The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  He grins. ‘I have no idea. I ordered the deluxe picnic basket from my local delicatessen.’

  ‘That’ll do,’ I say with a grin.

  ‘What time will you be bringing Tori back?’

  I laser my aunt with an I’m not twelve look.

  ‘Just kidding,’ she says with a laugh.

  Both Cash and I pretend to laugh with her.

  ‘Right, we should be off,’ Cash says.

  ‘I’ll call you later,’ I tell my aunt.

  ‘Please do,’ she says with emphasis, as she walks us to the front door. She remains at the doorway and watches as we walk down the drive. There is at least half-a-foot between us.

  I smile up at him. ‘So how did you find me?’

  ‘Do you remember answering a little question called next-of-kin on your employee form?’

  I nod. ‘I thought that information was personal and confidential.’

  ‘I slipped into that category last night when I was eating you out. Now might be a good idea to wave at your aunt, Buttercream.’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ I say as I turn around to wave jauntily at my aunt.

  My aunt waves back.

  When I turn around Cash too is waving at my aunt.

  He opens the car door and I slip into the black interior. Inside it is all sleek lines and so super masculine, I feel a bit like Naomi Watts when she was carried in King Kong’s oversized, leathery palm.

  ‘Fancy,’ I say.

  ‘It’s always nice when a girl is impressed by your … equipment,’ he says with a predatory grin.

  ‘Do you know I sometimes fantasize about slapping you?’

  He laughs and guns the engine. The roar is incredibly Alpha. I get why these kinds of cars are standard issue for successful men the world over. It’s a good ole my-roar-is-louder-than-yours chest beating competition.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tori

  ‘Where’s your security?’ I shout over the noise of the engine.

  ‘Let’s just say they’re still somewhere on the M25 driving in a standard issue Range Rover SUV and hoping I get to where I’m going to in one piece so they don’t have to look for a new employer tomorrow,’ he says flashing me a wide grin.

  ‘Why would you do something so selfish and juvenile?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in a bubble. I can’t go anywhere like a normal person. When I am in the States I can’t even fucking walk to my car, I have to run surrounded by beefcakes in suits. Today I wanted to just be any guy to take a girl on a date.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

  ‘Pennyhill Park,’ he says.

  ‘Very posh,’ I say.

  Minutes later we turn into an impressive set of black and gold gates. The grounds are beautiful with mature trees and hundreds of rabbits running around. The winding road takes us to a stupendous mansion house. Cash cuts the engine.

  ‘Wow! This is amazing,’ I exclaim.

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ he says as he hits a button. The door slides upwards and I get out and look around me in awe.

  ‘I thought we were having a picnic.’

  ‘We are. In our hotel room.’

  He holds out his car keys to a liveried valet and tells him about the picnic basket that needs to be brought in. Then he holds his arm out to me. With a small smile I take it. I feel as if I am in a dream. How is it possible that this is happening to me? A small voice jeers. ‘Better enjoy it, Buttercream. It’s all based on a pack of lies and it’s going to come crashing down on your head very soon.’

  ‘What?’ Cash asks as we stand in the grand stone portico.

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, you did. You said no.’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t mean to. Just overwhelmed by the beauty of this place, I guess,’ I lie quickly.

  As we walk into the grand reception with its massive stone fireplace, I have the first inkling of what life is like for celebrities. The wide smiles, the excessive politeness, the starry eyes, the cannot do too much for you attitude. We are shown to the Heywood Suite, which is lavishly furnished in opulent fabrics.

  ‘This is the only suite with its own private terrace,’ the bellboy tells us as he opens the door to the terrace. I step out and the view over the grounds takes my breath away. I stand outside admiring the lush greenery while Cash tips the bellboy and closes the door. He comes back out to stand behind me.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  I turn around to face him. He has taken off his leather jacket and the magnetism of the man hits me like a brick wall.

  ‘What’s not to like? It’s unquestionably beautiful.’

  ‘Apparently it is very popular with honeymooners and people celebrating special occasions like us,’ he says.

  ‘Is this a special occasion?’

