Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance)

by Weston Parker

  A knock at the door startled her, and Lila went to answer it, wondering who could possibly be bothering her before noon. She pulled open the heavy front door and stood at the screen. Her eyes widened when she saw Damien on the other side, shirtless again and standing on her stoop with a serious face.

  She said nothing as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. She didn't know what to say. Apparently he didn't either. He took a few steps into the hall, then must have followed the sound of the television into the living room. Lila's mouth worked but nothing came out, and when he sat down on the couch and turned his attention to the TV, she sat down beside him.

  Julia whipped her ingredients as Lila kept one eye on her guest. They'd still not spoken, and the tension in the room was palpable. She leaned back, unsure of what to do, and felt his arm cross her back to encircle her shoulders. His skin was warm but the heat was pleasant, if anxiety-inducing. One finger trailed up and down her shoulder blade, and she held in the shiver it produced.

  Lila wanted to ask him what he was doing, why he'd shown up this morning and what he could possibly want from her. But she couldn't. Instead she sat silently, her eyes on the TV but her mind focused on his hand as it moved lower, slipping under her arm to cup a breast. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Lila realized it was her own.

  Damien scooted closer, then angled her body toward him. Lila held still as his hand moved to her front to squeeze first one breast then the other. Then it slipped down the front of her swimsuit, his fingers brushing against her nipple, causing it to harden, as did its twin. Before she could react, he was pulling down the top of her swimsuit, sliding the straps off her arms to expose her chest to his gaze. And his touch.

  Lila could hardly breathe, sure she would pass out and make an even bigger fool of herself. But instead of fainting, she nearly jumped off the couch when Damien lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth.

  He sucked.

  She moaned.

  His movements increased in speed, in intensity. Damien was suddenly a man possessed, his hands kneading her chest, his lips skipping from one nipple to the other. When his tongue came out to lick her breasts she cried out again, her hips moving forward of their own accord. Then she noticed his hips did much the same.

  Damien released her breasts and leaned back, his hands going to his denim shorts. Lila heard the sound of a zipper and then he was exposed to her gaze. She gasped, feeling lightheaded and crazy in the heat. There it was, his...his...thing.

  Cock, her mind whispered, and she shivered but admitted how right the word felt.

  It was long and thin, and bright pink. For a second she wanted to laugh. Instead she stared at it. Until Damien grabbed her hand and pulled it to him. Then she was touching it, feeling its strange hard-and-softness. Experimentally she squeezed. Damien moaned.

  His hands were back on her breasts, teasing them now, tugging on the nipples until Lila cried out. She continued to explore his cock, wondering about the rest of it, which was still hidden inside his shorts. But before she could go farther, one of his hands grabbed hers. He pulled the hand to his mouth and gave it a lick, his saliva entirely coating her hand. Lila frowned and considered wiping it off, but then he wrapped that hand back around himself. His hand above hers, he showed her how to hold it, how to stroke it, up and down, the pace steady.

  Damien returned both hands to her breasts as she stroked him. Before long he released her, then leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. Lila watched in wonder as his ab muscles jumped, as his thigh muscles clenched and unclenched. Damien let out a moan, and she felt his hardness twitch in her hand. It jumped once, twice, and then a sticky white substance was weeping from the head. Oh shit! She knew what that was.

  Instinctually she slowed down her strokes but did not move her hand. It was covered in his seed, and she wasn't sure what to do next. Damien's face was flushed, his cheeks red. Then he opened his eyes and his gaze burned into her. Lila held her breath, wondering what would come next...

  The phone rang.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Shrilly it cried that it would not be ignored. Lila ran to the kitchen, turning on the water in the sink while grabbing the receiver with her clean hand. As the soiled hand was stuck under the spray, the other brought the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

  "Hey honey." Her mother.

  Lila tried desperately to sound normal. "Hey."

  "I wanted to let you know that I'll be a little late getting home tonight. I've got an appointment after work."

  "Oh?" Lila hoped her mother couldn't hear her breath heaving.

  "Yes. I've been feeling a little run down lately and figured I better have it checked out. What good is health insurance if you don't use it, right?"

  "Uh huh."

  "Well, I'll be home late, so feel free to get dinner started. I love you."

  "Love you."

  Lila set down the phone and finished washing her hands. Hearing a sound from the hallway her head cocked in that direction. Taking several deep breaths, she made her way back toward the living room. She noticed idly that the front door was standing open. Then she saw the couch was empty. Damien had fled.

  Lila woke then, the memory of that sound, the screen door hitting the frame, echoing through her mind. Better that then the memory of what that doctor's visit had revealed. A condition that would only worsen, until her huge, healthy mother had been reduced to a whimpering skeleton in a hospital bed.

  She sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face, eyeing the curtains which had yet to lighten with the dawn. There was plenty to do today, many mindless tasks during which she could forget the past. A past that would once again settle around her when she returned to this small house, alone. Lonely.

  Chapter Three

  Alexander Drake strode down the hallway, dropping his bag as he made his way toward the room his decorator had christened the Blue Parlor.

  "Alana?"

