British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set

by Marissa Farrar

  Snapping back into reality, Harriet remembered her work. She really ought to get a couple of pictures for the website, to go with her article. Digging in her pocket, Harriet tutted as she realised she’d left her phone at the breakfast table.

  Damn it. Of all the idiotic things to do while trying to find a stranger in the woods. Well, it wasn’t as if he’d be doing anything against her will. The thought sent a frisson of electricity from the back of her neck to her nipples then on down to her knickers. They were damp already.

  Right, let’s go, she rolled her shoulders and twisted a crick from her neck, dragging her hair up into a high ponytail and securing it with a band she kept round her wrist. She gripped her ponytail tight, imagining Archie’s huge hands around it, holding her head in place as he leaned in to bite at her neck.

  Determination renewed, Harriet stepped back out onto the narrowing track and tried her best to walk without a limp. She was surprised to realise that it wasn’t as sore as she’d thought it would be and while it was slow progress, she was much more confident.

  All the while she strained her ears to filter out the tweeting birds and general forest rustlings to try and hear the axe to pull her in the right direction.

  At last, she could just about make out the crack and muffled thump of the split wood falling onto the spongy ground.

  A chill rose up the base of Harriet’s spine as a small gust of wind tugged her sweat-moist t-shirt from her back. She hadn’t realised how much effort she’d been putting in and lifted her arm to sniff at the damp patch there. Damn it. She hadn’t even had a bloody shower this morning, she’d still reek of her own pleasure from last night. That’s possibly why she was even on this mission. The blast of her own sex pheromones was driving her lust crazy.

  The cracking became louder and Harriet switched course slightly, veering off the path and into the thickening trees. She wasn’t quite sure if it was the same place as yesterday and cautiously pushed the twigs and branches as she went, trying her best to avoid them springing back into her face. She was being extra careful not to lose her footing and make a repeat performance of her first trip into the forest. Coming to the edge of a clearing, she held her breath as Archie came into view.

  He was majestic. The shafts of light struck his back muscles as they flexed and moved beneath his perfect skin. His t-shirt was hanging out the back of his low slung woodcutters trousers. Harriet drank in the sight of his body twisting as he lifted the axe high above his head, hip bone jutting out above his waistband in that perfect still moment, the apex of the arc, before the action renewed and the head of the axe sliced the log in a beautiful clean spit.

  Again, Harriet reached for her phone to capture the next swing but her pockets were empty. This would have to be a private show, just for her. She’d have to pay extra attention to make sure she committed it fully to memory.

  He really was a perfect specimen of manhood. Especially now in this moment where none of this was for an audience, it was simply a man in the forest, working with wood. Fucking magnificent. Harriet tried to recall a time when she’d ever seen physical labour like this—apart from building sites where they’d be clad in safety gear, boots, helmets, gloves and hi-vis jackets. This was different. His fragrance wafted her way—musk and sweat. Earthy, yet with that delicious spicy undertone of a man who’d worked hard.

  There was nothing quite like the scent of a man.

  She couldn’t bear it any longer. “Archie,” she called, far too quietly.

  “Archie,” she called again, checking her hair with the flat of her hand.

  The axe fell, striking the log at an awkward angle causing Archie’s shoulder to twist and he stumbled forward.

  “What the fuck?” He sounded angry and spun around, still catching his balance to where he could see Harriet. “I might have kent it’d be you.” His eyes stared at hers with a ferocious intensity and Harriet couldn’t decide whether she was afraid or excited.

  Her cunt decided for her. Heat and moisture coursed through her and her nipples hardened. Trembling turned to shaking and the thrill bubbled from her chest to her throat causing a squeal to leap out.

  “Were you expecting me?” she said, and smiled as he marched over to her.

  He swooped and picked her up and carried her to the centre of the clearing. “I should get the police on to you, stalking’s illegal you know.”

  Harriet tipped her head into his chest where the sound of his words growled and rumbled. “Yes, I do know.” She inhaled, her face touching against the taut skin on his pec. A dusting of hair held in droplets of sweat and Harriet smeared her cheek in it, gathering as much of him on her flesh as she could before he dumped her roughly onto the forest floor.

  “What is it you want from me?” His eyes were hard as his gaze raked across her body settling on her chest.

  She couldn’t help but arch her back and tip up her breasts which were straining against her top.

  “Ach, dinnae answer that,” he said, picking up the axe and turning away from Harriet to start chopping up the logs again.

  Harriet was stunned. Here she was practically throwing herself at him and he was ignoring her. Well it was her own fault, she reasoned, what would she do if someone had followed her to her place of work and simpered about looking horny and pathetic in equal measure.

  “Hey, turn around and look at me,” Harriet said, her voice faltering a little.

  He lowered the tool and turned slowly, his expression showing genuine puzzlement and confusion.

  Harriet pushed up onto her elbows and decided to communicate like an adult. “Listen, I enjoyed what we,” she paused, “what you, did to me last night. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything for anyone before and I know I don’t even know you but—”

  “That’s right, you dinnae know me. You dinnae know me at all. And you’re not going to either.”

  “Why?”

  Archie turned, a thunderous look passing his face.

