Wicked Bad Boys

by Bella Love-Wins

  She pulls from me and nods down at my boxers, giving a wink, with a wide grin on her face. I take the hint and lift myself up to pull the boxers down off my legs. No hesitation. Now or never. Her gaze darkens with arousal. Her nostrils flare slightly. I recline back, my head on the pillow. She purrs like a cat and climbs on top of me. My cock is hard, throbbing and desperate to get inside her.

  I look up at her. I gasp, literally, as I watch her gorgeous body, skin glowing under the light, the soft flesh of her breasts begging me to touch her. Reaching forward, I caress her nipples with my fingertips. Her stomach muscles twitch as I do so and she exhales my name. Leaning down to me, she cups my cheek and kisses me. I lose all control. I bracket her head in my palms and hold her still as I ravage her mouth. This is not our first kiss, but it should have been.

  With nothing between us but the heat of our bodies and the touch of her skin brushing a wonderful friction with her peaked nipples, I can’t imagine a more perfect representation of my need for her—hot, chafing, and combustible. She gives in completely to my kiss, and welcomes the thrust of my tongue inside her mouth.

  She grinds her hips down on my pelvis with each dip and swipe of my tongue. My cock swells. It’s trapped between us. I reach a hand down and stroke her clit, getting her wet and ready for the moment I enter her. Our tongues wrestle as she takes control and gives it back to me, while our lower halves have already found a rhythm as old as time itself.

  Her hands find their way to reach under my ass cheeks. She digs her nails into my flesh. I groan aloud. I clamp on to her back and roll us over. Trapped underneath me, she squirms. Combustible, fuck yes. She ignites both our flames with her movements. She moans as I growl. Once again, our lips find one another. Hurried, shallow kisses, as she arches and tilts her hips. Aligning my body with hers, I place my cock at her entrance. We pull from the kiss and our eyes lock. She stares into the infinite depths of my tormented soul as I push into her.

  She yields, tightening on my length, whispering in my ear that she’s been aching to feel me inside her. It’s an exquisite sensation, filling Rebecca and feeling a bit of peace as my cock claims her as my own. We become one.

  “You’re mine, Rebecca.” I growl out.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  Whether I’m wrong or right, I can no longer deny myself. I feel for Rebecca. She’s means more to me. I have no idea how this can work, but I’ll find a way. Rebecca has caught me, right in the chest. I’m not sure I can let her go now.

  We slide together as one. The pressure within her body is building. I hug her close, and she urges me to go faster. I pant out words of desire in her ear. She whispers my name over and over. I growl and shove harder into her as we come together. She tightens around my cock and screams her pleasure, and then her lips find mine again in a searing kiss.

  Life will never be the same. Not for me.

  Chapter 4 - Rebecca

  I’ve been swooning since I woke up this morning. I’ve gone too far with this man. I think I love him. Christ, I can’t believe that thought went through my mind. It has weaved its way through my brain and all over my body, and now I crave Jonathan like no one else.

  I get Kara on the phone after Jonathan leaves. I need her okay to fly to the Bahamas. She says it’s a good idea. She asks me if I feel conflicted in any way. I tell her I was conflicted the second I said yes to taking on this assignment. She tells me to enjoy my time away, and instructs me to go by the boutique again.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “You represent this firm, Rebecca. Working here is not just a job. It’s a way of life. Get used to it. Renée will take good care of you.”

  She hangs up. I have no idea what she means about that way of life comment. The woman can be cryptic sometimes. I get ready and take a cab to the boutique. A few hours later, I’m packed and ready to fly. To be precise, the boutique did it all. Renée picked out my outfits, swimsuits, loungewear—she even picked out a luggage set for the trip. All I had to do was get my passport and work briefcase from home.

  Jonathan picks me up in his limousine. It’s after five in the evening and we’re on our way.

  “Do you have any idea how crazy this is?” I ask when I get in beside him.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Flying with you to the Bahamas.”

  He turns to me, looking slightly amused. “Then why did you say yes?”