  ‘Is there any reason why it shouldn’t be?’ he asks softly, advancing on me. I know I keep saying it, but he really is very hunky. ‘Unless you’ve got some deep dark secret you’re hiding from me?’ he finishes.

  I feel the color draining from my face. ‘Why would you say a thing like that?’ I ask. My voice is high pitched and panicked.

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me,’ he says quietly.

  I take a nervous backward step. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Like a boyfriend maybe?’

  The relief that pours into my body is indescribable. Oh, thank god. I’m not going to be horribly exposed miles away from anywhere, after all. Elated, I bat the air with my right hand as if I am swatting away a fly, or he has just expressed the most insane idea I’ve ever heard. ‘Me? Boyfriend? I mean, Pffff.’

  He looks at me curiously and I realize that it is possible my reaction might have been a bit over the top.

  I take a deep breath. ‘What I meant to convey is that it’s not special because we’re just foolin’ around. Right?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re just foolin’,’ he says as he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He carries me off to the bedroom and throws me still squealing and protesting onto an enormous bed.

  ‘Sex in the afternoon in a hotel room? It’s a bit decadent even for you, isn’t it?’ I laugh.

  He grabs my right foot, pulls my black sandal off, and throws it behind him. ‘It’s backbreaking work, but someone has to do it,’ he says, grabbing my other foot.

  I unbutton my jeans. ‘Don’t put your back out on my account,’ I say as I wriggle out of them.

  ‘My cock would never forgive me if I didn’t step up to the job,’ he replies, grabbing the hems of my jeans and tugging them clear off my legs before he chucks them somewhere behind him.

  I grasp the edges of my top and, lifting slightly off the bed, I pull it over my head. ‘You talk as if your cock has a mind of its own.’

  ‘Rule number one. All cocks have a mind of their own. Any man tells you otherwise, he’s a lying, son-of-bitch fuckboy,’ he says, popping my bra open, and flinging it south.

  I hook my fingers into the waistband of my panties. ‘What’s a fuckboy?’

  ‘Fuckboy: typically, a man who refers to his conquests as his body count, expects sex after buying you a cheap meal, messages you, or worse turns up at your place during booty call hours—’

  ‘Excuse me,’ I interrupt, completely nude. ‘Didn’t you turn up in my bed during booty call hours?’

  He kicks off his shoes, his eyes twinkling. ‘That doesn’t count. I dug my seduction trap well before twelve when official booty call hours begins.’

  ‘I’m sure hell will freeze over before anyone mistakes you for a fuckboy,’ I say sarcastically.

  As a response he pulls his black T-shirt over his head and it’s like a magic trick. Just like that he is a whole lot hotter. Molten hot. Suddenly I don’t want to talk anymore and he’s won the discussion. Shocking how just the sight of this man can have my whole body in an uproar like this. Until I met him, I can count on my hands the amount of times I’ve had sex.
Now I can’t get enough.

  I feel lust spreading in my veins like an electric current. Arousal courses through my body. Between my legs I start leaking. I stare at the tattoos, the muscles, the utter deliciousness of Cash Hunter as he takes his belt off and yanks his jeans down his muscular thighs. His boxer shorts are terribly tented.

  I crawl to the edge of the bed. Extending one hand out I hook one finger into his boxers. Holding his eyes, I slowly pull at the material. He comes with a wolfish growl. When he is close enough I sit on my haunches and drag the black and white striped material down his muscular thighs. When it reaches his knees it becomes slack and falls of its own accord to pool around his feet.

  He is buck naked.

  I cup his heavy sack, as soft as the finest kidskin with one hand. His testicles are two perfect ovals. With my other hand, I grasp the base of his erect cock. It is only inches away from my mouth and it looks monstrously big and angry. Green/blue veins dance over the pale sienna surface. He stares down at me with an intense, sensual look in those beautiful green eyes. I move my head forward and wrap my lips around the satiny soft skin.

  He groans and shoves his hands into my hair and pulls me against him, forcing my jaw open, forcing me to take his thick cock head deeper.