  She'd said she'd be here when he got home tonight. But the Blue Parlor was empty, as was the divan Alana liked to inhabit while paging through stacks of tabloids and fashion magazines. Drake stalked down the hall, calling her name again.

  The kitchen was dark and he knew he wouldn't find her there. Instead he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. He drank deeply, then almost wiped his sleeve across his mouth before he remembered he was wearing a $3,000 custom tailored suit jacket.

  She was probably upstairs. Maybe she was in the French tub, up to her neck in bubbles, waiting for him to join her. Sadly the thought of the ice blond model nude except for bubble bath did little to arouse his libido.

  Alana was spectacular, 5' 10" and 115 pounds, straight blond hair, likely a color nature never produced, teeth a similar nature-defying white, and high, pert tits. She'd done shows in Italy, in France, and in Hong Kong, as well as New York and L.A. Although she was in her mid-twenties and therefore aging out of several of her previous bookings, she still made a nice living off her looks. And since she was the face of an additive and cruelty free makeup line out of Portland, she now spent much of her time in his city.

  Hell, now that he was gonna marry her, she'd never have to pose for another picture. Not for the money anyway. Alex was sure she'd have no problem settling into the routine of a trophy wife. She probably posed for the mold of that little gold woman on the top of the damn trophy herself.

  Maybe that's where she was now, because she wasn't in the tub. Nor the bed. Not anywhere on the second floor. Alex pulled of his tie and tossed it on the floor, then kicked off his shoes. Looked like his plans for the night were turning to shit. He dug out his phone and sent his wayward girlfriend a text.

  Where are you?

  A few minutes later, minutes in which he changed into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt, he received a response.

  Something came up downtown. Another time?

  Alex sighed. He had a pretty good idea what had come up. Alana wasn't one for quiet nights at hom
e. She liked the nightlife, liked the attention on her, and the cameras even better. Her poise under the lens made her an excellent candidate for the kind of wife he needed. Still, she didn't have to enjoy it so much.

  As he swiped his response into existence, a weight descended. Tomorrow 8 pm? Castagna? She wouldn't turn down an invitation to the high-profile eatery. She soon confirmed it.

  Of course.

  Looked like he had one more night of freedom. And he couldn't think of a damn thing to do with it but lie on his bed staring at the ceiling. Then he turned, and his gaze fell on the night stand and the ring box he'd set down earlier.

  He'd planned a quiet evening in. He'd order some dessert, light some candles, open a bottle of wine, then propose. The ten carat yellow diamond creation was guaranteed to be irresistible. Alex had seen Alana twitter like a magpie at nearly anything shiny, so the ten carat stunner was sure to please. Then he'd be engaged, and soon after married.

  He'd always known he'd marry someday, but he hadn't given it serious thought in years. Not since dating had become a competition in college. And now his greatest rival was married. Worse, to a woman Alex respected. If that wasn't a kick in the dick, what was?

  So what was his solution? Get himself hitched as well. And if it wasn't to a woman he exactly respected, at least it was one who knew how to fit into his lifestyle. A lifestyle as confining as his designer suits and expensive shoes. And at times as annoying as the overpriced food and stifling atmosphere he'd be experiencing in place of the intimate proposal he'd wanted.

  Might as well call his publicist and get some photographers down by the restaurant. As one of the richest men in the country, and an attractive bachelor who'd been tied to a handful celebrities and successful models over the years, he remained in the public eye. Not that it bothered him. Public relations was another necessary evil in building an empire. Besides, letting his publicist know before he proposed might save him the hassle of a press release.

  And Alana would eat it up. Anything to make his future bride happy.

  Alex sighed, wondering when it would be time to make himself happy.

  "Yes. Of course, yes!"

  Alex smiled, slipping the weighty ring on her slim finger. Alana's eyes never left the diamond and he watched as she moved her finger up and down, smiling at the light reflecting in the yellow stone.

  As they left the restaurant she made sure to keep her left hand in sight of the cameras. Alana stalked the sidewalk like it was a runway but answered none of the questions lobbed at her. Alex followed, a tight grin on his face. It seemed like he'd be making that press release after all.

  In the limo she gripped his hand, thinking out loud as she brought up then discarded names of designers for her wedding dress.

  "The engagement party comes first," he told her. If he was gonna tie the knot, best follow protocol. "Two weeks from now at my place. I've already picked the caterer."

  "Right," she said, a megawatt smile on her face. "I'll need a new dress for that too."

  "Go to Saks. Put it on my account."

  Alana kissed him on the cheek and he nuzzled her ear. She smelled faintly of powder and makeup. He gave her ear an experimental nibble, but it didn't stop her stream of speech. "We should start looking at venues soon. And I've got just the right guy to do the photography--"

  Alex gave up his nibbling and sat back, leaned his head against the leather seat and closed his eyes. He wished they hadn't taken the limo, because he'd rather drive himself. At least it would give him something to do while she jawed on. But he'd known the occasion would merit champagne. And Alana loved the limo, so...

  At his place he followed her up the stairs, watching her hips sway under the silk slip dress. They were small hips, as nicely formed as the rest of her. Feeling detached, he watched as once in the bedroom she pulled the dress off and stood before him in nude lace panties and bra. He pulled off his own clothes, then took her into his arms.

