The Bad Boy Next Door

by Lexxie Couper

  He took savage possession of my mouth, his tongue and teeth wild. He fisted his hands in my hair with painful pleasure, and before I could stop the whimper of unexpected rapture vibrating in my throat, he flipped me onto my back and pinned me to the floor.

  All without surrendering ownership of my lips.

  In fact, his kiss turned hungrier.

  Hotter.

  His hips ground to mine, his rigid cock damn near penetrating my pussy. My heart leapt into frenzied life, slamming into my throat as his thighs slid over mine. He swept his tongue into my mouth, over and over, seeking out mine.

  I want to say I bucked him off and scrambled away. I want to say I lashed out at him with my feet. He was my bastard bad-boy neighbor, after all, and I was not in the market for the kind of insanity being kissed by him would bring.

  I want to say all those things, but I can’t.

  A need crashed through me so powerful, so absolute I couldn’t resist it. A ravenous craving to surrender to the unexpected pleasure consuming me at Lucas’s rough domination of my body and mouth.

  I whimpered again, louder this time, and shoved my hips upward, aching to feel his hard cock part my folds and slam into me. I clawed at his back, lashed at his tongue with my own.

  He groaned in return, dragging one hand from my hair and down over my shoulder until he reached my breast.

  He closed his fingers over its swell, rubbing his palm at my distended nipple, moving his mouth to my jaw, my throat, up to my ear.

  “Ronnie,” he rasped against my temple. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  I arched beneath him, in part because his fingers had found my nipple with pinching flicks that detonated wicked sensations in my very center, in part because I desperately wanted to feel more of his cock sliding past my pussy lips.

  “I don’t…” I began, but he silenced me with a kiss more hungry and savage than the first.

  And as before, I had no hope of denying how my body reacted to it. How every fiber in my body craved more.

  I’d never had this kind of overwhelming, intoxicating, body-rocking reaction to a kiss before. This was nothing like anything I’d experienced before.

  Wild. Animalistic. Carnal. Insane.

  I never wanted it to stop.

  But it did.

  Lucas tore his lips from mine and, as my raw moan of dismay filled the room’s silence, he lowered his head to my breast and claimed my nipple with his mouth. Sucked on it.

  “Oh God!” I burst out, gouging at his back with my nails. “Oh God, Lucas.”

  He didn’t stop. I didn’t want him to.

  Instead, he shoved his hand down between our naked bodies—now slicked with perspiration—and plunged a finger into my sex.

  “Fuck!” I bucked beneath him, thrusting my hips up into the exquisite invasion. “Fuck, Lucas, what are you—”

  He crushed my lips again with his, smothering my exclamation in a kiss I didn’t even bother to resist. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to fuck me with his finger.

  I wanted him to fuck me with his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

  I wanted him to completely take me in every way.

  Which should have unnerved me to no end.

  Instead, it drove me to roll my hips harder to his, taking his finger deeper into my pussy.

  He growled into my mouth, his tongue battling mine as he stroked my G-spot.

  Concentrated pleasure sheared through me. I pulled away from the kiss, incapable of holding back my cry, needing to let it tear from me as what felt like an orgasm began to throb in my core.

  Oh God, I was about to come.

  I was about to come and my asshole neighbor was the one responsible for it.

  How did this happen? How?

  Lucas stroked his finger faster inside me, fisted his other hand in my hair again and ravished my throat with branding bites, working his way down to my breasts once more.

  He licked and bit and sucked my nipples, first one and then the other, his erection rubbing high against my inner thigh.

  “Oh God, Lucas,” I groaned, tossing my head side-to-side. “I don’t…I don’t…”

  Want you to stop.

  Understand.

  Both fit. Both ended the sentence perfectly. Both didn’t come close to describing my state of mind. My mind was lost to the pleasure of his touch. My body was equally adrift, burning up with the wicked sensations consuming me.

