Falling for the Bad Boy

by Kennedy Fox

  “Just sitting out here enjoying the peace and quiet.” The sarcasm isn’t lost on her, and she takes a few steps forward, closer to me, just as I take a sip of scotch.

  “I was always told southern men were gentlemen. Going forward, I’m going to argue with anyone who believes that and let them know how entirely wrong they are.” She pauses for a moment, glaring at me. When I don’t respond, she continues. “So now who’s the one gawking?” she asks as she crosses her arms over her breasts.

  I didn’t realize I was staring until she spoke, but I brush it off. “Just returning the favor from yesterday.”

  She grinds her teeth. “Let me set the record straight. I wasn’t gawking at you. I was confused that you were shirtless and wet. Most people don’t answer the door like that. At least not where I’m from.” She takes a step closer.

  “Really? Most people don’t shower where you’re from? Hmm. Thought it was a common practice, you know, around the world.”

  I can tell she’s getting annoyed as she narrows her eyes at me.

  To add fuel to the fire and to see how worked up I can really get her, I remind her of the deadline she’s been so worked up about since she arrived. “Don’t you have a book to write?”

  She scoffs. “Well Casanova, I’m actually a little uninspired after going to this crappy pottery shop downtown today. It was absolutely awful in there. You must’ve heard of it, considering you have a few of their pieces. Paris Pottery & Studio?”

  I don’t know if it’s the scotch that’s sending a burning sensation through me or her words, but somehow, I force out a smirk. One of those that make me look like a bigger asshole than I really am.

  “Really? That’s a shame,” I say, completely unamused. She has to know I own the place and she’s trying to get under my skin, but she can’t play the player. Realizing she’s not getting to me, she continues on complaining about nonexisting issues.

  “The walls were terrible. The art was sad. The lady working there was rude as hell…”

  I lift my eyebrows, allowing her to finish, and that’s when I realize she’s carrying a bag with an Eiffel Tower logo and the Paris inscription. A devious smile touches my lips, and I nod my head and listen to her make a complete ass out of herself. Once she’s finished, I stand, set my glass down on the bench and yank the bag from her hand.

  “What are you doing?” she squeals, finally realizing she’s been holding it the entire time.

  “Just seeing which awful piece you decided to waste your hard-earned porn money on.”

  Her mouth falls open, and I can tell she’s offended. “I do not write porn.”

  Nodding my head, I peek inside and see two items wrapped in brown paper. Mugs. It’s the only thing she could have bought. “That’s not what Google says about you.”

  “You did not Google me.”

  My eyes meet hers for a brief moment as I carefully unwrap the brown paper from one of the items. She chose one of the most recent pieces I made one early morning a month or so ago. After looking out the tall windows that surround my office, I painted it the color of the sky just as the sun was rising. As she opens her mouth to say something else, I pretend to almost drop the mug, and she gasps trying to catch it.

  “Just what I thought,” I tell her as I carefully wrap and place it back into the bag and hand it to her.

  With puckered lips, she looks up at the sky as if she’s trying to pluck her words from the clouds. “Fine. You busted me. I know you’re the owner of Paris Pottery & Studio. Are you happy?”

  “I bet that was painful to say.” I’m smiling—a genuine smile—as she stands there defeated that she didn’t win this round.

  “So now you’re going to truthfully tell me your opinion about the shop, right?”

  It’s almost as if she’s trying to force the words off her tongue. Her voice is so low that whatever she says is completely inaudible.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” I say, cupping a palm around my ear.

  She huffs. “I said, I loved it. Everything about the place was perfect. The selection, the art. I was actually shocked when I saw your picture there. I don’t know why you just didn’t say yesterday morning when I was admiring your work.”

  My face softens, and I relax. “Because it’s not a quick conversation, and it’s easier if we don’t get personal.”

  Almost instantly, her demeanor changes as if my words offended her, but it’s the truth. Getting personal with my tenant only causes problems, and she’ll only be here for a week anyway. What’s the point?

