Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  The room gets still.

  It’s hot in here.

  Or maybe it’s just the booze.

  Maybe it’s that spending all this time with her, and being so near her after all these years is making me insane.

  “We had a good run, right?” she says softly.

  I nod, my eyes never leaving hers.

  “Ever wonder if we could have kept going for longer?”

  “All the fucking time, Aela,” I say softly. “All the fucking tim—”

  She’s out of her chair and falling into me in seconds, moaning as her lips press to mine.

  I growl, my hands going to her like they were made to touch her, gripping her tight as I pull her into my lap. I roar inside as I claim her sweet lips, taking that kiss like it’s mine to take.

  Aela whimpers, her arms flinging around me, her legs going astride my waist. My hands drop to her ass, grabbing her, pulling her against the bulge in my pants and tasting those lips like I’ve been starving for them.

  My head’s spinning as we crush together, like we’re trying to get as close as possible. Like we’re trying to melt into each other. Hands find shirts, and she’s pulling mine up my chest, over my head and pulling it off my arms to toss it away.

  Her fingers trace more of the ink she’s never seen, her breath heaving as she traces my muscles, her hands sliding over my skin.

  Our eyes lock, and we crash back together.

  My hands slide to her waist, slipping up under her t-shirt and slowly pushing it up her torso. I peel it up and off of her, her long red hair catching in it, and my eyes linger on another tattoo I’ve never seen before — the soaring bird on her ribs.

  “That’s new.”

  “Yeah,” she whispers, her eyes darting over my face. I move in again, crushing my lips to hers. I move down to her neck, kissing the skin there, the swirl of ink moving over her shoulder, the feather at the inside of her other arm.

  She pulls me back up, kissing me hungrily. My fingers slide over the waist of her yoga pants as she reaches back for her bra and lets it slip away.

  I pull back, and growl hungrily at the sight of her breasts.

  “Okay, that’s new.”

  Holy shit.

  My eyes lock onto the two small, silver piercings through her pink nipples, and my cock throbs.

  Aela blushes. “I— Yeah, that’s Swiss boarding school and too much absinthe. I—” her words fail, and she moans as my mouth drops to them, my lips closing over her nipple and my tongue curling around it as she cries out.

  “Fuck, Liam.”

  They might be new to me, but I’m going to make them familiar. My tongue swirls over her hard little nipples, sucking at the metal barbells there and making her gasp as her back arches against me.

  Aela went away the ballsy, but inexperienced and blushing girl I loved.

  I don’t know what we are now, but the woman sitting on my lap here in this kitchen is somehow even more gorgeous than she ever was.

  There’s something about the ink.

  The piercings.

  The hint of darkness in her eyes.

  It’s all new, it’s all a little bit darker…

  And I fucking like it.

  And then there’s the way her skin feels. The way she moans in that high little way I remember. Because the rest of her is all familiar. The rest of her is everything I’ve yearned for, for years.

  She rocks her hips to mine, and I’m slipping my hand under the edge of those yoga pants before I know it. I’m pushing deeper between her legs, my tongue swirling over her pierced nipples as my fingers slide under the edge of her panties to find her soaking wet.

  Slick, burning heat — ready for me.

  Aela cries out, her fingers threading through my hair as mine push against her hot, slick pussy and ease inside. She whimpers as I slide them in and out, my thumb brushing her clit as my tongue swirls over her nipples.

  I’ve dreamed of this, and I’ve wanted this. I’ve lusted for this since that day she left, even when I didn’t know I was.

  And now she’s here.

  Now she’s mine again.

  “Liam,” she purrs my name, making my cock throb in my pants.

  She’s gasping, moaning, clinging to me as I work her higher and higher.

  “I— We—”

  I pull away from her breasts, crushing my lips to hers. “We what?”

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “No?”

  I curl my fingers deep, and she shudders for me, rocking her hips against my hand. She whimpers when I slip them out.

  “Please,” she whispers.

  “Please what,” I growl. “I thought we shouldn’t be doing this?” I tease.

  “You’re terrible,” she gasps.

  “And you’re dripping wet.”

  She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, a primal groan escaping her.

  “What do you want, Aela?” I growl.

  “I want to—”

  “Tell me,” I husk into her ear, feeling her panting as I trace my finger up and down her slick lips.

  “I want you to make me come.”

  My fingers slip back in, coaxing against the spot inside as my thumb rolls over her clit again and again. My other hand grabs her ass possessively, making her rock on my lap, fucking her against my hand. I trail my lips over her neck, leaving marks I know will still be there later, and I know how dangerous that is, but I still don’t really care.

  Not when I have her like this.

  She whimpers, crying out, gasping as she claws at my shoulders and my back, when suddenly, it’s like lightening slamming through her body. She cries out, her slick pussy tightening on my fingers, her body writhing against me as the climax tears through her.

  My name on her lips.

  That soft way her mouth falls open.

  The way she throws her head back and swallows the scream.

  She slumps forward against me, sagging into my chest as she catches her breath.

  “Shit, that…” She sucks in a breath of air, when she suddenly stiffens. “Oh my God.” Her body goes rigid against me.

