WRECKER: A Bad Boy Cowboy Romance (A steamy billionaire romance story)

by Natasha Tanner

  “Hey, don’t turn me on too much,” I grin. “You know I can’t resist you, and Imogen is here.”

  “I’m going to take good care of you tonight, once she’s asleep,” he says softly. “Very good care.”

  My insides leap at the thought. The truth is, it’s been almost two years and we’re still all over each other.

  “Hmm… I shouldn’t let her sleep too long now, then,” I joke and he snuggles me close.

  “You might have a point there,” he says. “Hey Imogen, wake up,” he smiles. “Mommy and Daddy are going to need some personal time again tonight!” He gives me that look that makes me melt. “And maybe this afternoon,” he growls, and kisses me again.

  “Kanen!” I laugh.

  “Chastity,” he whispers. “My gorgeous girl.” He kisses me and suddenly looks serious. “Never leave me, okay, baby?”

  “Not as long as I live,” I answer. “How could I?” And I know it’s true, because being with Kanen is the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Deleted Scene

  Together. Finally. Every cell in my body is electric – electrified by Kanen and his passion. The Wrecker. I hope he doesn't wreck me. Like Lacey said, he can wreck my pussy but not my heart. Keep him away from that.

  I've never been with a man like this… neither the furtive kisses in high school, or the kisses with my husband were anything compared to the way he's kissing me now, our tongues intermingling, twining together, as his hands squeeze me closer to him. He’s cupping my ass cheek, the other hand in my hair.

  I can feel it. He's claiming me — he's taking me. He wants me, and I want him more than I wanted anyone in my life. His hands trace the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head. The silky fabric slides over my skin followed by his sensitive, large, callused hands. He's making me tingle all over. I squirm in his arms, barely able to control myself when his hand slips underneath the waistband of my jeans and when it makes contact with the lacy thong I wore, he moans and pulls on the thin fabric. His other hand cups my breast learning his thumb over my nipple. He’s kissing me. His lips are soft, but his kisses are strong. I'm just trying to hold tight onto him, feasting my hands on his beautiful body, that I’ve wanted to touch so many times. Every ripple of his musculature, the softness of his taut skin, the growing heat between us. It's all making me wild. And I grind up against him, seeking the pressure of his hard length against me. His hand sneaks under the lacy edges of my bra and he pushes it aside to take reveal my hard nipple and take it in his mouth. Every swipe of his tongue sends electricity down to my core, making me wetter and wetter. I wonder if he knows how ready I am for him right now. But he's taking his time. He knows he's in complete control and doesn't need to rush. He's taking every second to enjoy each thrill that he's sending through me, each jolt of electricity. My knees are getting weak to the point I can barely stand. He pushes me against the wall, and as he kisses my breasts, he begins to undo my jeans. I wiggle out of them and they fall into a puddle on the floor.

  I can't take it anymore — I need to see him naked. I pull off his shirt, and he stretches his arms over his head, showing his six pack and broad shoulders. And giving me a perfect view of his tattoos. My tongue swirls over his chest, his skin hot and salty in my mouth. I start to kneel down but he pulls me up.

  "No," he says. "We can do that later. I'm going to give you pleasure first." Dragging me over to the bed, he lays me down unhurriedly, and kisses down the length of my body to the edge of my song.“"little bit, kissing the skin he reveals I rounded sides. I'm almost squealing, he's got me so excited. His tongue is hot and wet soft, insistent. And when it plunges into me, it's beyond any pleasure I felt. He works his tongue over my soft folds, lapping at my clit, before picking his head up and smiling a crooked grin.

  “You taste great," he says. "Amazing… And he pulls my thong down fully and opens my legs before burying his face between them. My hips are bucking wildly as he sucks expertly, and when he cocks one finger and pushes it inside me, I can feel a hot core of energy building and building until he pushes me over the edge in complete abandon. I'm screaming his name, writhing, bucking. I come again and again, but it only makes my hunger for him to enter me that much stronger. I pull his arm up finally to get his attention and he lays beside me, his hair falling in his face.

  You’re so sexy," he says. “The way you smell… the way you taste.” He’s kissing my neck as he says this. I squirm closer to him and grab his ass cheek, demanding more of him. I’ve never acted this way in my life but I’ve never had anything so good.

  “We're not done yet," I say.

  “No we’re aren’t done yet," he agrees, grinning. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before.” With these words, just words, I can feel myself getting so wet. I'm almost ready to beg him. What the fuck, I might as well.

  “Take me, Kanen, please?" I say softly, pleadingly. "Don't make me wait…” And he doesn’t. He rolls on top of me with a grin. His nine inches of cock press against me, the head seeking my soft pink petals. "You sure you can take this?" He says.