  “Good point.”

  “Do you still want to go?”

  “Yes. I’m all packed, and this would be my first vacation in…in over four years.”

  “That long, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I answer leaning my head on the seat back. “Articling and getting ready for the bar has taken its toll on travel and leisure. I guess I should be thanking you.”

  He leans over to me and whispers, “Only if you’re gracious.”

  “I am,” I say, turning to look at the playful smile on his face.

  “Then I’m glad you’re coming.”

  We get to the airport and Jonathan informs me we’ll be flying in his dad’s private jet. We clear customs with relative ease, and are driven from the terminal buildings to one of the buildings set aside for private charters.

  “I've never even been on a private plane before today.”

  “You get used to it pretty quickly.”

  His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, looking down at the number.

  “Excuse me.” He takes the call. “Yeah?” I can’t make out what the person on the other end is saying, but Jonathan looks like he’s been punched in the gut. “They did what?”

  He jumps to his feet and starts pacing as he’s listening. “Shit. Did you call Matheson?” He listens again. “And where’s Youngman?” The person answers and he looks over at me. “Rebecca. The police stopped one of my father’s staff on a routine traffic stop. They did a search and seizure. He’s been arrested. Morris Youngman from your firm is on retainer for this, but they can’t get hold of him. Can Kara put someone else to deal with this tonight?”

  I reach into my purse, fish out my phone and call our twenty-four hour reception line. They can figure out where Morris is, and who to send. They tell me he’s in the emergency room with his wife. They’re having a baby. His backup is out of town. The other lawyer on standby has no criminal defense experience. I think of phoning Kara, but there’s no way I’m reaching out to her at this time in the evening. It sounds simple enough.

  “I’ll help,” I tell him.

  “There’s no one else?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “What about Kara?”

  “No. I can handle it,” I tell him. “Do you mind if we hold off on…this?”

  Bahamas can wait.

  Shit, I can’t believe I’m putting this off. I need this. Fuck.

  “Yes. If we can get him out by ten thirty, we can still travel tonight. Otherwise we can leave tomorrow afternoon.”

  I stand up and head to the door we came from. “Okay. Which precinct held him?”

  “Forty-eighth.”

  Damn. It’s where Rob works. “Let’s go.”

  “My limo service should have a driver here in fifteen minutes.” He speaks to a flight representative at the desk about holding out flight, and the woman keeps our checked bags.

  In twenty minutes we’re on the way to the precinct. I send a text to Rob to see if he’s around, or knows what’s going on. Word gets around fast. He replies, saying he’s heard about it, but it’s not his case. I ask him who the lead detective is. He tells me it’s Detective Matheson.

  “Jonathan, do you know a Detective Matheson?”

  “Yeah. He’s a friend of my dad’s. Why?”

  “He’s lead detective.”

  Jonathan relaxes. “Well that should help.”

  I pull out my tablet. I need to be prepared when we get to the station. “Just in case, can you give me some details on this man who’s been arrested?”

  “Sure. What do you need to know?”
/>
  “Name?”

  “Tony Virocci. Rocko for short.”

  “Is he a local?”

  “Yes. He lives in the Bronx.”

  “Does he have permits for all the weapons he carries? I’m assuming they found guns during the search.”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Are you positive? Even one unlicensed weapon can make a difference in how I approach the Detective when I get there.”

  “I’m pretty sure, but I’m not positive.”

  “All right. Does he have any recent criminal convictions?”

  “No. He’s clean.”

  “Okay. It should be fairly straightforward, then.”

  He looks up from his phone. “Maybe. Rocko has serious confinement issues.”

  “What?”

  “Claustrophobia. He can’t function in confined spaces. Those tiny interview rooms will get to him, and he’ll be clawing at the walls with his bare fingernails to get out. I can’t imagine what a jail cell would do. I hope we can work this out tonight.”

  “It should be fine.”

  He leans over to me and whispers, “Has anyone ever told you you’re sexy when you’re concentrating?”

  “Not recently,” I answer, a smile creeping up my face without my permission.