  Harriet shivered.

  “I’m not a good man.” He muttered and went back to work with extra vigour which did nothing to quell the lust emanating from every part of Harriet’s body. Her mother always warned her off bad boys but actually, she had seen no evidence of his bad boy nature, apart from a bit of banter in the bar, oh, and sexually pleasuring her in her hotel room, she didn’t understand what he was talking about. Yes there were rumours of his EDIT Though there was the small matter of him allegedly assaulting a reporter, but surely there would have been more coverage if it had been serious… or even true.

  “Listen, we’re both adults here. I don’t care if you ‘like the ladies’ as I’ve been told. We can just, you know, have a bit of a fling. Why not?” Harriet decided to ignore the reporter thing for now.

  He dropped his axe and flew at her, knocking her back with his body pressing into hers. His breathing was ragged and hard as his stubbled jaw raked up into her neck below her ear.

  “Listen, ya wee London bitch, I’m not your fucking plaything.”

  His body was tense on hers and Harriet’s pulse raced. He was furious, she could smell it, mixed with all the other heady scents. It was like a shot of pure lust to her cunt and the tickle of his rough beard on her neck made her head fall back and she groaned, letting her pelvis tip up and her legs relax, opening her thighs to him. “Maybe not,” she whispered, “But I could be yours…”

  His body sagged down onto hers and his mouth was on her flesh, kissing and suckling at her shoulder, biting and eating her. His hand wriggled up under her top, thick urgent fingers dragging at her bra and pulling it down to expose her taut nipple.

  Harriet squirmed, heat and excitement swelling in her pussy.

  “Oh yeah,” she said in a sighing groan which he mirrored, leaving her neck and clasping his mouth around her nipple through the t-shirt fabric. The material was rough on her sensitive nub and when his teeth grazed it, she thought she might come there and then.

  “You want to be my plaything, lassie?�
�� His voice was thick and muffled as he was still latched on to her breast with his teeth, bringing tears to her eyes but still her cunt tightened and clenched.

  She nodded and made a sound of acquiescence.

  “Well this is your first and final warning. I play rough.”

  The words were so hard and gravelly that Harriet’s body sagged and melted deeper into the forest floor and her head fell back, arching her tit up further into his mouth.

  “Suckle me,” she said, wriggling her ass into the ground trying to nudge his bulk a little to allow her to spread her legs for him.

  He still had one hand cupping her between her shoulder blades and pulled her even closer to him as he engulfed what felt like her whole breast in his hot urgent mouth, tongue flattening out against her areola then a wave of pressure as he sucked hard, her nipples peaking and sending bolts of electricity to her clit.

  Sweat broke out on her shoulders and down over her skin, her forehead was damp and her hair was sticking to her face. Eyes streaming and her mouth twisted into a sex-lust grimace, Harriet realised she was not at her most aesthetically attractive in this state but she knew her reaction to him was turning him on.

  He took his attention to the other breast with his mouth but still kneaded her left in his big fist. Harriet managed to look down and catch a glimpse of his thick calloused fingers squeezing and releasing her flesh beneath her top. After another shrug and twist of her hips, Archie finally took the hint and manoeuvred his knees to inside of her legs while still eating up her tits.

  He shifted and pressed his kneeling thighs hard against the inside of hers, causing her to spread her hips wide. It was a delicious feeling, almost too much, her pussy was hot and constricted in her jeans and he pressed further until her clit was begging to be freed.

  “Aye, lassie, you’re soaking for the rough stuff. A forest fuck from a Highlander. Every horny chick’s fantasy isn’t it?”

  Harriet wasn’t sure about the chat, she wished he’d be quiet and get on with it. Oh to feel his thick cock nudging its way into her cunt, tentatively at first then ploughing her into the needle-carpeted floor.

  “Yes, yes, so do it,” she growled, grabbing at the flesh on his back, raking his skin with her nails like a feral thing. “Stop fucking talking and get on with it.”

  Her words seemed to spur him on and she liquefied at the thought of an angry fuck outside. She clawed his back harder and he jutted his knees out, nearly splitting her jeans. He reached down and jammed his open hand onto her crotch, slamming it back and forth, her clit rubbing against the sodden fabric.

  “Oh you’re fucking wet, you little London whore.”

  His words had Harriet tumbling out of herself, all sense of who she was gone, her consciousness centred on her cunt.

  “Yes, yes,” she said, so desperate now that she was grinding onto his huge hands, imagining his fingers sliding into her desperate wanton hole.

  She wanted to feel his cock splay her open. Taking her hands from behind him, she tried to squeeze between them to start undoing his trousers but he pulled back, opting instead for tugging at hers. He dragged at the buttons and zip and yanked her knickers and jeans off in one. Harriet’s hips complained at the sudden change in position but her cunt delighted in being free. The cool air of the forest hit at her core and she tried to shut her legs as best she could with a giant locked in between them.

  “Oh no you dinnae,” he said, pushing her back into the ground and putting a palm on each inner thigh. Taking his full attention to her cunt, he pressed slowly opened her up for him to see.