  ‘Oh god, yes,’ he encourages.

  I start sucking him wildly, furiously bobbing my head back and forth, taking more and more of his hardness in my mouth with each trip down his shaft. I nearly gag, but I keep going, determined to swallow all of him, until he suddenly pulls me off his cock. In an instant he grabs me and throws me shocked on the bed.

  I watch him roll a rubber on to his tool with wide eyes.

  The weight of his body settles on me, pushing apart my thighs. Immediately I spread my legs wide and push my hips up in an open invitation as I lock my legs around his hips.

  ‘Yes,’ he growls as the hot head of his cock finds my pussy and enters. I feel every inch of his cock as it slowly slides into my tight, slick opening. My muscles clench around the thick intrusion. He lowers his body on top of me. The sensation of his body hair rubbing against my breasts and stomach as he moves over me sets my skin on fire.

  The deliciously male smell of him makes me feel light-headed as he jams deeper and deeper into me until he is balls deep. Slow thrusts, fast strokes, sliding deep, stopping shallow, he goes on and on, rocking my body until I feel my teeth sink viciously into his shoulder.

  He slams hard into me. ‘You gonna fucking come? Yeah?’ he snarls.

  I keep the death grip on his body as the glow inside me becomes a raging inferno. While my arched body jerks and convulses, his rhythm suddenly falters and he cranes his neck and cries, ‘Tori.’

  He rolls off my limp body and lays at my side, staring at the ceiling. Our breathing evens out slowly.

  ‘I keep getting whiffs of the smell of apple,’ he says lazily.

  Shit. I shift slightly. ‘Er … I think I saw an apple tree outside the balcony.’

  He turns his head and fixes me with his emerald eyes. ‘It’s coming from you, isn’t it?’

  ‘I may have accidentally sprayed some apple scented room freshener on my wrists, but I washed it off, so it can’t really be me.’

  He takes my wrist and smells the inside deeply. ‘I think you’ve just ruined all apples for me.’ He stares at me. ‘I’m going to get a hard on every time I see one.’

  I look at the bruise my bite has given him and swallow hard. What is it about this man? He just has to look at me and I’m gone. It’s unfinished business swirling between us all over again. I think he might have been about to bend his head and kiss me, when I fart. A surprisingly loud one. I feel my eyes widen and see his do the same. We stare at each other for a few seconds. Did I have broccoli at lunch? Thank god, no.

  Then my mouth opens and I ask, ‘Was that you?’

  His eyes widen even more. ‘No. I thought that was you.’

  I shake my head slowly, my face is rapidly becoming redder and redder and his eyes are becoming more and more sparkly.

  ‘That is some cold-blooded shit to deny,’ he says.

  I shrug. ‘So what you gonna do about it?’

  ‘There’s only one thing to do,’ he says mock seriously.

  ‘What?’ I ask reluctantly.

  ‘I’ll have to identify it by smell,’ he says, and lifts one corner of the duvet and smells the air coming out.

  I take a quick surreptitious sniff too and there is no smell coming out. Everyone knows noisy farts don’t smell. ‘Well?’ I ask.

  ‘Inconclusive. I’m going to have to smell the source of the smell.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ I blurt out and start wriggling away. He catches me by my upper arms and half lies on me, trapping me completely.

  ‘You have a choice. I smell your butt or I make you confess.’

  I giggle. ‘Make me confess.’

  I thought judging by the smoldering look in his eyes he was going to kiss me or do something sexy to me. It never crosses my mind that his idea of making me confess is to tickle me. He is very good at it. He tickles me until I am curled up into a ball and laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and I am gasping for breath.

  ‘It was me. It was me,’ I gasp finally, unable to take another second more.

  He stops tickling me and kisses the tip of one breast. ‘See how much better life is when you tell the truth.’

  I become cold inside. Oh God! If only he knew. Everything about me is a lie. I touch the hard plane of his cheekbone. ‘I didn’t mean to lie. I was just messing with you.’

  He looks at me curiously. ‘I know that.’

  I smile. ‘Just wanted you to know.’