  She felt barely there, almost insubstantial, a sensation that persisted as she placed her lips against his. Alex deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, licking at her tongue. It remained passive and he abandoned her mouth to move downward. Alana put her arms on his shoulders and stayed motionless as he cupped her breasts and planted kisses on the tops of the small mounds.

  Alex released her, taking a strengthening breath as he lit the candles he’d scattered around the room earlier. Alana seemed not to notice his attempts at a romantic atmosphere. She stood still in the center of the room, her breathing even, her eyes almost devoid of feeling.

  Alex returned to her, pushing away stray thoughts that told him to stop, to take back the proposal, to hold out for something more. He squeezed the voices out until there was only silence again.

  Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her to him. She folded her legs loosely around his hips but didn't squeeze him, didn't even draw that close as he carried to her to bed and set her upon it. Alex climbed in beside her and she sat up, unhooking her bra and pulling it off, then slipping her panties down her legs. He returned his hands to her exposed breasts, playing with the nipples and watching her face for any sign of response.

  Alana closed her eyes, her face passive, an occasional wrinkle barely betraying the passion he hoped she was feeling. He left her breasts and kissed his way lower, down past her flat stomach and protruding hip bones until he reached her slick lips. Her pretty mound was bare, as impeccably groomed as the rest of her. Alex blew against her pussy, his eyes seeking a reaction in her face. Her eyes were closed, her face still.

  He gave up on watching her and buried his face in her, licking and sucking, probing with his skilled tongue. Beyond a few small movements of her hips, there was little response. He wanted to ask what she liked, what turned her on, if she wanted his tongue plunged deeper. If she wanted him to suck harder on her little clit. But he'd stopped trying to talk during the act when he'd realized it made her uncomfortable.

  A damn shame, because Alex loved dirty talk while fucking. But Alana just didn't participate.

  A couple of twitches of her thigh muscles, a few stray sighs, these were the only signs of her arousal. After several minutes he gave up, grabbing a condom and moving up to position himself. He slid inside and thought he caught a little moue of discomfort on her face.

  Alex hid his face in her neck and concentrated on the act. Here he was, in bed with a model, in a position many men would give a testicle or two to be in, and he was spending his time praying that he could stay hard long enough to finish.

  Her lack of response was daunting. He placed a hand between their bodies, his fingers seeking out her clit, rubbing it in small circles. Still she laid there, quiet, and Alex wondered, not for the first time, if she'd ever orgasmed. With him, or anyone.

  As he drove himself inside her, his pace steady, his technique honed, he tried to keep his confidence along with his erection. It wasn't easy, and he was forced to use anything at his disposal. So while most men fantasized about fucking a supermodel, he fantasized about old girlfriends while actually fucking one.

  Cherry, there was a memory that never failed to excite. She'd had huge tits, with big areolas and dime-sized nipples. He remembered pulling those nipples into his mouth until they'd hardened and grown longer. Alex had loved putting his head between those tits, burying his face in them. Like always it brought on the familiar feeling, and he quickened the pace of his fingers, hoping that she'd reach some climax as he found his own.

  Afterwards, he'd rolled off her, disposed of the condom and then pulled her into the crook of his arm. She'd lain there, not snuggling, not moving in close, but instead watching the candlelight reflect off ten carats.

  * * *

  Lila's first day in Portland was exhausting. She'd been riding high on a wave of excitement when she picked up the keys from the leasing agent, and her energy had persisted through the deliveries and installation of her new equipment. It wasn't until late afternoon, when she finally took a moment to
choke down some unpalatable fast food from the chain restaurant nearby that she realized how tired she was. And she hadn't even begun to unpack her personal items.

  Her gaze roaming the huge kitchen, Lila smiled around her mouthful of lukewarm fries. The space couldn't be more perfect, especially on her tight budget. After the licensing, code inspections, and equipment purchases, her savings was dwindling.

  Although Brice Masterson had been more than generous in his payment for the wedding feast, and although she'd been saving for years to start up her business, things seemed to cost more than she'd estimated. Her smile faded and, wrapping up the rest of her now-cold burger, Lila sighed.

  As she tossed her leavings into the trash, her phone rang. The number was unfamiliar.

  "Hello?"

  "Good afternoon. May I speak to Ms. Lila Johnstone, please?" The voice on the other end was female, the tone professional and polite.

  "Uh, speaking."

  "Ms. Johnstone, this is Alexander Drake's office calling. He's asked me to set up an appointment to discuss the catering of an upcoming event. I apologize for the short notice, but he'd like to meet with you as soon as possible."

  Lila swallowed. Drake must be the one Janna had mentioned at her reception. Trying not to sound too eager and hoping her tone was as professional as the woman's on the other end of the line, Lila mimed paging through a calendar. "Let's see. It seems you're in luck. I've got an opening tomorrow afternoon."

  "Perfect. Shall we say two o'clock?"

  "Two o'clock sounds fine." When the woman began rattling off the address, Lila bolted to her bag to find a pen and pad. She had no idea where the building was, but she didn't let on. "Thank you. I'll be there tomorrow."