  “Well, you are.” He cups his hand under my chin and turns my face to look him in the eye. “Thanks for helping me out.”

  I start to answer but he leans closer and plants a soft kiss on my lips. As before, the electricity moves through us. I have to pull away before I get sucked in. I really need to get my act together before I walk into Rob’s precinct. I pull back to look at him.

  “I’m happy to help, but don’t thank me until I get the job done.”

  “You will. Kara only hires the best of the best.”

  I put my hand on his chest, and push him away to get some distance between us. “Just stay on your side of the limo for now. I can’t…I can barely think when you do that.”

  He smiles at me with a broad grin. “Do what? This?”

  He puts his arm on my back and pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips into mine for a hungry, deep kiss. My mind goes blank as he owns me in that kiss. Soon I’m on his lap, and his hands are all over me. I’m grateful when the limo comes to a stop.

  He pulls from the kiss and whispers, “Hold that thought.”

  This man has a power over me like nothing else I’ve experienced. I’m still pulling myself together after he helps me out of the car and walks toward the precinct beside me. I’ll be lucky if I can string together a sentence to help his friend out of this mess when we get inside.

  I wipe the goofy smile from my face when I see Rob walking toward us as we wait at the main desk.

  Chapter 5 - Jonathan

  What we touch has a tendency to touch us right back—and that reality sucks ass. The time at the precinct with Rocko is a chilling welcome to the real world. It’s a reminder none of us can live by our own rules, my father in particular, and sometimes the people around us end up paying for our transgressions. Rocco just happens to be the unlucky one caught in the crossfire this time.

  I also learn Detective Robert Bateman is an asshole. After we get Rocko out, thanks to Rebecca, Bateman walks up to me outside the precinct. The fucker catches me off guard. I have no idea why, but he comes up to me and decks me right across the jaw. I ask him what the fuck his problem is. He tells me I’m trouble and he’s coming for me. That response tells me nothing, and I still don’t know what the guy’s problem is, but no one touches me and gets away with it. I plant my feet and deliver a punch to his gut.

  Rocko pulls me off him when Bateman doubles over, and Rebecca stands between us, shouting for us to calm down. Rocko practically drags me to the limo and pushes me inside. I notice Rebecca speaking briefly with Bateman before she returns to the limo. I ask her what it’s about and she tells me she still doesn’t know.

  I drop Rebecca off at her house—she’s tight-lipped the entire ride over—and take Rocko to my father’s condo. Dad wants to know what the fuck happened. Rocko gives him the rundown. Dad becomes irate about the way Matheson treated Rocko. Matheson is supposed to be one of his guys to help take care of things like this. Instead, he stood by and let some eager detective take Rocko through the ringer for no good reason.

  Rocko smiles broadly after his talk with Dad. I ask him what’s got him smiling like it’s his birthday.

  Rocko pulls out a digital recorder from a pocket of his windbreaker coat. “They patted me down, but the fuckers never touched my jacket. I think we can bury Matheson and his goon of a partner with this.”

  “What’s on it?” Dad asks.

  “I turned it on before we got to the station. It covers the entire time I was in their interview.”

  “Let’s hear it, and then we have to set Matheson straight.”

  “Here’s the part that you need to hear, Mr. Sloan. It’s Matheson tag-teaming with his goon partner, Miller.” Rocko advances the recorder to where the police begin to harass him. He sets the recorder on the table in front of Dad and presses play. We all listen.

  Miller: You want to cooperate with us.

  Rocko: What the hell do you want? I don’t know anything about any Rushton girl. Why haven’t you brought my lawyer in?

  Matheson: Just tell us what you know. My coworker here is not threatening you. He’s just asking for your help.

  Rocko: I just said I don’t know anything.

  Miller: We can make this easy, or we can make it harder for you.

  Rocko: You have nothing on me.

  Miller: We don’t want you. We want to know about Sloan.

  Rocko: I want my lawyer.

  Miller: Was Doreen Rushton in Solomon Sloan’s condo last Saturday night?

