British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set

by Marissa Farrar

  Peals of laughter rang out from the bar and suddenly, not for the first time that evening, a crowd of people turned to her.

  “Want a photie, hen?” Archie threw the words at her and the men around him guffawed. There it was again. The creeping feeling of shame as she realised she’d been staring at him while she’d been thinking. For god’s sake. Mortified and possibly a little too tiddly not to be belligerent, Harriet decided it was probably for the best if she bowed out of the evening. She eased her way along the leather bench seating and exited as gently as she could to avoid bashing her ankle on anything and possibly make herself invisible to anyone within a fifteen metre radius. Of course it didn’t work.

  Archie was at once by her side helping her to her feet, his manly huge presence making Harriet tremble. But she was angry. She had to remember that. This man seemed capable of ridiculing her at any moment, even after being sweet.

  “I’m fine. Leave me,” she said, leaning in slightly to inhale his scent. Earthy musk mixed with soap, as if he’d tried to wash off the hard work of the day but it permeated everything about him. She thought about leaning into his chest and sinking her lips into his pectoral muscles, sucking and nibbling at his nipples.

  “Woah, watch it there, hen, a wee wobble in you. Come on, I’ll help you up to yer room.”

  Goosebumps prickled down Harriet’s spine at the thought of being carried again by the mighty Archie Macdonald. She let her knees soften, bracing for his scoop and lift. But it didn’t come. Archie simply took her crutches in one hand and put the other round her shoulders and cupped her armpit to help take her weight. Damn it. She squirmed a little, knowing she was getting damp there too. This man was going to turn her in to a big wet mess if he kept this close to her. She wondered if he could feel this chemistry too. Or maybe he had this effect on all women as he’d intonated earlier in the forest.

  Harriet felt terrible for doing it but she deliberately made her limp worse as they mounted the frayed carpeted stairs and let Archie take her weight a little more than was proper. She’d never in her life played the role of damsel in distress but there was something about this man that made her actually want to swoon. Eventually, with a mixture of hop-limping and hoisting on Archie’s part, they arrived at her door and nervous energy flamed through Harriet’s cells. Should she invite him in for a fuck? Her body was desperate for him. Her knickers were soaked with desire and all she wanted was to be thrown down roughly and fucked hard. She wanted carpet burns on her shoulder blades and cheeks from being flipped over from one position to the other and drilled from behind.

  Oh god, she was a wreck. Was it the whisky? Or was it the utter animal lust that billowed off this man in waves.

  “Are ye having a bit of trouble there, hen,” his voice tickled at her nape as she tried to engage the jangling key in the lock. Her fingers were clumsy and wouldn’t work.

  “Will I give it a go? I’ve got a knack of getting things to slide into awkward wee holes.”

  Oh for the love of fuck. Harriet rammed the key home and twisted it, frantically opening the door with a shove and reaching behind to grab at Archie’s shirt.

  They stumbled and tripped into the room, Harriet falling back onto the edge of the bed.

  Harriet gripped his t-shirt and pulled him lower for a kiss. He tasted of everything she thought he would, earthy, musky and sensual with whisky overtones to match her own.

  Their tongues mingled for a brief moment then he broke free, glancing down at her chest where she knew he’d see her nipples straining against the fabric of her top. Harriet arched her back and leaned back onto her elbows.

  He set his teeth together and let out a growl of desire, roughly shoving his hand up her top to her breast, kneading it free of her bra and running his thumb over her nipple.

  Sparks of pleasure surged and shot straight to her pussy and their mouths met again. Lips and tongues colliding with pure feral want. She heard the thud of her crutches falling to the floor and the bed dipped where Archie knelt his full weight onto it, simultaneously pushing her back by the breast and climbing on top of her. It was the horniest fucking thing that had ever happened to her and Harriet was throbbing with desire.

  “Is this what you’re wanting, is it? To be fucked by a real man.”

  Harriet whimpered at the shot of arousal his voice dragged from her aching cunt.

