Rogues (A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology #1)

by Anthology

  “Come on, let me out of here. I promise to be a good girl and leave.”

  “No. I’m turning you over to the police.”

  She ran her finger up the front of his shirt to the bowtie at his neck. “You don’t want to turn me in.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “If you did, you wouldn’t have brought me into this place.” She glanced around the room, her eyes shadowed, her lips full and luscious and…familiar.

  Chance wanted to pull her into his arms and feel her body against his, the ample curves defined by the sleek jumpsuit almost as tempting as naked skin. All he had to do was take the zipper in his fingers and tug all the way down to reveal what was hidden beneath.

  As if reading his mind, she raised her hand to the tab and tugged a little. A six-inch gap opened in the front of the suit, revealing milky white, flawless skin.

  “You can’t seduce me. I’m a man with morals.”

  Her soft snort called him out on the lie. “If you had any morality at all, you wouldn’t have carried me in here. This is a den of iniquity, a place designed for sin. Where a man can act out all of his most wicked fantasies, and if I’m not mistaken, the walls are soundproof.”

  Chance’s lips twisted. “They are.”

  “I could scream, and no one would hear me.”

  “That is correct.”

  “I prove my point. You are a man without morals.” She dragged the zipper downward, exposing the swells of her breasts. “A man who can break away from rules, can ignore the law and release a would-be thief if she didn’t actually steal anything.” The zipper dropped lower, revealing a black, lacy demi bra, the cups barely covering the lower half of her breasts and pushing them up high and tight. “Tell you what. I’ll trade you a fantasy for my freedom.”

  Chance swallowed hard, clenching his fists to keep from touching her. Doing so would be wrong. So very bad to take this stranger in the mask when only an hour earlier he’d lusted after the lofty Julia Trace.

  The thief’s hand paused at her belly button.

  Chance caught himself leaning forward to see what was below the zipper line. With the hood covering her hair completely, a glimpse of the thatch of curls over her mons would give him a clue about the color of the hair on her head.

  He sucked in a breath and refused to act on his impulse to reach out and tug the zipper lower.

  “Not interested in my proposal?” She turned away before he could act and walked across to a glass case much like the one in the living room. Only this one did not contain a priceless diamond, and it wasn’t locked. It contained a startling collection of whips, each a different shape, size, and length.

  The thief lifted the glass, selected a cat-o-nine-tails and lowered the lid. Tapping the leather straps against her gloved palm, she faced him. “What have you got to lose?”

  “My business, my reputation, and my freedom if I’m caught aiding and abetting a thief.”

  “The room is locked; it’s just me and you. Who will know?” She handed him the whip and strutted one foot in front of the other to the leather-covered bench and glanced back over her shoulder. Her hand moved in front of her.

  He imagined she lowered the zipper all the way down. His heart stuttered and then raced ahead, his cock straining against his own zipper. The leather in his hand burned into his flesh. He had to swing it, to strike her flesh and make her cry out.

  She pushed the jumpsuit off her shoulders and let it drop down her back, catching on her hips.

  All he could see was the smooth white skin of her back, and he couldn’t remember anything more desirable. As if of their own volition, his feet propelled him forward, one step at a time until he stood behind her.

  “Tell me what you want.” she said, her masked gaze capturing his. “It’s your fantasy.”

  Knowing the request was wrong, but unable to stop himself, he whispered, “I want to whip your naked ass.”

  Her smile curled upward. “Done.” She pushed the jumpsuit lower, exposing the perfect, rounded globes of her bottom. With her jumpsuit bunched around her knees, she leaned forward and rested her hands on the leather bench. “I shouldn’t have broken into your penthouse. You have every right to punish me.”

  He tapped the whip in his palm once. The leather of the nine straps was soft and supple, hardly an instrument of torture. He lifted it and slapped it against his palm harder this time, and the straps stung his skin, making his blood heat and his groin tighten.

  “Stop teasing. I deserve your anger.” She leaned low, presenting her ass for his pleasure.

  Chance groaned, lifted the cat-o-nine-tails and slapped it against her skin.

  “Seriously?” She laughed. “Perhaps you should call the police. You don’t have the balls to punish me the way I deserve.”

  “Silence!” he commanded. “I will determine when to call the police and how to deliver your punishment.”

  “Mmm. That’s more like it.” Smiling, she wiggled her ass and waited.

  Still dressed in his tuxedo, he felt a surge of power slam through him. He slapped the whip against her ass again, this time with enough force to leave faint red marks.

  “Again. Oh please, Mr. Montgomery, I wanted that diamond. I’d have taken it had you not caught me.”

  Again and again, he slapped her, the red marks glowing.

  The thief moaned, reaching between her legs to dip her fingers into her channel. “Yes. My ass stings, and I’m very wet, it would be so easy to take me and do with me what you will. No one will know.”

  “Indeed, who will know if I touch you like this?” He stroked her back with the whip, sliding it around her sides to brush against her breasts. “Or like this.” Drawing the whip back along her spine, he traced her backbone all the way to the crease between her butt cheeks and lower, to brush across her anus and pussy.