  Harriet was not an exhibitionist and her face reddened as she watched him study her pussy with a hungry look in his eyes. She could imagine the sight, a dishevelled sweaty woman, all dirt and twigs, displaying her red swollen pout all dripping and succulent. Surprisingly, the scene did not, as she’d expected, make her shy, it actually turned her on and she reached down to her cunt and pressed two fingers against her labia, opening them up to show him how ready she was.

  “Do you like that, big rough Highland man?” she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Do you like to see how wet you’ve made me?”

  His eyes sparkled and he even licked his lips, his fingers gripping tighter at her thighs as if urging her on.

  She slowly slipped her middle finger deep inside, the pad of her thumb rubbing at her desperate clit. It wasn’t enough. She added another finger and fucked herself for him to see. It still wasn’t enough. She wanted to be stretched like her thighs were being stretched. She added a third finger and watched his reaction.

  “Oh that’s it, that’s it, you are a filthy wee slut aren’t you. I bet all the London lads have had a go in that pretty cunt of yours.”

  The thought of a gang of men all taking turns ramming themselves and taking their pleasure in her, nearly had Harriet tipping over the edge.

  “Would you like another finger in there?” he asked and without waiting for a reply released one of her thighs and spat on his middle digit and pressed it to her entrance underneath her row of fingers.

  Harriet held her breath. Would she be able to take it? Right now, it was all she wanted.

  “Are you ready?”

  They locked gazes and Harriet nodded.

  She kept her hand completely still as he slowly pressed at her opening. It stung a little and she breathed out, relaxing as much as she could to allow him entry. He jabbed sharply and breached her hole, filling her like she’d never been filled. Once the tip of his finger was in, he paused, allowing her to expand gently around the four digits that were now crammed inside her.

  “Keep still, lassie, and let me do this.”

  Harriet closed her eyes and held her cunt fast, pressing the heel of her palm onto her clit as Archie Macdonald slid his thick middle finger further inside her full pussy.

  She trembled as he slowly began to pulse gently at first until he was sure she could handle it, then more insistently until he was fully coated in her desire. Her cunt was practically flowing with lubrication and as his finger slipped back and forth over hers, he curled it upwards forcing her own fingertips into her G-spot.

  Harder and harder he fucked her with their hands and Harriet began to climb up into that space where suddenly, with one huge shove, she came. She convulsed around their combined fingers and spasmed into wave after wave of orgasm. As Archie kept the massaging motion up, she opened her eyes to see his biceps flex and release as he pumped her full and it tipped her over the edge again.

  “That’s it, that’s it, what did I tell ye? I said I’d make you squirt didn’t I?”

  A strangulated roar grew in Harriet’s throat as a gushing sensation took over her body, climax after spasming climax had her soaked and shuddering.

  As the waves of sensations subsided, Harriet’s peripheral vision began to dim and she hazily watched Archie with the sun behind him rise in shadow form and turn, his huge bulk blotting out everything else for a second before he walked away.

  “Hey, isn’t it your turn,” she called, feebly lifting a trembling hand and letting it drop as she closed her eyes fully and settled back into the earth, her body buzzing. She felt like a bit of her soul had left her, or rather, was hovering above her physical self. What the hell had just happened to her? As the crack thunk of logs being chopped by her mighty lover recommenced, Harriet slipped into an exhausted doze.

  Chapter Five

  “Right you, sleeping beauty, time to wake up.”

  Archie’s voice startled her and Harriet jumped in fright, scrabbling to gather her clothes and cover her naked lower half. Even though she was feeling a little weird about what had happened between them, Harriet glowed with emotion when she realised Archie had covered her up with his t-shirt and done the best he could to make her comfortable while she’d rested. The sun had dipped a little though and she’d been cast into shadow during her nap, leaving her shivery and damp where her juices hadn’t had a chance to dry. Goosebumps rose all over her body and she looked
up to watch Archie stacking the last of the logs into a huge pile that certainly hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. She mopped up as best she could with her knickers and dragged on her jeans.

  “How long have I been sleeping?” She asked, pulling bits of pine needles and twigs out of her ponytail. It was too jammed up so she yanked out the elastic band and shook her hair free. She caught Archie’s gaze as he eyed her, lust filling his expression. He snapped out of it quickly when he saw that she’d noticed.

  “Dunno, couple of hours at least.”

  Damn. She’d never conked out quite so dramatically after an orgasm before.

  Archie slung the axe over his shoulder and reached down to help pull her up. Harriet’s inner feminist wondered whether she ought to be resisting but gripped tighter when pain from her ankle made her wince. She’d forgotten about that, again.

  “Thanks.” She hopped in beside him and he cupped his palm up under her other arm. For a moment she could imagine they were lovers going for a romantic walk together. She let her hand drift round his lower back and settle with her thumb hooked into his waistband. As they navigated the trickier ground to the path, something was nagging at Harriet. Why hadn’t Archie even tried to get any of his own pleasure?

  “Why don’t you let me take care of you?” she asked, snaking her left hand to the front of his jeans as they stepped onto the smoother terrain of the forest walk way.

  Abruptly, Archie pulled away from her and slapped her hand from his crotch and marched faster, shrugging Harriet out from under his arm.