  “Is it?” He nuzzled into her neck under her ear, letting his wet lips leave trails of cooling kisses as his voice turned even darker. “Aye, those weak suited bankers dinnae know how to treat women like you…”

  Harriet faltered. Women like her? What did he mean by that? She bristled for a split second but melted again as his tongue twisted up behind her ear into her hairline.

  “You want to feel like there’s nothing you could do if I decided to fuck you.”

  Harriet shifted her pelvis and opened her legs allowing him to slot between her thighs.

  “Aye, see, there ye are, you want me to hold you down while you beg for mercy, beg me to stop the pleasure that’s suddenly too much to take. See, I do know you. You want me to force you up against a wall and slide three thick fingers on up into your cunt, all sodden and gaping for a real man to fill. Is that right, lassie?”

  And even though his words made her uncomfortable, she nodded because it was what she wanted. She wanted more than three fingers inside her. She wanted his cock too.

  My god, he was a lust machine.

  His hand left her breast and went to her hip, making her wriggle and he rubbed the sensitive bone there then to the dip of her belly and mound.

  She tipped her pelvis up to catch his hand and he shifted to get access and push his hand in between her legs. She loved the way his shoulder dipped and the muscles in his arms twitched with the effort. The sinews and tendons working together, honed and beautiful beneath his perfect skin.

  Harriet gasped as Archie cupped her full mound in his palm—still in her knickers and tracky-bums, he squeezed and massaged, large fingers probing at her entrance, forcing the sodden material into her. It was filthy rude and he locked his gaze with hers and pushed again, as if trying to breach her hole with the fabric clad hand. He rocked back and forth for a while, staring.

  Harriet’s arousal grew and she began to feel like she was riding him. Her pleasure was mounting and her pussy started to twitch in that tell-tale way.

  “Stop,” she manged to say, grabbing at his wrist, trying to halt the motion. “Stop, I’ll come,” was all she could manage before almost tipping over the edge into orgasm. He stopped moving and held her fast but put his other hand over her mouth, causing her heart to race as he pressed gently.

  “That, hen, is the point, is it no?” he said and squeezed face as he began frigging her cunt again through the fabric, pushing harder and harder on up to her soaking depths. “Aye, there ye are, that’s what you want, ye uptight wee London lass, isn’t it.”

  Being pinned to the bed by her mouth while she was hand fucked was not something Harriet had ever experienced. Breathing hard through her nose made her think she might start to panic, but as she spiralled off, cunt spasming, into the beginning of an intense orgasm, she decided, she loved it. As she toppled into her climax, Archie released her face and she floated, tripped and tumbled again and again into a wet trembling mess.

  “There ye go,” Archie said as he retreated off the bed and extracted his hand from between her thighs.

  Harriet felt bereft, what about him? Didn’t he want some attention?

  She started to protest at him leaving but he put his finger to his lips. “Sh… plenty of time for me, hen. I’ll be back for mine.” Harriet flopped onto the bed, legs open, a sight for him to take in before he left. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch him leave, or let him see the need for him in her eyes. She knew now she was addicted to this man. The door didn’t creak shut as quickly as she thought and she was just about to look to see what was going on when his looming presence appeared by her ear.

 
“Next time hen, I’m going to make you squirt.”

  His breath on her ear was still cooling as he strode across the room and out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Mind and rest that ankle.” The door swung shut.

  “Wait,” Harriet called, hoisting up on her elbows in her soggy post-orgasmic fug, “Wait, I need to talk to you properly…” Her words echoed around the empty room. She slumped back down and a wave of shock swept through her at what had happened. Putting her forearm up over her face, she bit her lips together and giggled into her sleeve.

  Archie Macdonald had just made her come in her trakkies. She snorted a laugh again. She was thrilled and embarrassed at the same time. What had she been thinking, pulling him into her bedroom and letting him hold her mouth closed like that? Sighing, she let the bed take her full weight, allowing all her muscles to relax and savour the afterglow. Why the hell shouldn’t she have a man pleasure her in such a way—oh and how well he had done it. She smiled again, choosing to banish any doubts or niggles, who cares what anyone else thought, including Archie. The fact was, it had been fun, and long overdue. How on earth had he made her come so quickly? And so hard. She was by no means shy or a prude but she could probably count on one hand the number of times a man had made her climax so intensely.