  “Well okay then, Casanova. My sincerest apologies for being an ass about your shop. I should probably get back to writing my porn now. Have a good night, Ethan.”

  It’s the first time she’s said my name, and it almost sounds sweet coming from her lips. Vada turns and walks away, and before she closes the door to the cottage, I speak across the garden to her. “Goodnight, Vada.”

  The door to the cottage clicks closed, and I grab my glass from the bench and walk inside. Before heading upstairs for a shower, I pour the melted ice and scotch down the drain and bend over to pet Wilma who’s begging for more treats. I tell her no and go upstairs to my workspace on the third story to make sure the kilns are amping down.

  Unbuttoning my shirt, I stand at the large windows that surround the tower room and look out at the garden. It’s so high up above everything, that it helps me forget the worries that follow me throughout the day. I almost feel as if I’m in the clouds. After checking a few of my pieces on the wooden boards and just as I’m about to turn around, my eyes wander to the cottage.

  Expecting to see Vada working at the small desk, I’m shocked when she walks from the bathroom with nothing more than a towel wrapped around her tight body. She snaps the sheer curtains shut, and the towel drops to the floor in a crumpled pile. As she crosses the room, I swallow hard at the outline of her naked body. Not able to turn away, completely magnetized to her, I watch through the large skylight that’s conveniently positioned above the bed. When she lies down, I know exactly where this is going.

  Her dark, wet brown hair cascades on the pillow, and she looks like pure perfection with her soft skin against the white comforter. Vada closes her eyes, allowing her hands to roam to her nipples, and I memorize every curve she has. If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear the soft sound of her moans and breaths as she pinches and pulls at her nipples. I shouldn’t be watching her, but then she moves one hand down to her clit, and there’s no way I’m walking away now. Taking her time, she teases herself with slow circular movements while palming one of her perky breasts. I halfway wonder if she can sense my eyes glued to her because she’s putting on one hell of a show for me.

  Watching her and imagining the way she feels is making my dick so goddamn hard, I’m going to have to take care of this sooner than later. The woman is teasing herself with such fervor that I’m getting worked up, which isn’t something that typically happens to me. Then again, I’ve never experienced a beautiful woman masturbating in my cottage with every light on, giving no fucks about anything but her pussy.

  I’m halfway tempted to go over there and ask if she needs any help. Just as the thought crosses my mind, she opens her legs wider and slowly inserts a finger. No, she doesn’t need any help. She actually has it all taken care of. Fuck.

  Vada is careful with herself, moving her fingers along her wet slit before inserting them back inside, over and over again. The rhythmic motions as she sinks deeper and deeper is driving me fucking insane. She’s an expert at pleasing herself, and now I’m curious about the sex scenes in her books.

  When her back arches and she picks up the pace, I know she’s teetering on the edge. I wait with bated breath for her release as she continues to simultaneously finger fuck herself and rub her clit. Without slowing down, she gives her pussy exactly what it deserves, working herself to completion. She bites down on her bottom lip as the orgasm violently rushes through her, causing her body to buckle on th
e bed. Her mouth falls open, and I know she’s moaning loudly, allowing the moment to take full control of her. Continuing to ride the euphoric wave until the very last moment, her body eventually relaxes, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I can only imagine how wet she is and the urge to want to taste her overcomes and shocks the shit out of me.

  Her breasts rise and fall, and a small smile hits her lips as she exhales, completely satisfied with what she accomplished. With flushed cheeks and nipples as hard as pebbles, she lies there without a care in the world. Vada’s beautiful and mesmerizing, and I can’t seem to pull away from her. Though she doesn’t have a filter on that mouth of hers, I find myself fantasizing about being inside her, giving her everything she can’t possibly give herself sexually. My heart pounds so hard in my chest as her naked body stretches across the bed, and I can’t deny this feeling inside me. It’s raw. It’s pure lust and hunger. Once her breathing steadies, she slides off the bed, puts on a robe then sits at the desk. Opening her laptop, she begins typing away with a shit-eating grin on her face. I can only imagine the words she’s writing at this very moment. Dirty girl.

