Chasing Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Series (Chasing Bad Boys Book 8)

by Kylie Parker

  “Can I read it before I decide?” Selena asked tentatively.

  “Of course. I will send you a copy, and you can review it. We will discuss it again tomorrow.” He kissed her and looked at her with his brooding eyes.

  Nervous and uncertain, she was too far in to just walk away now. She had risked too much, and she was beginning to need his touch, his gentle guidance and... his touch…rough…hard…gentle…she needed it. Would the agreement dictate how many orgasms she could have? She giggled out loud and covered her mouth. Then, feeling playful she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Both still naked, she could feel the effect beneath her as the sheet fell from her and exposed her body moving on top of his. She danced a little grabbing his hands away when he tried to touch her, teasing him into full arousal. Holding her hands and swaying with her dance he watched her beautiful body with wide eyes. Bit by bit she lowered herself until he was fully inside her. Moaning she leaned forward and released his hands, her breasts rubbing his chest in time to their rhythm.

  In one swift motion, he grabbed her and flipped her over, without missing a beat. Holding her now in front of him he thrust hard, groaning deep and low. Reaching around he touched her, rubbing her even as he pushed deeper inside her. Crying out in pleasure, waves of intense passion swirling around her she begged for release, “Please Maestro, please.” She almost yelled.

  Lawrence stopped and pushed her back onto the bed, spinning her onto her back. Breathing heavy, she spread her legs and wrapped them around him, pulling her to him, aching for him to take her over the edge. Smiling mischievously, he pushed his hips back into and lay on top of her, refusing yet to satisfy her.

  “Not yet you naughty girl, we finish when I tell you. Got it?” Lawrence asked.

  “Yes, Maest-OHHHH!” Selena finished in ecstasy as Lawrence put his mouth to her breast, tonguing her with the same rhythm he was using between her legs, stopping once again just short of sending her over the edge.

  He stopped again and hovered over again, watching her try to stay still. Slightly squirming she bit her lip silently begging him to take her. She would do anything he wanted, sign anything, and agree to anything she just needed him to touch her to fulfill her deep desire for him. Watching her eyes on him he sank himself into her once more, relishing the wanton look in her eyes, dripping with need. She pulled him into her and held him tight, legs locked around his hips as the built their rhythm moving faster and faster until together they shuddered their release. Neither of them spoke as they fell to the bed, holding hands.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Waking up, Selena reached for Lawrence and found the bed empty. Sitting up in the dark she blinked to get her eyes working. Across the room he turned to her, standing at the counter, humming quietly to himself. It was a new side of him. She shivered and snuggled into the blanket watching him standing at the counter, eating something, his white robe accentuated his dark tanned skin. She closed her eyes, keeping very still. Even the way he moved and ate was powerful, determined. A man who needed a contract for every aspect of his life. She laughed to herself and enjoyed watching him as he assumed she went back to sleep. For a moment she wondered how many other girls he had like her. She shut the thought down, knowing he was with her now, and the rest didn’t matter. She would feel better after she had seen the contract.

  A while later, it must have been a few hours as the light was pushing its way through the drawn curtain, Lawrence woke her up with breakfast in bed. He sat beside her and spoke while she ate.

  “I have to go into the office to smooth over some issues. I’ll have a car come taken you back home. They will call when it arrives. I will meet you back there later this afternoon, and we can talk. Oh my Selena, I need to get you away somewhere, soon. But for now, you head home tomorrow, and I fly out for another meeting. So we will have to figure something out when I get back.” He kissed her when she stopped eating and looked at him with wide eyes. He was still in his robe, and he slid in closer to her, bracing her one side. “I don’t want to push you into anything. So while I have sent you the contract, I think we should wait to talk about it until I get back.”

  “Okay.” Selena agreed, forcing herself not to jump up and read it immediately.

  “Okay,” Lawrence repeated tilting her face to his and kissing her long and hard. “I have to go. I will see you later.”

