fingers reached down. Then up to her mound.

  “Oh,” she breathed as he massaged above her hood, around the outside of it, along her wet opening and up to her ass. Then, slowly, back again. He held her cheek and squeezed as his fingers slipped in to press on the back of her pussy, then to press up and spread her lips.

  She wanted to move her thighs. He stopped her. “I’ll say when you can do that.” A warm river of sensation sprang up and rushed through her. His fingers pressed downwards, either side of her lips, massaged at the sides of her hood. Pulled to spread it.

  Her little clit was pushed out, then in. Then out and in again. His fingers circled the wetting throb and darted, from the back to the front, inside and out. Then in, and in, and in. Her back arched, pushing her ass up.

  Her ass cheek smarted as he smacked her, hard. With her head hanging, she said, “Can’t I stick my ass up?”

  She heard the grin in his voice. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind me spanking it.” She decided she didn’t mind. His fingers dove deeper as she moaned and stuck her ass up higher. She shook as he spanked her again in exactly the same spot.

  “That hurt,” she groaned.

  “You like it?”

  “No,” she said. But she stuck it higher for him to spank again.

  Her breasts dragged against the couch, bouncing as she rocked, scraping her sore nipples against the leather. The couch seemed to be wet almost all over, and that made it sticky.

  He let her part her thighs, but only a little, as he plunged two fingers into her. She tensed and moaned and she quickly drenched herself and his hand as he moved faster and deeper.

  “Oh!” Tremors shook her stomach and her breasts prickled and swelled. Her head fell forward onto her folded arms as her shoulders dropped. Only her ass was up and the tingles that ran up and down her thighs spread from her stomach to her nipples and her hot chest.

  Relentlessly, her walls were shoved apart by his invading fingers, refusing to let up however much she whimpered and moaned. Soon it would be unbearable, soon she would have to beg him to take his hand away. Soon. Soon. But not now.

  “Now!” She heard herself and then she couldn’t stop. “God, yes. Yes!” His fingers burst wider. She thought it was all of them, but she couldn’t tell.

  And she couldn’t care, either. He drove on and on to what she thought was the brink as she felt the floodgates swing open, but it was only the rushing, gushing river that led to the dam.

  And when the dam burst, it was only the huge, glacial lake that flowed to the waterfall. She shouted and writhed and clenched and released going over, only to splash and crash on the impossibly fast ocean current.

  She fell, and still he wouldn’t give up. Her legs and arms twitched and her wide-eyed wet face begged, but he pummeled her pussy until she cried out again and the whole of her shook from deep within.

  After a short lull in her core, there was a retreating, a pause, and then it was like she was split wide by a volcanic pump of molten magma. Her juices gushed freely and she gave up as the universe imploded.

  Agostini said, “Perfect.” And finally, he let her rest, exhausted and unsatisfied.

  He sat on the couch by her. Stroked her hair and her back.

  “You really are beautiful. I’m sure that you know that.”

  With one partly opened eye, she looked to see if she could spot sarcasm on his face. Still, it was a nice thing to say.

  She said quietly, “You do a fair impression of a human being, you know.”