  "Damn right I can," I say. "And if not I’ll die trying." He laughs, puts my leg over his shoulder and in one graceful motion slides into me. It's the most exquisite feeling, his body next to mine, his cock, so huge, stroking me slowly from the inside. His eyes, dark and intense, boring into mine. Our breath heavy, trembling, in sync with each other.

  He keeps his head down and kisses me. This time it's soft and gentle, or at least it starts that way. But before long, we’re devouring each other.

  About Natasha Tanner

  Natasha Tanner is a hopeless romantic. She loves to write about bad boys and her stories always wind up with a happy ending and some steamy moments.

  She resides in Vermont and hopes you enjoy every one of her books as she strives to become a full-time writer.

  Please see my Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of my titles.

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  About Jess Bentley

  Jess Bentley is an emerging author who is excited to be writing about bad boys and billionaires, and the women who they fall for.

  Wrecker is her first full length novel, but she’s writing fast and hoping to have a huge backlist one day.

  You can sign up for her newsletter here!

  Click below to find her (and friend her) on Facebook:

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  authorjessbentley@gmail.com

  Also by Natasha Tanner

  Hit and Run

  Hit and run? I wish. Meeting Cain Maggiano is more like a full-on, full-body collision.

  And I don't know if my heart will survive.

  Elizabeth

  When you grow up as a mafia princess, you quickly learn that your future isn't your own.

  Family comes first. Always.

  Still, I'm furious when my father orders me to marry the son of our longtime rivals.

  I don't care if Cain is the most gorgeous man I've ever met.

  So what if he's all towering strength, covered in tattoos, and has piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me?

  It doesn't mean anything that I melt in his arms. I'll never trust him. He has too many secrets.

  Then tragedy strikes on our wedding day and I'm forced to trust him.

  My life--and our baby's life--depend on it.

  Our love is an accident waiting to happen. But the thrill of riding her is worth the danger.

  Cain

  She's a tiny Italian diva with big curves and an even bigger attitude.

  I'm not happy about this whole arranged-marriage thing...until I meet my gorgeous bride.

  It's t
oo bad I'm damaged goods--more so than she can ever imagine.

  I've got secrets, and if she discovers them her life will be in danger.

  Then again: our lives are already in danger.

  She's scared of the bad guys.

  She doesn't know yet I'm the baddest thing out there.

  Hit and Run is a standalone, full-length novel with cursing, no cheating, no other women with the male man character, and a guaranteed HEA.

  Excerpt for Hit and Run:

  I stand outside Tony’s brownstone, my best suit on, shivering my ass off.

  I hate New York in the wintertime.

  In my hand is a hastily-purchased bouquet of flowers. I stopped by a bodega on the way. It finally hit me when I walked into the store: I’m marrying a woman I know so little about, I don’t even know what kind of flowers she likes.

  I knock on the door.

  It opens a few minutes later and Elizabeth is standing there in sweatpants and a sweater. She says nothing as she walks away, leaving the door open.

  “Good evening to you, too,” I say sarcastically, walking inside the warm house. I brush my dress shoes on the mat. “Should I take my shoes off?”

  “Do whatever the hell you want,” Elizabeth calls back to me.

  I leave them on. Never know when you might need to make a quick escape. “Nice place,” I say.

  “Do you want coffee or what?”

  “Uh, yeah. Coffee. No cream or sugar.” I walk down the hallway, peeking into the living room. I recognize the guy who had to restrain Elizabeth sitting in the front living room. He looks absurd perched on a floral fabric settee with a newspaper open in his hands.

  I walk into the kitchen. It looks like a chef’s dream setup. Eight-burner gas stove, double oven, copper range hood, a dozen perfectly shining copper-bottomed pots hanging from a ceiling rack, dark marble countertops and mahogany cabinets – this place is incredible.

  But it’s not as incredible as the woman I’m staring at wearing a ratty sweater and skin tight yoga pants.

  “Nice of you to get dressed up on my account,” I say bemusedly.

  Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “Sugar, I am dressed up. And I look fabulous.” She points to her body, her mussed hair in a messy topknot on her head. “It’s all for you, honeypie.” She turns around and fills up a coffee mug from the expensive coffee maker.

  “Like I’m going to complain about you wearing yoga pants,” I say.

  She whips around like lightning. “Stop staring at my ass.”

  “I could stop staring at it if you’d let me touch it instead.” I grin at her.

  She rolls her eyes, shoving the mug of coffee towards me so violently a third of it splashes out of the mug and lands on the countertop.

  I pick it up gingerly, not wanting dripping coffee all over my fingertips.