  Most men needed a little guidance or helping hand, whether that was hers, or her vibrator, so this was a most unexpected treat. Perhaps it was the whisky making her horny. But when she closed her eyes and saw the face of Archie Macdonald, dark hair and sparkling mischievous gaze, she knew it was most definitely not the whisky that had brought her trembling and yearning to this room.

  As she turned on her side, dragging the blankets over herself, she caught her bad ankle on the other and winced. Not quite eradicated yet but it certainly wasn’t as bad as before. A delicious sleepy wave washed over her and carried her off into a satisfied dose.

  Chapter Four

  Harriet had woken early and refreshed from a huge sleep. It couldn’t have been later than seven the night before by the time her visitor had left her room and her body had languished in a deep slumber over eleven hours later. Harriet couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to bed before midnight before arriving in this place with its sweet fresh mountain air and orgasms. It had been a good four or five months since Harriet had a gentleman caller, and her body well and truly approved.

  “Excuse me Megan, but do you know where Archie might be?” Harriet asked the waitress as she gave her a full plate of ‘the good stuff’ the next morning in the dining room.

  “Archie?” Megan fussed with napkins and sauces trying to hide a smirk. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Harriet did not like what this girl was implying. Had Archie kissed and told? Her stomach lurched.

  Megan looked startled by her sharpness and replied in a wounded tone, “Ach, I didn’t mean nothing by it, it’s well, I heard he took you up to your room, and well, let’s just say, he’s no shy with the ladies, if you know what I mean.”

  Harriet, as it happened, knew exactly what Megan meant but was shocked at the assumption.

  “Excuse me. I was helped to my room because of my ankle injury, that’s all. I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  Megan took on a huffy air and shrugged. “Not my fault you don’t know where yer boyfriend is,” she said and stalked off to the kitchen.

  Because Harriet had got up early, the breakfast room was quite full with other residents who would have clearly heard the exchange. Harriet should have kept her mouth shut. But someone had been gossiping. She couldn’t remember Megan tending the bar last night but here she was practically being accused of fucking the man! She could see the irony in not liking information and speculation being spread about her, what with her here as a journalist trying to find a story somewhere.

  In different circumstances she would be rubbing her hands and salivating at snippets of information being given so freely.

  Harriet was trying to decide if she’d lost her appetite or not, when she saw Archie Macdonald striding past outside, swinging his axe and looking deep in thought. Harriet was suddenly on high alert, all her cells were pricking and she knew she had to follow him again. Only for a story, only for an interview. Nothing more…

  Leaving her breakfast and grabbing her crutches, Harriet jostled and knocked her way past the other tables, perfectly aware that they all must know who had just walked past having just heard the chat with Megan. Oh who fucking gives a fuck, her handbag hooked over a diner’s chair, knocking his tea into his plate.

  “Damn, sorry,” she said, trying to grab at napkins and mop up as the man’s brow darkened looking like he was about to give her a ticking off. She was making things worse and the man’s wife, reached out and patted her on the hand.

  “Go to him, it’s fine.” The woman said, beaming at her with a shining smile and romance burning in her eyes.

  “Oh for gawd’s sake,” Harriet muttered as she nodded her thank you and hobbled awkwardly off through to the front door.

  “Archie wait…” It was starting to become a habit, saying those words as he kept striding off into the distance and away. He was either utterly oblivious or a complete control freak. Harriet decided she was actually desperate to find out.

  There was no catching up to him now—she’d made it out to the middle of the road and called a few more times but was completely ignored. As she tutted in frustration she twisted her head and caught the sight of a room full of people watching her every move.

  Oh bloody hell. Swallow me up now, she thought and cocked her head to the side and shrugged at her audience.