  Somehow, I force myself away from the windows and walk downstairs to my bedroom, but the images of her and the look on her face as she came won’t stop replaying in my head. My dick throbs so hard in my jeans that it’s almost painful. Heading to the bathroom, I begin disrobing, dropping my clothes along the way. Once I turn on the water and step in, I close my eyes and grab my dick that’s as hard as steel. As the water runs down my body, I grab myself in long strokes. Trying to steady myself, I place a hand on the wall, picking up the pace, feeling the orgasm ready to rip through me. Everything about her fills my mind. Moments later, my body is convulsing with the quickest orgasm I’ve had in years, and it’s all because of that smart-mouthed writer and her perfect pussy. If only she could write about that.

  5

  VADA

  I wake up refreshed and happy with my word count for the night. It wasn’t my personal best, but the few thousand words I was able to type bring me closer to my goal.

  The morning starts off hectic with a call from my agent. Hannah is one of those ladies who is all business, and for most of the call, she hounds me for my manuscript, but it’s still in draft mode, so I can’t send her what she wants just yet. She really has my best interest in mind, but considering I’m already behind, it all adds to my stress level. I’ve never been late sending a book to my agent, and I don’t plan on starting now. By the time I get off the phone, I’m a bit deflated and realize how badly I need coffee. The day just started, and I can tell it’s going to be a long one.

  After I brush my teeth, I head over to Ethan’s house to grab a cup of coffee. Before opening the door, I look through the window and see he’s standing at the stove scrambling eggs and frying bacon, and it smells so divine.

  Unfortunately for me, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants that are hanging off his hips. Muscles cascade down his back, and I can’t help but admire his biceps. Realizing I’m staring just a little too long, I make my presence known.

  “I didn’t realize you were so domestic,” I say, entering like I own the place. He watches me as I walk to the cupboard, grabbing one of his beautiful mugs from the cabinet and pouring myself a hot cup of coffee. As soon as the caffeine hits my lips, I can’t help but let out a moan. It’s hot and strong, just the way I like the heroes in my books.

  His brows shoot up as he continues studying me. “Do you always moan so loud in the morning or do you reserve that for when the sun goes down?”

  I roll my eyes as I take a seat at the bar. I don’t know what the hell he’s referring to, but I’m not taking any of his crap this morning. Soon he’s plating the food, sets it in front of me, then proceeds to cook himself more.

  “You didn’t have to. I was going to go out and grab some breakfast,” I tell him, forcing myself not to devour it with my hands like a savage because it smells so good.

  He looks over his shoulder and speaks. “Down here, we just say thank you. Now eat it. Swear it’s not poisoned.”

  When he turns back around to flip the bacon, I can’t help but smile. You don’t have to tell me twice. “Fine.” I swallow hard, forcing my eyes to look away from him. “Thank you.”

  The eggs practically melt in my mouth, and the bacon is the way I like it, not burnt but crisp. By the time I’m halfway done eating, he finishes cooking and sets his food down across from me at the table. As he walks over to pour himself a cup of coffee, his bare chest and the muscles on his stomach taunt me. Seriously, this man should be on the cover of a book. Hell, he should be in a book.

  “So’d you have a late night last night?” Ethan asks as he takes a bite of his eggs. The tone of his voice makes me narrow my eyes at him. After being a complete ass yesterday, I’m trying to not let out every thought that’s on my mind.

  “Actually, I did. Finished a chapter I’ve been working on for a few days. I think the fresh air and country living atmosphere is really helping me,” I say honestly, trying to keep it cordial.

  “Hmm.” Ethan snaps a piece of bacon in half and takes a bite. “Want to know what I think is helping you?”

  I roll my eyes again, knowing some smart-ass comment is about to come from his mouth. “Please, Casanova. Enlighten me,” I say, taking a big gulp of coffee.