  She quivered, raising her bottom higher. He could see her entrance glistening, inviting him to thrust into her, driving deep.

  “You have to promise not to break into this place ever again,” his voice and his control strained.

  “You’ll have to make it more difficult. I might not be able to resist the challenge.” She arched her back, raising her ass another inch or so. “Take me now in trade for my freedom.”

  Chance unbuttoned his trousers. His cock leaped out, hard, straight. He dipped his hand into a bowl on a nearby table and removed a foil packet, stripped away the wrapper, and rolled it down over his engorged member. “I won’t let you go next time.”

  She laughed and braced her hands on the bench, holding tightly. “Ah, sweet freedom is only a fuck away. Take me while my ass still burns.”

  He held her hips in his hand and positioned himself behind her, his cock poised to impale her.

  “Hurry,” she said. “Before the police get here, or I won’t have time to escape.”

  He thrust into her until he was fully sheathed, her channel constricting around him, holding him inside. Then he pumped in and out, aware of the time and the fact he hadn’t called the security team and given them a status. She was right. Only a few minutes remained before they burst through the door and caught her. And he’d be buried inside of her, caught with his pants down and fucking the thief.

  At that moment, his career flashed before his eyes, and he didn’t give a damn. All he wanted was to make love to this stranger in the mask until he spent himself. Then he would gladly let her go to disappear, never to return.

  He thrust one last time, catapulting over the edge, as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Still buried inside of her, he fished his phone from his pocket and answered, fighting to keep his voice even. “I’m sorry. I forgot to call you back.”

  “Is everything okay? We have a team at the elevator, but the locking mechanism has been disabled. We can’t get up there.”

  “That’s good.” He moved inside the woman, his cock pulsing, a most delicious feeling of satisfaction washing over him. “I’ll unlock it in a moment. Everything is okay. I found the problem wit
h the laser lights, and it’s been fixed.” Chance patted her hot ass and pulled free. He helped her straighten and turned her around to tweak a breast between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll be down in a few minutes to see my guests off as they leave.”

  “Okay, if you’re certain everything is okay. I have the police waiting on standby.”

  “Call them off. It was a false alarm.” He ended the call and dropped his phone back into his pocket. “I guess this is your lucky day.”

  “Mmm. You’re right.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her lips.

  He thrust his tongue past her teeth and caressed hers. She tasted of champagne and her perfume wrapped around him. Then because he was in a hurry, he helped her back into her jumpsuit and zipped it up the front.

  Before she could move away, he reached out and yanked the hood from her head. Long rich brown hair cascaded around JT’s shoulders.

  Chance stared into violet eyes and smiled, warmth spreading deep in his chest. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes. Do you need help getting back into your dress?”

  JT shook her head. “No. I can manage.” She rubbed her hand over her ass. “You’re getting better with the cat-o-nine, but you really have to tighten up your security. Anybody can walk right in.” Then she winked. “See you at my apartment later?” Her gaze shifted to the cat-o-nine tails resting on the bench. “Bring the whip, and I’ll show you the right way to use it.”

  An Eye for Love

  Cynthia Young

  Lady Olivia stomped along the length of the drawing room in Lady Salfordton’s house. “Anne, I know Lord Comstock stole it.”

  “How can you be so sure?” her sister asked.

  She threw her hands in the air. “Lord Comstock has always admired the eye miniature. He’s an avid collector. It’s not very large. Easy for him to make away with it. And furthermore, he was visiting the day it vanished. Grandmother gave me that miniature before she died. I must get it back.”

  Anne met Olivia’s gaze with a bland expression, appearing unaffected by the loss. “Accusing a lord is not a trivial matter. Are you certain the thief was him?”

  “Yes, there is no one else who’d shown an interest the way he has. You’re defending him, and you were in his pocket almost the entire evening. Don’t tell me you’re in love with him.”

  Anne gestured with her hand dismissively. “I will tell you no such thing. Besides, other people including myself have admired it on occasion.”

  “True, but one of the servants came across the man and he said he appeared flustered.” Olivia raised her index finger. “He was coming from the direction of the room where I keep my collection.”

  “Did you bring the matter to Father’s attention?”

  “Of course! I did it first thing, but he wouldn’t countenance the notion that Lord Comstock would do such a thing. And Father has no interest in my blasted eyes as he calls them.”

  “Well, there is only one thing you can do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Steal it back.”

  “How? Do you expect me to break into his home and search through his belongings?”

  Anne rolled her eyes. “I don’t expect you to break into his home. Hire someone to do it for you. You should go see Mr. Branson.”

  Olivia’s back stiffened. “Mr. Branson? How will he—of all people—be able to help me?”

  “Mr. Branson is quite capable as an investigator. He’s helped a lot of people.”

  The man was insufferable. Much too handsome for his own good. His light brown hair curled very sexily around his head and made her want to run her hands through it. He always cast sinful smiles her way and his chocolate brown eyes lit with some undefined emotion whenever their gazes met. He was also arrogant. No, she would not be going to Mr. Branson for assistance.

  * * *

  Olivia let out a long-suffering sigh as the home of Mr. Branson came into view. The home was modest, unlike the man.