  Rocko: Lawyer.

  Miller: Tell us. You think we don’t know about your son’s little racket in Brooklyn? We can make things difficult for Junior. Or you can cooperate and tell us what we want to know, and we’ll leave Junior out of it.

  Rocko: Don’t you fucking bring my family into this.

  Miller: It’s up to you how this goes down, Virocci.

  Rocko: Lawyer. Get me my lawyer.

  Miller: It’s pretty fucking simple, Virocci.

  Rocko: I have nothing more to say.

  Matheson: Alright. Miller, the man asked for his lawyer.

  Miller: I don’t think he understands how bad we can make it for him. When the evidence comes back and we find out it’s Sloan, it’ll be too late for Rocko here. Rocko, we have video surveillance that proves you were in the building when Doreen Rushton died.

  Rocko: Where’s my lawyer?

  Miller: We have camera footage of Solomon Sloan at a restaurant with Doreen three hours before she was found dead. Don’t wait until more evidence comes up, Virocci. Because by then, you’re an accessory, and we won’t need you for anything. By then, you can rot just like Sloan will.

  Rocko: How many times do I have to ask for my lawyer for you to get him in here?

  Miller: You’re withholding information. That’s no different from lying to the police. You’re obstructing justice, Virocci.

  Rocko: And you’re violating my fucking rights.

  Miller: If there’s any problem with the physical evidence, you may have a bigger problem. You see this? It’s a grand jury docket. Right now it’s blank, but if you don’t tell us what we need to know, by next week, we’ll have a grand jury hear your case in court. If it gets to that, I will ask the court to grant an indictment for felony obstruction. That’s five to ten years, Virocci. Are you ready to go to prison for that long? What are you, forty, forty-five years old? Maybe you’ll get out in five to seven years.

  Rocko: Lawyer.

  Miller: You think Sloan can save your ass this time? We know he had his high-priced lawyers save you on those drug charges six years ago. He can’t save you this time. This time we’ll make sure you go away.

  Rocko: I want my fucking lawyer now, you fucking pric
k!

  Miller: What happened that night? Let me tell you what I think. Sloan’s partying with Doreen Rushton. You’re somewhere nearby. They’re partying, she wants to leave, and he doesn’t let her. They struggle. He hurts her. He cuts her. Somehow, she gets away, but it’s too late for little Doreen. You were there. Best case scenario, you’re an accessory. Worst case, you’re an accomplice. Or maybe you did it, Virocci. All I know is if you give us something now, we’ll make it easier for you to see your family one day. If you don’t, you’ll be lucky if you see your wife again when you’re seventy.

  Rocko: I’d like to see my lawyer.

  Miller: You think Sloan wouldn’t hesitate to pin it on you? You’re disposable. You’re nothing to him. You don’t fucking mean shit to Sloan. You’re…you’re collateral damage when the chips fall, Virocci. You and your loser son.

  Rocko: Fuck you, asshole! I want my fucking lawyer now.

  Miller: You didn’t kill little Doreen. But you’ll pay for it just as if you slit her wrists yourself. You know why? Because Sloan does not lose. He never does. But you will.

  Matheson: That’s enough, man. His lawyer is here.

  Rocko stops the recording. Dad is furious.

  “You did good, Rocko. I’ll make sure Miller pays. No one treats my people like that. Come on, let’s go.”

  Dad rises from his seat and walks to the front door. He pulls his mobile phone from his pocket and seems to search for something.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, following him and Rocko.

  “To have a word with Matheson.”

  “We should get this tape to Kara’s people. She can sue them or complain. Let’s take Miller down through legal channels.”

  “No!” My dad’s voice booms as it echoes around the condo living room. “Miller needs to understand who he’s dealing with. Matheson does too.”

  Chapter 6 - Jonathan

  We leave the condo and the three of us take Dad’s limo to meet Matheson. We arrive at the location. Matheson’s SUV is parked about fifty feet down the alleyway. He sees our vehicle and joins us in the limo.