  “Have a good day,” Selena smiled. When he shut the door behind him, she collapsed on the bed. He is not so eager to get the contract signed; maybe he is really flying off to see one of his other girls. One who does what he says and does not cause extra work for him. Signing, she pushed herself out of bed and showered. Getting dressed around Lawrence was always a treat because new clothes that fit her perfectly were always waiting for her. A more casual pants and shirt, conservative yet tailored, made of soft linen; Selena put them on realizing she hadn’t worn a bra the night before. Well so much for conservative. Her breasts bounced playfully under her soft shirt.

  Her phone’s battery was dead, and she slammed her fist in frustration. She had been putting off checking it, to read the contract and now she would have to wait longer. As she was trying to charge it the phone rang, it was her ride. Time to go. She looked around the room one last time to see if there was anything she was forgetting. On the way home, she charged her phone in the vehicle, reading the contract as it charged. At first, it was just a typical non-disclosure agreement, which made sense to Selena because of Lawrence’s power and position. The contract itself was more thorough, and it made their relationship sound like a business deal. And that is exactly what it would be. To the public, friends and family they would have a relationship but in private things would be much more complicated. He wanted her to submit to him, full time. Even reading over his requests, what would be required of her, laid out in simple legal terms, she felt herself growing hot.

  Section IV: Sub must not masturbate without expressed permission. All masturbation must be recorded and shared.

  If Sub disobeys, punishment will be three firm spanks. Four if masturbation leads to orgasm.

  Reaching down Selena touched herself, becoming wet with the idea of Lawrence dictating when she orgasmed, also tempting punishment she wanted him to spank her; she was his naughty girl. Impulsively feeling naughty and turned on by the contract, a feeling that surprised her, Selena took out her phone and set the video to record. In the dark back of the limo, she touched her nipple through her shirt and then slowly pulled it up exposing her chest. Holding the camera to record her actions she played with her nipple, making it hard. Then, since she only had one hand free, she let it roam slowly down under her waistband and rubbed herself, moaning. “Oh Lawrence, I got so turned on reading the contract.”

  After a few minutes, Selena felt frustrated trying to pleasure herself with only one hand. She readjusted and instead viewed the video she made. Smiling at her naughtiness, she sent it to Lawrence with the title, OPEN ALONE. In the message, she wrote that she had made a little video of her reaction to the contract. Feeling pleased with herself and especially naughty she sat back until she arrived back home. To Lawrence’s home. Settling in she talked first to her editor, confirming yes she would be back tomorrow but she would not be back to work until after the weekend. Beth tried to convince her to stay away longer; she and her boyfriend were enjoying the place to themselves. Selena laughed and encouraged them to pretend she wasn’t there. And finally, she confirmed she would go to dinner with her parents.

  After all that, she went to the kitchen to get herself a drink. Her phone rang, and she recognized right away it was Lawrence. Had he watched her video? She answered the phone innocently. “Hi.”

  “You naughty girl.” He growled.

  “Oh Maestro, I couldn’t help it.” She teased. She heard noises as if people entered a previously empty room.

  “We’ll finish this later.” He said and ended the call.

  End of Sneak Peek

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  BONUS SNEAK PEEK: Chasing Bad Boys Book 6

  Chapter One

  “Mayday, mayday… United 106 heavy on approach to Dulles Airport. We’re at 34,000ft in an accelerated stall…”

  At 7:30 pm on Saturday, March 12th, 2016, 22-year old first officer John Samuels relayed a mayday call in a panic. His much more experienced captain had just risen from his seat and was facing him before suffering a heart attack and collapsing onto the control yoke and onto Samuels himself, pushing the yoke forcefully all the way down. A rather thin man with a dark complexion could do nothing to move the enormous, 6’3” and 315lbs captain away from the control yoke or himself. His head was resting on his right leg while his large stomach kept pressing the yoke down.