  “Maybe it was that intense orgasm you gave yourself that helped you write all night.”

  I almost spit my coffee out all over him and hurry to swallow it down. My eyes nearly bug out of my head, and I’m tempted to slap that smirk right off his face. I’m shocked and somewhat embarrassed.

  “What?” I shake my head at him, trying to deny it. “What are you talking about?” I act dumb, hoping he’s just messing with me and trying to get me all riled up like usual. I try to pretend last night never happened. But what the fuck? Does he have cameras in there or something? Sometimes when the words aren’t flowing, having a release helps loosen me up. When I get tense or stressed, I tend to get blocked. So, last night it really helped.

  “Come on, Vada. You don’t have to get all uptight.” He continues eating, his eyes meeting mine. “Honestly, I thought it was pure fucking perfection. So damn hot.”

  My body is on fire because no one has ever watched me touch myself. Often when it comes to sex, although I write about it all the time, I’m a private person. Heat rushes to my face. Ethan saw me completely exposed and vulnerable.

  I stand, getting ready to walk away when he comes around the bar and grabs my hand. With strong arms, he spins me around until my body is close to his bare chest. He smells like vanilla and holds me in place, not allowing me to move.

  “You’re an asshole for watching. Do you have a spy cam in there or something? Are you some sort of perv who likes to watch his renters?”

  Ethan tightens his grip on me, and his arms fall to his sides. “Did you feel the sun beat down on your body this morning?”

  That’s when the skylight above the bed dawns on me. “So you played Spider Man and was climbing on the roof? That’s so creepy.”

  Shaking his head, he smiles. “My work area is in the tower on the third floor. There’s a direct view into the cottage. I couldn’t take my eyes away from you. The look on your face as you came; so fucking hot. But I couldn’t help noticing that you could’ve used some help. There’s nothing like the real deal, sweetheart.”

  “And what, you’re the real deal?” I bark out a laugh. “You’re a dickhead for watching.” I glare at him and wait.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” he finally says, sincerely. I can tell he means it, but it still doesn’t take away what he saw. I never would’ve imagined I could be seen from a distance like that. Otherwise, there’s no way I would’ve put on a show. Especially for him.

  “That was private and not for you.” I poke my finger hard into his chest to really get my point across. “Southern gentleman, my ass. A gentleman would’ve walked away.”

  He
laughs out loud. “No way. No man would’ve turned a blind eye to that unless the ladies aren’t his thing. That’s the only way. So yes, even a gentleman would’ve watched. In fact, if I weren’t a gentleman, I would’ve stalked over and joined in.”

  I gasp at his words, so bold and honest. Though I’m pissed that the moment wasn’t as private as I thought, knowing he watched and enjoyed it is doing unusual things to my body. Tingles rush through me, and I feel exhilarated from it all, but even so, I want nothing more than to escape from his presence. He’s way too close for comfort, and the way he’s looking at me with soft eyes is…different.

  “I said, I’m sorry. Accept it or not,” he tells me before walking back to his breakfast.

  I suck in a deep breath and go back to my plate of food and finish eating without saying a word while Ethan’s eyes are glued to me. When I look up at him, he’s smiling, chewing with his mouth open.

  “Have some manners, at least. Not only are you an ass, but you’re disgusting, too.” As always, my words don’t faze him. He stands and places his plate in the sink then walks around and grabs mine. His arm brushes against my skin and goose bumps trail up and down my body. Tucking my arms in my lap, I don’t dare give him any fuel to add to his country bumpkin bonfire because he’s enjoying this way too much.

  I’m intrigued, but I don’t say a word. Sometimes the silent treatment is more powerful than saying what’s on my mind.

  Turning around, he gives me a smirk as he leans against the counter. “So one more question for you. What time should I be in the tower tonight? Same as last night?”

  “You’re seriously one of the biggest douchebags I’ve ever met.”

  “Oh, come on. That can’t be true. I’m sure you’ve met bigger ones.” He grins, knowing he’s getting under my skin.