  Most of them smiled embarrassedly then got back to their breakfast but the romance lady, whose husband was still mopping coffee off his sleeve and muttering, was frantically motioning for Harriet to look behind her. Harriet turned to see a tractor coming up the road and thought the woman was telling her to get out of the way. Of course she’d get out of the way, she wasn’t a complete idiot. She waved at the woman trying to intonate the words, ‘well, obviously’ but she was still motioning and pointing excitedly. What the hell?

  Eventually, when the woman rolled her eyes and stuck up her thumb as the tractor was really close, Harriet understood.

  “Oh, you mean hitch a ride?” Harriet mouthed and gathered her crutches to hold out her thumb. Her mother would not have approved.

  The tractor slowed to a halt a few metres past Harriet and she tottered over.

  “C’mon then, hop in,” the driver’s rosy weather beaten face was a picture of friendliness and Harriet noted that it wasn’t the non-existent passenger seat he was pointing to but the feed bucket raised high at the front. He lowered the hydraulic forks and Harriet cast a look over her shoulder to the romance woman who was still beaming at the situation. Throwing up the crutches first, Harriet tentatively climbed into the big metal scoop, surprised at how huge it was.

  “Hold on, it’ll be a bumpy ride,” the farmer said, chuckling and raised the hydraulic arms while Harriet gripped the sides.

  It occurred to Harriet that she had no idea where this man was headed, but it looked like there was only one road going up towards the mountain and they were on it, so surely they’d see Archie soon.

  The tractor lurched and jolted forward. Harriet gripped the cold mud-flecked metal with all her strength. She was trying to take the weight off her ankle but it was almost impossible to avoid jarring it every now and then. The good news though was that it was a lot better than yesterday and definitely nothing serious like a break or damaged ligaments. Harriet was sure of that. It would be fine in a couple of days. Unless chasing Archie up the hill caused more damage.

  “Stop!” Harriet yelled and bashed her fist on the bucket when she saw Archie’s swinging gait saunter off through a break in the dyke and into the forest.

  The tractor shuddered to a halt and lowered the bucket down for her to get out with as much dignity as she could muster. Luckily, or unluckily, she c
ouldn’t decide, Archie hadn’t noticed her and disappeared into the trees.

  “Thanks,” she shouted, grabbing the crutches and shoving them up under her arms. She set off after him. The ground was springy with moss and rocks and the crutches kept getting hooked up in it all.

  Fuck sake, she mumbled as she tripped again, this time catching in some grass and bracken. She could sense Archie getting further away and threw the damn crutches to the ground, and hop-limped her way onto the somewhat clearer path and determinedly picked up her pace. Once she had a good rhythm going she suddenly wondered what the hell she was doing. Why was the pull to come here right now so strong? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be here later, this village was his home. He was competing on Saturday, there was plenty of opportunities for them to meet again. What was with this urgency?

  Her pace slowed and Harriet became unsure. Was it sheer lust that had brought her to the forest? Her ankle was throbbing and she raked in her pocket for the packet of paracetamol she always kept handy, usually for stress headaches, or ‘hangovers’ as they may be more commonly known. She popped out a couple and swallowed them dry.

  Ah fuck it, why the hell shouldn’t she follow an almost complete stranger who was almost double her size and had already shown his power over her body with little she could do about it? The memory of the orgasm kicked her hormones into gear and her nipples constricted and puckered in her bra.

  Even if she lost her nerve, the thought of watching him swinging his mighty axe and splitting the huge logs had her panting.

  The path seemed to go on for ages and she had to pause and lean against the trees every now and then to rest up her ankle. The sun had broken through the morning mist and was now streaming down through the canopy of pines and birches. Harriet stopped her mission and take in her surroundings. It truly was a glorious place. The scent of the forest intensified whenever she disturbed the leafy debris with her steps and she shuffled her toe in the discarded pine needles and inhaled the earthy goodness. It made her mouth water, as if it was connected to the manly musk of her prey. That’s how she felt now, she was stalking Archie. She smiled softly, he had indeed caught her in a strange web of desire and lust. It was animalistic. Or maybe it had simply been too long since she’d had good sex. Whatever it was that drew her here, Harriet’s pussy clenched at the memory of the orgasm of the night before and the promise he’d made to make her squirt.