  Over the years, they’d been in the same social circles since he’d become friends with her father. He attempted to engage her in conversation by asking about her interests, but her heart would start to race and she would remove herself from his presence at the first opportunity. He stirred up feelings in her better left buried. The last time she’d allowed her emotions to overrun her reason, she’d been led to disappointment and—she shook her head to clear the direction of her thoughts—best to keep things in the past where they belonged.

  She peered out the carriage window. The streets were still quiet, and she stepped out, relief filling her body. Scandal and ruin awaited her if she were caught entering his home unaccompanied. But she needed to recover the eye miniature by whatever means available. Her grandmother had been given the miniature by a man with whom she’d had an affair. She later passed the item to Olivia as a reminder to mind her passionate nature. Her grandmother never knew that the reminder had come too late.

  Olivia raised her gloved hand and knocked on the carved wooden door.

  The butler opened the door and peered at her. “How may I be of assistance?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Branson.” She handed the gray-haired man her calling card.

  The man’s brows furrowed as he raised his gaze from the card to stare at her. “It’s rather early for visitors, my lady.” He looked around her as if expecting someone else.

  A chaperone most likely. She leaned forward. “Please, it is a matter of importance. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” No, she would never have come to the man’s house if not for the fact there was no one else she could ask for help.

  The butler glanced around uneasily then opened the door wide, gesturing for her to enter. He led her to a drawing room.

  Her feet sunk into a thick Aubusson carpet as soon as she stepped inside. The room was elegant and not overly masculine. Perhaps a female relative had assisted in the selection of furniture. The furniture appealed to her, and she could see herself reading a book on the red velvet armchair by the fireplace. Mr. Branson’s tastes were similar to hers, which was a discomforting thought.

  Henry Theodore Branson stared at the case file on his desk, adding the final notes before he had it filed away, when there was a knock on his door.

  “There is a Lady Olivia here to see you, sir. I know you don’t like to be interrupted in the morning, but she said it was a matter of urgency.”

  Henry dropped his quill, splattering ink across the page where he’d been writing notes. Lady Olivia? It wasn’t possible. “Who did you say?”

  “Lady Olivia. She’s waiting in the drawing room. May I also add that she arrived without a chaperone?”

  Henry stood. “Thank you, Owens. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Very well, sir.” The butler bowed and left.

  Why would Lady Olivia come—unchaperoned—outside of normal calling hours? The woman barely spoke to him.

  He drew out a handkerchief and rubbed the cloth on his ink-stained hands in an attempt to remove the smudges. A futile task. He left the study and strode to the drawing room.

  Lady Olivia faced away from him. She was bent over, examining a cloisonné jar which sat on a small table.

  He froze. What would it be like to have her bent over him in such a fashion? Immediately, the blood began to pound through his veins. He shook his head. If he didn’t regain control of his thoughts, his attraction would become quite obvious.

  He coughed to clear the knot that had formed in his throat. “Lady Olivia, this is rather unexpected. To what do I owe this honor?”

  She straightened and turned to face him, her eyes wide. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She gestured awkwardly around the room. “You have some very interesting items.”

  None of the items in the room interested him as much as the woman before him. Lady Olivia was dressed in a light blue walking dress and matching bonnet. A large white feather curled around the bonnet toward her face, bringing attention to her cornflower blue eyes.

&
nbsp; “During my travels, I always made a point of collecting unusual items as a reminder of the location. That piece is from the Ming Dynasty.”

  “The detail on the dragons is amazing.”

  He stared, mesmerized, as she traced one of the dragons with an index finger.

  “Perhaps on another occasion I can show some of the rare antiquities I have acquired. I’m certain that is not the purpose of your visit today.”

  A blush stole into her cheeks. “No, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I need you to recover a stolen item.”

  He put his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. Lady Olivia had come on her own without a member of her family accompanying her, risking ruin if she were caught in his home. She was always very proper and never did anything that would cause scandal. Whatever was stolen must be of great value.

  “It’s an eye miniature, and it was taken by Lord Comstock.”

  “Lord Comstock?” Henry scoffed. “Lord Comstock is highly regarded. No one speaks ill of him. Are you certain the item wasn’t misplaced? Did you witness him take it?”

  Her face turned a deeper shade of red. “I don’t have any proof, but he’d taken a keen interest in it and was later seen by some of the servants leaving the room where it was displayed.”

  “Even if he was coming from that direction, it does not mean he stole it. He is considered to be one of the most honest, upstanding individuals in London society. I don’t think he would steal from you when he has a tendre for your sister.”

  Her eyes sparkled in anger. “I am fully aware of his esteemed reputation. He is still a thief.”

  “If I were you, I would exercise caution before accusing a man as powerful as he is of stealing.”

  “Mr. Branson, if you’re not willing to investigate, I will find someone who will or do it myself if I must. I can see my visit has been for naught. I will not waste another moment of yours.” She turned away, hands clenched at her sides, and strode toward the door.

  He should let her go, but she was likely to create more trouble for herself if she pursued this fool’s task on her own.