  “Aela—”

  But she’s suddenly slipping off my lap, and backing away from me before I can even process it.

  She shakes her head, her eyes burning something fierce. “Fuck, what are we doing?”

  “What comes natural to you and me,” I growl as I stand. I start to move towards her, but she shakes her head, backing away.

  “I— Jesus, Liam! If Mick found—”

  “He won’t.”

  “Liam,” her eyes plead with me, but I move towards her, pulling her against my chest. I lean down to claim those lips again and to show her that all of this shit doesn’t matter, but she pulls away.

  “We can’t.”

  “We can’t or you’re just scared of—”

  “Can’t.”

  She pulls away from me, out of my arms. Her eyes flash once more, she turns, and then she’s gone from the room.

  I stand there for another second before I slump back in my chair and swear as I reach for the whiskey.

  Chapter 14

  Aela

  “We are so glad to see you back here, Aela!”

  Mrs. Dalton, whose husband runs the butcher shop on Welker Street, smiles as she reaches out to put a hand on my arm.

  “Your father would be so proud of you sweetie, comin’ back here like this.”

  The Boston Irish lilt is strong in her voice, and while I know the accent is comical to some people, if you’re from here?

  Well, if you’re from here, it just sounds like home.

  We’re standing by the fireplace in Mick’s house — Mick who’s certainly upgraded to the palace he’s living in now since he took over after my dad. All around us, people laugh and mingle, eating hors d'oeuvres, sipping beer, and wine, and whiskey.

  And this is the single last place I want to be.

  The party is being thrown as a sort of celebration
thing for the neighborhood to toast Tommy and my nuptials.

  Gross.

  Really, I know this is all for Eamon. I mean, half the people here are involved in the Saints. Lieutenants, captains, regular foot soldiers, and just the neighborhood people who’re close enough to get it.

  Half the people in this room completely understand what’s going on. They might not know why exactly I’m marrying Mick’s son, but they know enough to understand that this has less to do with true love and more to do with business.

  Mrs. Dalton, however, is not one of those people.

  Her lips purse as she swallows a mouthful of wine. “Now, I didn’t know you and Tommy were, uh…”

  “Getting married?” I say flatly.

  “Close?” She smiles.

  “Well—”

  I’ve practiced this.

  I hate that I have, but I did, earlier this morning. I stood in the mirror and made myself say things like “oh, Tommy and I go way back,” or “well we were a thing back then, but we had to hide it.”

  Eventually, I realize I’m just talking about Liam, using Tommy’s name as a placeholder. That thought somehow makes it both easier and worse, all at the same time.

  Adding to that is the lingering tingles of what happened the night before. The memory of his touch, the familiar feelings coming rushing back.

  The way his lips tasted.

  The way he grabbed me like he owned me — like he used to. The way his fingers slid over my skin like they never lost their way. Like they never forgot the map of my body.

  And just like before, it melts me.

  And it gets me soaking wet.

  I swallow the heat from my face as I blink and take a large sip of my own wine before looking back to Mrs. Dalton.

  “Tommy and I go way back,” I say mechanically. “We had to hide it back then, before I left,” I say flatly.

  And all I’m thinking of is Liam’s face.

  “Oh, well.” She smiles, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “It’s so nice to have you back, honey.”

  “How’re the lines coming?”

  I jolt at the sound of his voice behind me at the drink table.

  “Fine,” I mutter, half turning towards him. “You’re too close.”

  I can feel Liam grin behind me. “What?”

  “You’re too close to me.”

  “Am I?”

  “You know you are,” I hiss under my breath. “People are watching.”

  “It’s my job to protect you, isn’t it?” He says it with a hint of a smile.

  “You need to protect me by being so close to me that we’re touching when I get a refill?”

  “It certainly does make things harder.”

  I grin.

  “Dirty mind.”

  I blush, biting my lip and raking my teeth across it as I look back down at my wine.

  “You know what I’m having a hard time with?”

  I bite my lip. “Talking with Mrs. Dalton about the silver line bus schedule? Cause I was having trouble keeping up with that too.”

  “I’m having a hard time looking at you in this perfectly modest skirt and this very boring blouse and cardigan combo, when—”

  “My cardigan is not boring.”

  “I wasn’t finished.”

  I swallow, my mouth snapping shut as my eyes lock on his.

  “And I’m having a hard time with that,” he leans close and growls into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine to very inappropriate places. “Because I know what these people don’t know about the prim and proper Aela Reilly standing before them.”

  My pulse quickens, and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “Besides the tattoos and those very un-prim and proper new piercings of yours?”

  I blush heatedly, and he grins wickedly as he leans very close to my ear again.

  “I know that underneath the cardigan, and the church small-talk, and the practiced lines, lies a dirty girl who always loved it when I took control and made her beg me for it.”

  I gasp.

  Literally, out loud, right there in the middle of the party.

  I gasp as Liam Roarke’s crude, filthy words tease their way right to that dark, dirty place inside of me.

  The place that remembers.