  “Roger that, United 106. Push the yoke up and…”

  “Negative, Dulles tower. The captain has collapsed onto the yoke and will not allow me to push it up…” At that moment, Samuels paused and placed his right thumb and index finger on Captain Richardson’s neck, searching for a pulse.

  “I am getting no pulse from the Captain, Dulles. I think he’s dead,” Samuels announced. Silence followed his last remark. Five seconds later, he received a completely unhelpful response.

  “Roger that, United 106.”

  The young first officer checked his altimeter. His Boeing 767 had already lost more than 6,000ft of altitude and was falling from the sky like a rock. Unwilling to wait for any assistance from the control tower, he grabbed the microphone over his head and addressed the passengers:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I request anyone with flying experience to come to the cockpit. This is an emergency. Repeat, this is an emergency.”

  However, up until that moment, every passenger had already realized that the plane was near doom. Samuels could hear the screams of his 195 passengers and his all-female cabin crew could not possibly lend him a helping hand. It seemed that the only way out of this catastrophic scenario was brute force. A skinny, 5’9” man like him had no chance of pulling Richardson off of him and, more importantly, the control yoke.

  midst all the chaos, a first class passenger wearing a navy-blue cashmere suit unbuckled his seatbelt and arose to his impressive, 6’4” stature. It was Dean Marshall, heir to the famous Marshall family. Indeed, Dean was an enormous and athletic 214lbs, 32-year old man with more than 3,000 flight hours under his belt in a smaller, but equally sophisticated aircraft. He used to fly all three of his corporate jets all around the States, yet, for once, he had decided not to fly to Washington in one of those. Marshall wanted to keep the reasons for his visit secret. He was on the verge of a major breakthrough: A complex piece of software that could eventually replace pilots. Handsome, eligible billionaires like him never go unnoticed, and the last thing he needed was the paparazzi chasing him around for a statement or a photograph. With short, straight black hair, sky-blue eyes, high cheekbones, a chiseled face, full lips, and a massive chest acquired by endless hours of freediving, Dean Marshall was a great-looking man.

  Straightening the suit jacket, out of the corner of his eye and through the tiny opening in the blue curtain, ten feet to the left, Dean caught a flight attendant rushing through the narrow corridor of the passenger cabin. She was a beautiful, slender blonde. She had to be at least 5’9” (not counting her heels), wearing a dark-blue, knee-long dress and black pantyhose, like all United Airlines female flight attendants. However, the young man had no time for flirting. He turned his head to the right and faced the locked, cockpit door, seven feet across him.

  Just when he reached it, he heard her sweet, feminine voice and sensed a featherlike touch on his left shoulder.

  “Sir!” she exclaimed.

  “Sir, do you any flying experience?” At that moment, Dean faced the young flight attendant and only then did he realize just how beautiful she was: She could not have been more than 25 or 26 years-old. She had long, curly blonde hair, light-green eyes, low cheekbones, a celestial nose, and fleshy lips.

  “Yeah, I’ve been flying jets for more than six years, Ms…Stiles,” Dean responded in his usual, firm tone, reading the name tag on the left side of her chest, three inches below her shoulder. His voice was deep and manly. Immediately, the young woman opened a small cabinet next to her, pulled out a key and opened the cockpit door.

  At that sound, Samuels looked over his right shoulder and saw the two of them entering.

  “Sir? I need your help!” he yelled. Dean remained calm and composed. As a pilot, he had faced similar circumstances before, but he had to know more about their situation before he could assist Samuels.

  “Can you please take the captain off of me and the control yoke?” Samuels’ voice got even louder. Without uttering a word, Dean made two steps to the right and leaned forward. He then went to squeeze his large, long arms under Captain Richardson’s stomach.

  “Ok, help me out here, man. What’s your name again?” Dean kept his voice down; it was important not to add to Samuels’ stress.

  “My name’s John Samuels. What would you have me do, sir?”

  “Name’s Dean Marshall. Push him up. Push him way up. This guy weighs a ton…” Dean gritted his teeth and flexed his arm muscles, in an attempt to lift Richardson. Samuels put his right hand on the captain’s face and his left hand on his chest.