  He rubs his chin. ‘Are we talking about the same thing here?’

  ‘Yeah. Did you say you brought a picnic basket?’

  He vaults off the bed and I watch his long tanned back and tight butt as he pads completely naked out of the room. I close my eyes. It’s OK. It’s OK. It’s just a fling. He’ll lose interest soon and no one will be the wiser.

  I sit up.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cash

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXSpXO4N-tI

  - Down in The DM,

  The Art of The Hustle

  By the time I come back with the basket she has pulled a large bath towel around her body and tucked one end between her breasts. It looks hot as fuck. I stand at the doorway and stare at her. Tendrils of gold hair fall in twists around her face and neck. The girl is too damn cute for my liking.

  ‘What?’ she asks, her mouth red and swollen from sucking my cock so long and hard. Just thinking about her lips wrapped around my dick makes me go hard again.

  Fuck. This is going to be a problem.

  I’ve never wanted a woman so completely, even after banging her this many times. I got rules, man. Normally by now my cock and I would already be finding a way out. Saying our goodbyes in the most diplomatic way possible, which we have discovered doesn’t actually exist. Goodbye has the unfortunate tendency of making eminently rational girls turn in the blink of an eye into raving psychos. My experience: the sooner you make your exit the better it goes down.

  I walk up to the bed, put the basket on it, walk around the side, then up to her. I start unbraiding her hair. Don’t be nobody you ain’t. That’s my motto, but fuck me if this shit doesn’t feel real. I fluff her mermaid hair out.

  ‘That’s better,’ I say softly.

  She stares at me with big eyes.

  The mood in the room changes.

  ‘Are you an angel?’ I ask. Fuck, look at me being cheesy.

  ‘No, but thank you for the awkwardness you have created,’ she says, biting her bottom lip.

  ‘Did you think about me last night after I left?’ I ask.

  ‘No,’ the barefaced liar says.

  ‘I did. I fantasized about what you would look like with your ankles by your ears’.

  She flushes bright red.

  ‘You’ve gone an interesting
shade of red,’ I mock.

  She covers her heated cheeks with her palms. ‘What do you expect? It’s a graphic image.’

  ‘What the hell? You’ve just sucked my dick and I’ve just fucked you senseless.’

  She drops her eyes. ‘It’s different when it’s done in the heat of the moment.’

  I part the towel.

  ‘Cash,’ she protests, but not too hard.

  ‘Open your legs. I wanna peek.’

  Slowly her thighs open to reveal her blonde thatch and underneath, wet folds of pretty pink flesh. Ain’t nothing sweeter than a fully swollen pussy after a good pounding. My cock twitches. In my world you get addicted to drink, drugs and pussies. Notice I said pussies. Always plural. Why settle for one when you can have them all? But she’s blindsided me, big time. I can’t keep away. One look at her pussy and I want to fuck her again and again and fucking again.

  ‘Slide your finger in,’ I tell her.

  ‘Stop being such a pervert,’ she says and closes her legs with a snap.

  ‘Go on, be wild for me. Play with yourself.’

  She opens her legs slowly. Thick honey is oozing out of her. She places her palm on the gold triangle of hair and slowly moves her finger around and around her slick clit. She is so aroused it is protruding like a little white pearl from its hood of flesh. Her sex is actually throbbing.

  I reach out and push my finger into her opening.

  She gasps.

  I push it in and out of her.

  Her breathing becomes faster and I shove two fingers into her and hers start circling her clit faster. I watch her laying there pleasuring herself and it is a glorious sight. I stick a third finger inside her, pump her hard until her whole body arches back.

  At that point I can bear it no more and I push her back on the bed and plunge hard and deep into her. Her moan is a beautiful sound, and I feel the blood surging and pulsating in my veins as I ram my entire length into her. I don’t stop until we both explode.

  ‘Fuck, we didn’t use any protection,’ she says, startling me.

  I frown. What the fuck was I thinking of? I can’t believe I did that. I’ve never gone bareback with anybody.

  ‘Are you on any kind of protection?’ I ask urgently, lifting my sweat drenched body upwards.