  I erupted in an orgasm more brutal than any I’d had before. It tore through me, a potent, fierce wave of concentrated pleasure that swept aside any control or decorum I had. I cried out, arching and writhing and bucking beneath him.

  And as I did, Lucas yanked his fingers from my pussy and replaced them with his tongue, penetrating my seam with wild strokes, licking at my clit with flicking stabs.

  Another orgasm crashed through me. I bucked again, every fiber in my body thrumming with wave after wave of incredible pleasure.

  I clawed at the top of his head, at the floor, my heels skidding and slipping on the polished wooden surface as I tried to ram my sex harder to his amazing mouth.

  He growled against my flesh, grabbing my butt and jerking my hips upward, his tongue on my clit as he pulled my lower body, my back off the floor.

  I whimpered, my shoulders driving against the floorboards, my thighs suddenly draped over his broad shoulders.

  For a moment, a split second of rational thought had me wondering how he could be so rough, so strong, when he was so beaten, and then he nipped at my clit, and I couldn’t think of anything else at all except how good it felt.

  My third orgasm tore a wild, groaning cry from me. I whimpered his name, over and over, undone by it all.

  He didn’t stop fucking me with his mouth. Not until I rolled my head and slapped my hand weakly on the floor, too drained to do more. “Lucas,” I panted. “I can’t…no more…”

  He removed his mouth from my pussy and captured my inner thigh with his lips, sucking hard on the flesh there.

  I cried out, arching once more, stunned at how I could still experience pleasure after such a mind-shattering orgasm. But I did. Lots of pleasure. As he branded my thigh with his mouth, I moaned and whimpered his name.

  “Lucas…oh God, Lucas…”

  He lifted his head from my thigh, blew a fine stream of air on my bruised flesh and then crawled up my body. Covered it with his.

  His thick, hard cock nudged at my pussy lips. Parted them.

  My breath caught in my throat. I froze beneath him, clinging to his shoulders, my thighs hugging his legs, our groins completely aligned.

  I knew what was going to happen next.

  I knew it was wrong.

  I knew I had to stop him.

  I knew all these things.

  Knowing, however, meant nothing at that point in time.

  All that my brain, my body, my heart hung on, was the exquisite sensation of his cock inching into my sex. His flesh penetrating mine.

  “They will never hurt you, Ronnie,” he growled, his face bare inches from mine, his fingers tangling in my hair, his cock parting my folds more. “I will kill them before they—”

  His eyes unfocussed. Just like that, his eyes lost all clarity. The lucidity vanished from his stare and, with a sharp groan, the rigidity left his body and he slumped on top of me.

  Motionless.

  Chapter 2

  It took me longer than it should to wriggle out from beneath him. I was worried. No, more than worried. I was scared.

  Scared he had life-threatening internal injuries that were surely killing him.

  Scared of the raw desire for him crashing through me like a tsunami.

  Scared of what he’d said before he’d fallen unconscious. Who will never hurt me? Why would he think someone wanted to hurt me?

  It was too much to handle.

  Finally free of his limp weight, I snatched up the phone and called 911. I had no other choice. I had to do what I thought was best, and what
I thought was best right at that very second in time was keeping him alive.

  Dispatch answered on the fifth ring—yes, I counted them. It was a way to try to make myself calm down and not panic that I may be doing the wrong thing.

  I asked for an ambulance, gave my address and told them to hurry, all without taking my stare off Lucas where he lay motionless on the floor.

  When I was asked what was the nature of the emergency, I answered as honestly as I could. “My neighbor has been beaten up. He’s unconscious on my bedroom floor and his injuries are really bad.”

  When I was asked for his name, I didn’t give it. Instead, I urged them to hurry.

  I had no idea what was going on with Lucas, but I figured it was better not to give his name out. Not on the phone.

  “Your name is?”

  “Ronnie,” I answered, staring at Lucas. Shit, was he still breathing? Was he? “Hurry up and get the fuck here.”

  I disconnected before I could be asked anything else that might make Lucas furious with me. As it was, I suspected he was going to kick my ass when he regained consciousness.

  Tossing my phone onto the bed, I crouched down beside him and pressed my fingers gently to his throat.

  His pulse beat against my fingertips in a weak throb. So faint, so slow it scared me all over again.

  “If you die on me, Lucas Pratt,” I muttered, “I’m going to be pissed at you.”

  I straightened to my feet. I had to get some clothes on before the paramedics arrived.

  I’d just pivoted on my heel to hurry away when a tight grip clamped around my ankle.

  Stupidly, I let out a yelp.

  Heart smashing up into my ears, I spun back to Lucas, my head roaring.

  “Don’t…trust…” he mumbled, eyes closed, lips barely moving. His grip on my ankle grew slack.

  And then he was silent and motionless again, his hand falling completely free of my ankle.

  I stood frozen. Had I thought I was scared before?

  Don’t trust? Don’t trust who?

  What the fuck was going on?

  Who the fuck was he?

  “Lucas?”

  He didn’t stir.

  I crouched down again, searching once more for a pulse.

  There. Weak, but there.

  “You’re scaring the shit out of me, Lucas,” I scolded him on a whisper before straightening and hurrying for my closet.

  No tight grip halted my progress this time. No mumbled warnings.

  I snatched the first pair of shorts and tank my hands encountered. Yanked them on. I could do without a bra and panties. Finding them and putting them on would only slow me down, and I needed to…to…what?

  I don’t know. Get back to Lucas’s side so I could prod him if he stopped breathing? Get him ready for the paramedics?

  Don’t trust…

  Lucas’s ominous, unfinished warning scraped at what little calm sanity I still possessed—not a lot, I’m ashamed to admit.

  Pulling a steadying breath, I rubbed my hands on my butt and studied my unconscious neighbor. I noted his chest still rose and fell ever so slightly with breath.

  Good. That was good.

  Now, I had to do something about him being naked.

  Where are his clothes?

  I ran a quick gaze around my bedroom but couldn’t find sight of them. Maybe the living room?

  A heavy pressure clamped my own chest at the thought of leaving Lucas alone. Where he was going to go when out of my sight, I didn’t know.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered, pointing my finger at his inert form before stepping over him and almost running from my room.

  Every second I spent searching for his clothes in the rest of the house felt like a bomb was ticking in my gut. My parents were off on a cruise, so I had the house to myself for the next two months. Interestingly enough, Lucas’s mom and stepdad were on that same cruise.

  There was no sign of Lucas’s clothes anywhere. Not in the living room, the kitchen or the spare bedroom I used as an office-slash-dumping ground for stuff I didn’t know what to do with. Like I needed an office. Yeah, right.

  What I did find was the window above the kitchen sink open, pushed up high enough to allow a man—a big, muscular man—to climb through.

  I stared at the window, my pulse pounding in my ears. Lucas knew the spare key to our house was kept in the potted azalea. Just like I knew where his family’s spare set was hidden. If he knew where the key was, why hadn’t he used it?

  Don’t trust…

  I hurried over to the window and slammed it shut. For some reason, it being open made me nervous.

  Turning back toward the direction of my bedroom, I screamed.

  And then I pressed my hand to my mouth and almost buckled over with relief.

  Lucas stood before me.

  He’d wrapped himself in the blanket from my bed. His eyes were still clouded with pain. I could tell he wasn’t truly functioning properly. But at least he was conscious.

  “Lucas.” I frowned, closing the distance between us until I was but a foot from him. “Can you tell me what is going on?”

  “Did you call 911?”

  I nodded, his question and the hoarse rasp on which it was asked tightening the knot in my belly.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did you give them my name?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you give them yours?”

  “Not my full name. Not even Veronica. I just gave them Ronnie.”

  That muscle ticked again. Pain etched his face for a second and he scrunched his eyes shut, hissing as he turned his head to the side.

  I stepped closer to him, resting my palms on his chest with gentle pressure. “Lucas, please tell me what’s going on? What happened to you? Who did this? Why do you think I’m in danger? Who am I not meant to trust?”

  He swung his head back to face me.

  I gasped.

  His eyes locked on mine, clear and intense and completely focused. “We have to go. Now.”

  I blinked. “Go? Go where? A second ago, you were unconscious. An ambulance is on its way. You’re injured. Like blood-spurting-from-your-nose injured. We can’t go anywhere.”

  A dark tension filled his eyes and he grabbed my upper arms. The blanket fell from his shoulders, revealing his body and all its bruises and cuts. I wanted to wave my hand at them and say see? But I was too stunned to do anything but stare into his eyes.

  “Ronnie, you’ve got three minutes to throw some clothes into an overnight bag and put some shoes on. If you’re not ready, I’m throwing you into your car and we are out of here. Comprende?”

  I didn’t argue. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t argue. It was pointless. He’d already proved he could overpower me when he was semi-conscious. He looked far from that state now.

  Holy crap, he looked scary.

  It took me less than the three minutes to get a bag together. I had no idea where we were going or for how long. I threw in two pairs of panties, a bra, however many pairs of shorts I grabbed in my wild handful: ditto with my shirts. Thankfully, I always keep a toiletry bag packed and ready to go.

  I ran back to the living room. A worried part of me expected to find Lucas unconscious on the floor. What would I do if that were the case? He obviously didn’t want the paramedics to see him, but I still didn’t know why.

  Another part of me considered the possibility he was insane. No one knew what he got up to when he went missing. Maybe he had a split personality and the Lucas currently in my house was a delusional psychopath. Of course, if that was the case, the delusional psychopath had tongue-fucked and finger-fucked me to the most incredible orgasms of my short life, so I didn’t really know how I felt about that.

  An even smaller part of me pondered the notion—in the few seconds it took me to run from my bedroom to the living room—that this was all a big prank Lucas was playing on me. That when I arrived in the living room, he’d be laughing and wiping away the bloody wounds
from his body with a tissue. I could almost hear him say “Gotcha, Ronnie. You sucker!”

  He was neither laughing nor unconscious when I arrived back in the living room, but to be honest, I had my doubts about the psychopath part—delusional or otherwise.

  He’d killed the lights in the room, plunging it into darkness. It was only the fact my DVD unit had the world’s brightest LCD display, thereby throwing the room into a dim blue hue, that I could make out what was going on.

  He stood at the window, one finger parting the drapes barely a sliver, watching the world outside. He was still naked. Despite the surreal moment I found myself in, I couldn’t help but notice the way the LCD’s light emphasized the sculpted hardness of his muscular body.

  When this was over, I was having a damn good conversation with myself about the way I was sexually reacting to him.

  Stepping a few feet into my living room, I opened my mouth to tell him I was ready, but before I could utter a sound, he released the drape and turned to me.

  The darkness made it impossible to see his eyes. If he really was delusional, I had no way of knowing.

  “Let’s go,” he said, although it definitely sounded more like an order.

  “Where?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he strode past me, scooping up the blanket he’d worn earlier as he did so. I heard what sounded like my car keys chink, and then he was at the door leading into the garage.

  “Oh,” I muttered, hitching my bag farther up my shoulder as I followed. “We’re going there? I always wanted to go there.”

  “Of course you have, Ronnie,” his low response came to me from the darkness a split second before he opened the door.

  A moment later, we were in my car, Lucas wrapped in the blanket behind the wheel, me buckled into the passenger seat, frowning at him with a mix of frustration and concern.

  Turning over the engine, he threw me a grin. By the light of the dashboard, I could see his eyes had that same scary and yet at the same time sexy as all hell intensity they’d had inside when he’d told me I had three minutes to get ready to go.

  “Ready?”

  I snorted, my tummy knotting. “Sure.”

  His grin stretched wider. “That’s my girl.”