  “Ok. 3,2,1… Push!”

  After Dean’s countdown, both men flexed their muscles. The young first officer soon blushed while gritting his teeth. Squinting at him and also gritting his teeth, Dean saw a large vein on Samuel’s forehead; it was about to explode. Realizing how heavy Richardson was, he held him even tighter in his grasp, leaned forward, and stuck his left cheek on his back. Then, flexing every muscle in his body, he continued his seemingly hopeless attempt to remove the captain from the control yoke.

  A drop of sweat ran down his forehead. Athletic as he was, he still had to give it his all. Finally, after a thirty-second struggle, the two of them managed to pull the captain up. Dean was so exhausted by the effort that he felt his knees shaking. He dropped Richardson at once. The overweight airman landed hard on his back on the cockpit floor.

  Meanwhile, the plane’s altitude was dropping, fast. Samuels squinted at the altimeter.

  “What’s our altitude?” Dean’s voice was trembling; he was gasping for breath.

  “17,000ft and dropping. Mr. Marshall…?” Samuels faced Dean again, on his left.

  “Have you ever recovered from a stall, sir? This is my first flight. Ever. I don’t know if I can do this.” The inexperienced officer was terrified. Dean nodded with his mouth partially open. Before he sat in the captain’s seat, though, he knew that he had to push the control yoke all the way up in order to push the nose of the plane down and reduce the angle of attack. No airplane responds immediately after such action; they all take four or five seconds to respond and those seconds could eventually prove vital for the survival of everyone on board.

  Dean strapped himself in and faced the first officer.

  “Samuels, we can do this. All I want you to do is handle communications, ok? Don’t worry…” Dean then averted his gaze from Samuels and looked outside the cockpit window. It was a dark, moonless night.

  “It’s all gonna be alright,” he added. Dean checked the airspeed and took the controls in his hands lightly. His heart was pounding in his chest. Both men then sensed the plane leveling off, slowly and steadily. The plane flew at 172mph, and its speed was slowly increasing. Before the stall, and due to Richardson, the plane had slowed down dangerously, gradually losing lift. He watched the airspeed increase—175,180, 190. When the plane finally reached 200 miles per hour, Dean posed a question:

  “What’s the plane’s VY (the best rate of climb)?”

  “Uh… 250 is good…” Samuels wiped the sweat from his brow and went on to notify the control tower in Dulles International Airport but, before he did, he chirped:

  “Mr. Marshall, you did it!” He opened his eyes widely and fa
ced Dean; the first officer was delighted. Dean then went on to trim the airplane to a speed near 250 miles per hour. He rolled the trim wheel back a little; it resulted in a decrease in trim speed. His actions did not result in a steady climb. The plane was now less than 10 miles away from the airport. Neither of the two men could hear screams anymore.

  At only 4,000ft, a sigh of relief escaped Dean. He lay back in the captain’s seat and closed his eyes before he addressed the first officer again:

  “Tell them to clear our path for landing. The last thing we want is a mid-air collision. You got control…”

  Chapter Two

  A few minutes before 8pm that night, passengers and crew burst into wild applause. The United Airlines Boeing 767 had just touched down, and they were relieved that their ordeal was finally over. They would all live to tell the tale of their sudden and nearly fatal descent. Isabelle Miles, the flight attendant who had earlier run into Dean Marshall was the first to get up from her seat at the rear exit of the plane. With a huge smile on her face, she ran towards the cockpit door while her colleagues were checking on the passengers to see if anyone was hurt.

  Her eyes were fixed on the cockpit door. It opened just when she arrived at the first class section. Dean opened it and sauntered towards the rest of the passengers. He was the man of the hour, the hero they all had to relied on in order to get out of that predicament alive. But, the only ones aware of that fact were Isabelle and the rest of the first class passengers. Samuels did what he thought was right: He stayed in the cockpit and addressed the passengers using the microphone: