Falling for the Bad Boy

by Kennedy Fox

  “I write about cunts and cocks all the time,” I blurt out like it’s an excuse for my body’s response.

  His brow arches, amused. “Well, I hope you’re taking some good notes, baby. I’m about to show you just how bad I can be.”

  Before I can truly comprehend his words, he steps back, grabs my ankles from around his waist and places them on top of his shoulders. He nearly bends me in half when he leans back over my chest and roughly pushes inside.

  “Shit,” I curse, as I suck in a deep breath. “This sounds a lot easier in books.”

  “Not as flexible as your characters?” He winks, driving his cock in deeper.

  “Not when I spend the majority of my time on my ass.”

  “Or back,” he counters.

  The laughter that releases is hijacked by a deep moan. He increases his pace, wraps his hand around my neck again, and pulls my face closer to his.

  “I want you to watch, Vada. Watch my cock sliding inside you. Watch me fucking you because sweetheart, it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

  Straining my neck to see where our bodies connect, I watch as he slowly pulls out—so slow it’s torturous. His piercing pushes against the latex, and just as I’m about to beg him to take me out of my misery, he forcefully pushes back inside me.

  “Ah, God!” My head starts to fall back in pleasure, but Ethan grips me harder.

  “No. Watch,” he demands.

  Blinking, I do.

  Fuck, it’s so hot. I’ve written several sex scenes over the years, yet I’ve never actually watched with intention.

  “See how our bodies stay in sync?” His eyes lower. “Like they were made to fuck each other.”

  “Wow…real Shakespeare shit right there,” I tease, getting antsy because I need to come again. Just when I feel the orgasm building, he slows his pace.

  “I’m a man of many qualities.” He grins.

  “I have no doubt.”

  “You need to come,” he says—not a question.

  I nod, eagerly.

  “Show me how you rub your clit,” he orders.

  “Watching me once wasn’t enough for you?” I fire back.

  “I could watch you every day and never get bored. Rub your clit until you come. I want to watch you while I fuck you.”

  My cheeks redden at the memory of him seeing me. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I can’t help it, especially since his abs were the reason I came as hard as I did that night.

  Obeying him, I slide my hand between us and circle my clit. His grip around my neck relaxes as the pressure builds.

  “Jesus Christ. You squeeze my dick so fucking hard when you get close.”

  “I know.” I smile. I have way more experience getting myself off than I care to admit. Trust issues, failed dating attempts, and lack of social skills is to blame.

  “Open your eyes. Watch our bodies as you come.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I say, breathlessly. My fingers circle my clit faster and harder, and soon it’s all too much to bare.

  “Vada!” he growls, grabbing my attention. My eyes shoot open, and as soon as I see his intent stare, my body unravels.

  He slows his pace as I ride out the wave, my hand falling slack against the mattress. My chest rises and falls as I feel him slide all the way out.

  “I won’t be surprised if I’m missing a layer of skin tomorrow,” Ethan teases. “Your pussy’s so fucking hungry.”

  Yeah, it’s been a while. Tell me something I don’t know. I roll my eyes at myself, not saying the words aloud.

  “I’m not done with you yet.” His words vibrate against the shell of my ear, and soon I’m being lifted into the air and flipped onto my stomach. “Ass up.”

  “My entire body is jelly,” I try to explain, but when he slides his hand up my spine, I push my ass out for him.

  “I warned you,” he growls. “There’s no way I’m fucking you without getting an ass view.”

  “You warned me?” I question, putting my body into position so I can rest my head on the mattress while my ass is in the air, patiently waiting.

  “I knew you were tense as hell, and the only way you’d relax was to fuck you so good, you’d be feeling me days later,” he reminds me, repeating what he told me almost word for word.

  “Right,” I murmur to myself, but by the way he positions his cock against my pussy, I know he heard me.

  “I think it’s safe to say you’re pretty relaxed now, but just in case, I plan to fuck you until we’re both raw and bruised.”

  Raw and bruised? What does this man have planned for me? I wondered but didn’t have time to dwell on it before his length was deep inside me.

  My fingers dig into the sheets as he palms my ass cheeks and spreads them apart. He squeezes my hips and pushes me harder and faster into him as he speeds up his own pace.

  “Fuck…fuck…” I moan, closing my eyes tightly as I take every brutal thrust. One of his hands release me, but within seconds, I feel it smack against my ass cheek. “Ah!” I yelp, jerking forward.

  “That’s for teasing me with this ass since the second you got here.” He does it again and once more before tightening his grip on my hip and fucking me so hard, I fear I might break.

  I smile although he can’t see me, knowing that he’s been lusting over me since the moment we met.

  “Goddammit, Vada…” he hisses, anger and lust woven into his tone. “You feel too fucking good.” Releasing his hold on me, he leans his body over my back and snakes a hand over my breast, squeezing roughly. I’ve always liked my breasts touched and played with, but by the way Ethan is handling them, you’d think they’d done him wrong in some way.

  His hand slides down my stomach and lands on my pussy. Arching my back more, his cock moves in deeper while the pad of his finger rubs my clit.

  “I love how tense you get before you come,” he whispers into my ear. “Then a second before you do, your body relaxes, and you release everything out of your mind. For a moment, you have no thoughts, no concerns, no worries. It’s pure fucking bliss.”

  “Yes,” I moan in agreement. “Coming is the best high there is.”

  “Then I better make sure it’s worth your while, huh?” His lips smile against my neck. “Your pussy is like heaven. I never want to vacate.”

  “Sorry, one-night stay per guest only.” I grin.

  “Fuck that,” he growls, adding more pressure to my clit as he speeds up his pace. “The only guest allowed to check-in is my dick, sweetheart.”

  “Who knew you were so territorial?” I mock, knowing he hasn’t been up to this point.

  “Not me. Definitely not me,” he says as if he’s shocked by his own words. “However, that was before your cunt took over my brain.”

  Before I get the chance to make another joke about his southern charm, my body goes rigid, and his fingers continuously rub my clit as my body tightens all around him. Seconds later, he goes still, and I know he’s not far behind.

  Leaning back, he grabs my hips roughly and our bodies rock together. Our skin smacks together so hard and fast, I can barely keep up.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses on a moan as he stills, our bodies shaking together as he releases inside me.

  He groans as he pushes once more against me and curses. “Shit, Vada.”

  My entire body goes lax. I can’t feel my arms or legs. Before sliding out and tossing the condom, he leans over me and presses a sweet kiss against my neck.

  I flip over and settle into the bed, enjoying the warmth. Although the room is dark, there’s a flicker of light coming from the moon outside the window. It glows against his tan skin, accentuating every part of him that was just mine. Stunning and beautiful, I can almost see right through him and the facade he hides behind.

  “Mission accomplished,” he says as he lies next to me in bed.

  “Mission?” My brows arch. “I was a mission?”

  “Rode my dick raw and yet…I want more.
” He turns and looks at me, waiting for my reaction.

  I’m not quite sure how to react, but I smile in agreement.

  “Yeah, I could get used to this,” I say, dreamily. “Although, it feels like my pussy needs an ice pack and a cigarette.” I squeeze my eyes shut the moment the words spew from my lips. “These scenes are way sexier in romance novels.”

  He chuckles, pulling the blankets that survived and covers us up. Even though I know he’s not the flowers and chocolates kind of guy, I’m hoping this doesn’t make things weird between us. I still have four days here, and if we can stick to the sexual stuff only, this will be the best writer’s retreat of my life.

  10

  ETHAN

  I haven’t slept with a woman since Alana. I’ve had plenty of one-night stands, but sleepovers weren’t a thing I allowed. At least not until right now.

  Having Vada sleeping against my chest feels intimate, yet I’m not pushing her away like I should—like I usually do. Her body heat feels nice, and for the first time, I’m not going to bed feeling empty and alone.

  Even if that’s exactly how I wanted it all these years.

  Closing my eyes, flashes of Alana and the memory of the life we shared evades my mind. I manage to get a few hours’ sleep before those memories wake me.

  After a half hour of watching Vada sleep next to me, I decide to stop fighting it and get out of bed. I slide on my shorts, and before leaving the guest bedroom, I turn around and stare at her. I don’t know what comes over me, but I walk to her side of the bed, pull off the covers, and wrap her in my arms. As quietly as I can, I carry her out of the room and walk us to my bedroom where I lay her down and cover her back up. She looks good in here. Looks right.

  And that scares the shit out of me.

  The guest room is the only bed I’ve let women be with me in, and the status of being a one-night only hookup doesn’t fit right with Vada. I know I’ve set the rules for us, and we both know what to expect of this, but our connection isn’t on the same level as a random one-night stand. Leaving her in there just didn’t feel right.

  Once I’m in the hallway, I shut the door and tiptoe down the stairs. I decide to make a pot of coffee since I know sleep won’t be coming to me anytime soon.

  After filling up my mug, I head upstairs and go to the tower. The sun should be rising shortly, and the tower has a perfect view of it.

  Memories of Alana and I first looking at this house comes to mind. We met in a small town, high school sweethearts you could say, and were each other’s firsts. Everyone expected us to get married, have kids, and live happily ever after.

  Too bad life had other plans for us.

  After living the apartment life for two years, we decided it was time to start house hunting. It just so happened we found the right one at just the right time. Alana was six months pregnant when we found our house.

  “Babe, come check the view from up here!” she called from the third story when I was still climbing the stairs to the second floor. It was a traditional southern house with original wood, wraparound porch with three-bedrooms and two point five bathrooms. It even had a big yard, which was something we both wanted.

  “Coming, hold on,” I called back. “How’d you get up there so fast?”

  Alana might’ve been pregnant, but she didn’t let that stop her. She was as active as she’d always been. Both in and out of the bedroom.

  “This is the part of the house I wanted to see the most. It’s amazing,” she said with adoration in her voice.

  I finally caught up to her, taking the final steps into the tower. Windows surrounded it in a complete three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. You could see for miles up here.

  “Wow,” I said as I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind. She covered my hands with hers as we stood in the middle of the tower and just stared out.

  “I know,” she whispered. “Imagine all the sunrises and sunsets we could watch from up here.”

  “And fireworks over the water,” I added. “It’s perfect.”

  “It’s like being on the Eiffel Tower.” She beamed, and I knew no other house would even come close to this one. Alana had been obsessed with the Eiffel Tower since our honeymoon when we visited a couple years ago. The beauty of it inspired her to focus more on what made her happy.

  “I could do all my pottery up here,” she told me as we both glanced around the space. “Put my wheel in the middle, my wood shelves along that wall over there for all my mugs, and put the kiln on the other wall. What do you think?” She looked over her shoulder at me with pleading eyes. Alana loved pottery, and even more, loved creating it. I couldn’t deny her of what made her truly happy, especially if it meant I got to see that beautiful smile every day.

  “I think you’re absolutely right. The space is perfect for it, and you really can’t beat the view.” I gave her a tight squeeze for emphasis. “You think you’ll still have time after the baby arrives?”

  “Probably not at first, but eventually when we have a schedule down,” she explained, and I agreed.

  “Good.” I kissed the top of her head. “You’re too talented not to.”

  “If you don’t buy me this house, I’ll divorce you,” she teased with a laugh.

  “It’s pretty perfect,” I agreed. I turned her around and knelt down. Rubbing a hand over her belly, I spoke softly, “What do you think, Paris? Do you want this to be your first home?” I looked up at Alana, smiling down at me as I talked to our daughter.

  Seconds later, she kicked.

  And that was all the confirmation we needed.

  We put in an offer, and a month later, we moved in. I’d spent the following few weeks finishing up the nursery, knowing Alana wanted it perfect. The house needed some updating, but I knew we’d have to do a little here and there until it was complete. It was something we were supposed to do together.

  At thirty-two weeks, Alana went into early labor and had no choice but to deliver. She was preeclamptic, and the doctor didn’t want to risk waiting longer. As much as we were excited to finally be meeting our little girl, I was also scared. Becoming a father for the first time is something I’ve been thinking about for years. Especially with Alana.

  Everything started out smoothly as they induced Alana, and it became a waiting game as she started getting contractions. The doctor warned us it could be awhile before she’d be ready to push, so in attempt to keep her distracted, we talked about all the remodeling plans we had for the new house.

  The next several hours were spent getting Alana ice, rubbing her back and shoulders, and massaging her feet. The contractions became more intense and closer together. She was tough, always had been, and even though she wanted to have a natural birth as much as possible, she started to beg for an epidural.

  “Alana,” I said softly. “You’re doing great, baby. Are you sure you want the epidural?” I asked because she had made me promise to not let her get one, even though I didn’t see any reason not to when she was in this much pain.

  “I can’t bear the pain, E. It’s like she’s clawing her way out,” she cried, and I winced. I couldn’t stand watching her suffer any longer.

  “Okay, baby.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I’ll tell the doctor.”

  “Ah!” she screamed out and clenched my fingers in a forceful fist. She squeezed her eyes and lips, and I knew something was wrong.

  I paged the nurse, and shortly after she came back in the room, she checked all of Alana’s stats on the monitor and read the contractions record. The baby monitor that wrapped around her belly had shifted slightly.

  Once the nurse retightened the strap and the stats flashed on the screen, a look of worry flashed across her face.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, concerned.

  “The baby’s heartbeat is slower than I’d like, so I’m just going to page the doctor and have him come check you out.”

  She rushed out before I could ask more questions.

  “Is the baby going
to be okay?” Alana’s eyes watered, and I knew I had to keep her calm.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, but the doctor will come and check,” I reassured her, but I wasn’t certain myself.

  Within a few minutes, the doctor had arrived and checked hers and the baby’s stats again. Two nurses followed.

  “Alana, we’re going to roll you to your side and see if that helps increase the heartbeat. Okay?”

  The nurses helped Alana get comfortable on her side, and after a moment, the heart rate went back up.

  “Perfect.” The doctor smiled.

  “Is she okay?” Alana asked.

  “She is for now, but if the heart rate drops again, we’ll have to deliver via C-section.”

  “What? Why?” Alana cried, looking panicked.

  “Vaginal delivery is too risky if the baby is in distress. Her heart rate decreasing during birth could put her at risk for too many complications, and I’d like to avoid all that.” His words come out rehearsed, and I wish he’d give us some closure that everything was going to be okay.

  We waited an hour before the doctor returned and told us the bad news.

  “I’m sorry, the heart rate isn’t staying as steady as much as I’d like. I’d feel more confident if we did a C-section to avoid any other risks.”

  Since she was preeclamptic, she was already a high-risk case, so we had no choice but to follow the doctor’s orders.

  Everything happened so fast after that. The nurses prepped Alana for surgery, and I changed into scrubs. They gave us a briefing of what to expect, but no matter what they told us, none of it felt real.

  They took Alana in first, and once the doctor was ready, the nurse escorted me inside by her.

  “Baby,” I whispered, kissing her cheek. She looked terrified and as scared as I was, I couldn’t let her see that.

  “E,” she whispered back. “Please tell me she’s going to be okay.”

  I kissed her again. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise, okay?” I flashed her a smile. I couldn’t see much over the sheet they put between Alana and the doctor, but I could tell she felt some discomfort.