  The place that never stopped remembering the ways he could demand the pleasure from my body. The wicked, dirty things he’d whisper in my ear that’d have me soaking wet and as he said, begging him for hit.

  “You’re too close.” I say with a shaky voice, trying to re-claim my thoughts and end my traitorously filthy trip down memory lane. “People will see us.”

  “People like Tommy?”

  “Liam—”

  I take a deep breath and turn to look at him. “This isn’t a game, you know.”

  “Sweetheart,” he growls into my ear. “If this was a game, I’d stop fucking playing it.”

  My eyes narrow. “No one asked you to make it more complicated,” I hiss.

  “Oh, was that you complaining last night when you were coming on my fingers?”

  I blush bright red as my mouth snaps shut and my eyes go wide.

  “Lower your voice!” I squeak out, glaring at him. “Jesus, Liam, if Mick—”

  “Well then maybe,” he growls, feigning like he’s reaching for a beer as he leans in close.

  His lips brush my ear, and I shiver.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere where Mick won’t see us.”

  The temptation jolts through my body like fire, and before I can even stop it, my body responds.

  My pulse quickens. My breath catches.

  The heat pools molten between my legs.

  What am I thinking?

  This is thin ice. We’re in the crosshairs here, and one mistake, one slip-up, one inkling that there’s something going on with Liam, and we’re in trouble.

  And by trouble, I mean possibly dead.

  Liam’s lips brush my ear again, and I’m right back to the night before, in the kitchen. I’m right back to feeling the rush of heat as his hands move over my skin, as his lips taste mine.

  He remembers the way to make my body come alive for him, as if no time has passed at all.

  And I’m about to say no — really, I am. I’m about to walk away, and go drown myself in two-dimensional conversations with people I don’t really know, and in lies, fake smiles, and booze, when I gasp.

  …Because Liam’s hand is trailing up the back of my thigh.

  “Are you kidding me?” I hiss, swatting his hand away. “People could see us,” I mutter through clenched teeth, my eyes narrowing at him.

  I think we both notice that my concern here is that we might be seen, not that he’s doing it in the first place.

  “Which is why I said we should go someplace they won’t,” he growls into my ear again, fake-reaching for a cocktail napkin on the table behind us. “Or we could just stay here while I make you come right here at the refreshments table. Up to you.”

  My eyes fly to his.

  Fuck.

  I want to say no to this, but one look at those sharp blue eyes of his?

  Yeah, no. Game over.

  One look into those eyes and I’m not saying no to anything.

  “Hall bathroom, upstairs,” I whisper, shocked at the words coming out of my mouth.

  His brows go up. “You familiar with Mick’s house?”

  “No, but I debated hiding in there for the whole party earlier when I went to use it.”

  His lips curl into a hungry grin. “I’ll meet you up there.”

  Chapter 15

  Aela

  My heart pounds as I pace the bathroom floor.

  This is insane.

  I’m at my own damn wedding party, however ridiculously fake a marriage and however terrible Tommy is.

  But this is still insane.

  And wrong.

  But it’s the kind of wrong that’s got my body on fire, my tongue darting out to wet my lips as
I feel the anticipation build.

  There’s a knock on the door, startling me. I take a deep breath, turning to look into the bathroom mirror above the double vanity.

  My body shivers, wanting him. Wanting him again after so long not having him.

  Wanting him and the danger that comes with him, because really, there was always danger following Liam Roarke.

  Maybe that’s why I liked it. Maybe that’s why I looked for it after him, chasing the rush with high-stakes cards. Counting them, knowing the faces, the tells.

  The knock comes again.

  I take one more shaky breath, smoothing my skirt and feeling the wicked rush as I meet my own eyes in the mirror.

  God, do I want this.

  He’s on me the second I open the door, his mouth crushing to mine as he pushes us into the small room and kicks the door shut. He shoves me against the marble vanity, pushing me back onto it as my hands rip at his shirt, needing to feel him.

  “We don’t have much time,” he growls, his voice rumbling into my neck.

  “Did we ever?”

  He grins. “I guess we’re good at this.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  I grab him and kiss him as he shoves my skirt around my waist. I moan as he slips my panties down, his hand trailing back up my thigh.

  “I want you,” I gasp, feeling his fingertips tease just shy of my pussy. His fingers slip high on my thigh, making me shudder and I rock my hips in a vain attempt to make the connection.

  “Just fuck me,” I moan.

  Liam grins. “Something else first.”

  “What?”

  “Something I’ve been dying to do,” he growls. His lips close on my earlobe, his teeth dragging over the tender skin and making me shiver.

  “Something I’ve been dying to taste.”

  Oh fuck.

  He drops to his knees, pulling my legs wide apart as my pulse races in my ears.

  “Fuck, Aela,”

  I gasp, and just manage to cover my own mouth and silence my yelp as his mouth finds my pussy. His tongue slides in, curling against that sweet spot and dragging up to my clit.

  I throw my head back, fingers slipping into his hair and gripping tight. His hands grab my ass possessively, lifting me off the cold marble and pulling me against his mouth. His strong tongue drags up and down, teasing all the right places like he always did.