  “You drink coffee like a little girl playing tea party with her stuffed animals,” Elizabeth says. “Not so tough when you’re outside the ring, are you?”

  “Nice of you to notice,” I spar back at her.

  Elizabeth walks over to the oven and sets a timer for thirty minutes. “My father wants you and I to get to know each other before our wedding in three weeks.” The word wedding sounds like poison in her mouth. “You have exactly half an hour before I either kick you out or Ed drags you out of this house by your ears.”

  “What, am I keeping you from a Murder She Wrote marathon on Netflix?”

  She glares at me. “Fuck you.”

  I shrug casually. “I’m just saying, looks like daddy has you all locked up in your tower here. Must be a pretty boring existence to never be able to leave the house without a bodyguard.”

  “Fuck. You,” she retorts. “If you’re planning on using my hair to climb up and rescue me, I’ve got news for you: it’s not nearly long enough.”

  “Sweetheart, when I take the chance to pull on your hair, you’ll be screaming but it won’t be for rescue.” My eyes flash at her and her cheeks even turn a little pink.

  “You mean when you get the chance to pull on my hair.”

  “I mean when I take the chance that you’re going to give me. You’ll be asking for it. Then it’ll be my decision, and you’ll fucking love it. You’ll be begging for me to finish you off so loudly half of New York will here you screaming.” I lean closer to her.

  She’s really blushing now. She finally glances over at the clock. “You’ve wasted three minutes of your allotted time.”

  “Nah, it wasn’t wasted. You said you wanted to get to know me. And I just told you a lot about myself, I think. A lot about my abilities,” I add with a significant look.

  Elizabeth turns around without a word and grabs a rag, wiping off the spilled coffee from the countertop.

  “I’m boring. Let’s talk about you,” I say, sipping my drink. Damn, this coffee is delicious.

  “No,” she replies shortly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Come on. At least tell me what your favorite flower is.” I point at the bouquet on the countertop. “I had to grab a mixed bouquet.” It looks pathetic and wilted in the confines of this expensive kitchen. “I was hoping I’d get lucky that your favorite was somewhere in there.”

  Elizabeth gazes at the flowers. “No. It’s not in there.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She raises her eyebrows challengingly. “I suggest you just keep trying to figure it out.”

  I laugh. “You sure are a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t fetishize my righteous anger,” she spits back at me.

  “What if I like sparring with you? There’s no harm in that, is there? It’s like foreplay. I think you like this.”

  “I like what?”

  I point at the air between us. “All this built up, unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing your dad doesn’t allow conjugal visits.”

  She throws the rag at me. “That’s it, I’m cutting your time short.”

  “You’re not even going to put the flowers I bought you in a vase?”

  “They can wither up and die and you’re welcome to join them as far as I’m concerned.”

  I laugh. “You’re quick. I like that.”

  “Get out,” Elizabeth says, pointing at the door.

  “See you later. Wifey.”

  She roars like a lion and I’m out the door.

  I knew she was a firecracker before, but now I really can’t wait to bend her over and fuck her on our wedding night.

  I step out into the streets of New York, my conscience pinging at the back of my skull. I brush it away.

  This is all part of the job. Mr. Romano hired me to work for him, sight unseen. I was the first step in reconciling my family with his. And then he set up this ridiculous game.

  Why shouldn’t I enjoy the perks of that?

  I push my guilt aside and step into the crowds of people pushing through to get their holiday shopping finished.

  Elizabeth will come around.

  No woman can resist this. No woman can resist me.

  Crotch Rocket

  I’ve never liked the motorcycle club, but one of its members might just be the man that saves me.

  Lauren…

  I didn’t care that he’s was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.

  I didn’t care that I’d wanted him since I was old enough to know what desire was.

  I was a good girl, and I’d be damned if I fell for him.

  He was big and rough and hard and I didn't want any of that ... until he was all I could think about.

  That was before the El Diablo Rojas kidnapped me.

  Now all I can hope is that Jacob finds me before they make good on their threats.

  Jacob…She said I was a bad boy but she had no idea.

  The Mischief Makers had yet to accept me as one of their own, even though I was f*cking born into them.

  The day I finally find out the verdict, she ends up kidnapped by one of the clubs rivals.

  Now, I don't give a damn about anything but findi
ng her.

  Come hell or high water, I'm bringing her back.

  Excerpt of Crotch Rocket

  Good,” he said with a grin. “But first, we need to go somewhere.” He lowered my arms and began to pull me towards the back room where we stored their alcohol supply. He pushed open the heavy rubber flaps that served as the door and pushed me up against a pallet of beer. “You know what I think?” he said his breath heavy on my neck as he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “I think you need to get laid.”