I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances

by Sophie Brooks

  The motel wasn’t significantly different from any the previous one, although perhaps it was a bit cleaner. It did have a laundry, however, and she took the chance to wash the little clothing she had before even bothering to go to her room where she found an old television, bed, a round chipboard table with two cheap upholstered chairs and dresser, with a broken leg that had one corner propped up on a brick. The bathroom had a shower stall, toilet and sink. Everything you actually needed and more, and less than what you might want.

  She tossed her backpack on the bed and sat next to it, kicking off her shoes. She pulled off the sweatshirt Dirk had given her and tossed it over the table, discarding it along with any pretense that she was still the neat and orderly woman she’d been. From poor kid to rich wife to something new and undefined, it had been a rocky road. So far this new existence, although strange and uncertain, maybe dangerous, seemed the most promising. For the moment, at least, she had no illusions. Not like she’d had when she’d married Terrance.

  Even then, when she thought back, she knew she’d ignored the warning signs, the twist in her gut that had kept her safe and sane when she’d been on the streets. Her mother had told her it was different, that she would see that her street instincts didn’t suit her new life.

  Quieting her doubts, she’d gone ahead and found her mother had been horribly wrong.

  From the outside, throwing her lot in with a motorcycle club would hardly seem a sane move, but this time, with few options, she’d followed her gut. So far it was working out as well as anything could. She wasn’t free yet, and maybe never would be entirely free, but she was on the move.

  The only thought that made her omniscient gut wince at all was when she tried to imagine what happened after she reached Canada and was on her own again.

  She put that aside. Managing the present was more than enough.

  Not wanting to think anymore, she picked up the remote intending to dull her brain with some inane television before grabbing a shower and some sleep. Before she pressed the button, there was a knock at the door. When she peeked through the spy hole she saw Dirk.

  “What’s happening?” she asked as she opened the door for him. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing at all. I just wanted to check on you… see if you were settled in okay.”

  “I’m great.”

  He held up a bottle of whiskey and grinned. “I wondered if I could buy you a drink.”

  “In that case, come in,” she said, opening the door wider.

  “Are you sure? If you’re tired…”

  “I’m not sleepy yet. Still unwinding from that gorgeous ride. Talking with you sounds better than watching television.”

  He went for the chair, putting the bottle on the table. She shut the door and got the plastic wrapped glasses from the dresser and he poured them each a drink. They toasted each other and she fell under the spell of his gray eyes again. “It was a nice run today, wasn’t it?” he said, dreamy voiced. “I know it was only I-40 through the desert, so there wasn’t much to see, but there’s something magical about an open road when the weather is so perfect. The sensual rumble of the bike over the pavement is fantastic.”

  And with your arms wrapped around a real man it’s incredibly intense.

  The thought came unbidden, making it impossible to deny that she wanted him, that she was hungry for him. She watched him sip his whisky and more than anything, she wanted him to put his glass down and kiss her. He looked at her over the top of his glass for a moment. Their eyes connected, his gaze penetrating into her brain, his mind probing inside her head and reading her thoughts. That fanciful idea seemed incredibly real. He raised his eyebrows and it seemed like…

  He put his glass down and got up from his chair, walking behind her. She forced herself not to look at him, felt his warm breath on her neck, his hands on her shoulders. Then he was leaning over her shoulder, turning her head to face him. The heat of his face burned her cheek and his warm lips pressed against hers and he kissed her. She opened her mouth and his tongue entered her mouth, tasted her, as he turned his head, letting the intensity, the level of passion in his kiss grow. He turned her chair so that she faced him, took her shoulders in his hands. When the kiss finally ended, his tongue sampled her cheek, her ear. “I’m so goddam hungry for you,” he groaned, his voice husky.

  The words sent shock waves through her. The shock came from knowing she wanted him, and at the same time, resisted letting anything happen. She was in limbo and this wasn’t the time for dropping her guard, her defenses. Yet desire resonated through her, melted her, and any thought of stopping him, even slowing him down, evaporated like snow on hot asphalt.

  When she didn’t reply, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her again, this time with his arms around her, pulling her body against his hard torso. When she put her hands around his neck and clasped them together, they melded. Her breasts pressed against his hard, muscular chest and her pelvis rubbed against the bulge of his crotch as their mouths blurred.

  Sex often seems as if two people are doing everything possible to become one, and now they entangled. His hands clutched her ass, lifting her as she hooked her legs around him. He moved toward the bed, lowering her down onto it and lying on her. Tugging at her tee shirt, he pulled it up, licking her breast and gently sucking a pink nipple. Then, as he pulled the shirt over her head, he moved to the other breast. Her nipples grew hard and her breath short with desire. This, Dirk taking her, was what she needed, what she wanted.

  With her topless, he fumbled with her jeans as he kissed and licked her belly. She put her hands on his head, tangled her fingers in his hair. The jeans slid down over her hips and he tugged at her panties, getting them down. Then he was on his knees, pulling the jeans and panties off her legs, leaving her naked.

  His eyes caressed her body as he tossed her pants aside and spread her legs apart. The sudden sensation of his mouth on her bare pussy made her gasp with delight. His tongue ran through the valley between her pussy lips and the gasp became a moan. With his hands on her thighs, spreading her wide for his tongue, he tasted her, teased her, and made her head spin. Then one hand moved up and his fingers speared her wet cunt, sliding deep as his tongue sought out her clitoris. His fingers burned inside her, and she went wild, her body thrashing, writhing under his face, and convulsing around the fingers inside her.

  As she caught her breath, Dirk lifted his face and smiled up at her. Then he stood and slowly undressed. The sight of him naked sent a rush through her, and he moved between her legs, hooking his arms under them and tipping her back. She reached down, snaking her fingers around his glorious hard cock, feeling its heat, his throbbing desire as she guided him into her. His eyes dilated as the head of his prick entered her damp flesh.

  “Yes,” he said, sighing, and then his hips moved forward and she felt his dick enter her, spearing into her tender flesh, and she welcomed the deep penetration by flexing her muscles and caressing his stiff cock, massaging it as Dirk fucked her.

  The words echoed in her head—Dirk was fucking her. She was having hot sex with her biker and it was fantastic.

  They moved together, locked in a passionate embrace, her acutely aware of the rippling of the muscles in his arms and legs as he fucked her, and when she felt his body stiffen, his breath explode in a gasp, she braced herself. The rush of his seed inside her was warm and she took his weight as he melted onto her.

  They lay in the dark with him behind her. His arm encompassed her, and she drifted into a dreamy oblivion. And when she slept, she dreamt of his arms warm and comforting around her.

  * * * *

  She woke in dim light to find Dirk lying beside her, watching her. As she opened her eyes, he touched her, running his hands over her. “You are so sexy,” he hissed. Then he kissed her shoulders, her cheeks, letting her feel his desire. It made her breathless as much as the first time. His beautiful naked body, those glorious rippling muscles and a large, erect cock that curv
ed upward slightly made him look like some mythical hero. When he crawled over her and she felt the heat of his body, she felt deliciously helpless.

  The idea that he intended to fuck her again, the deliberate way he moved between her legs to take possession of her body, made her pulse race. The sound of her blood pumping pounded loudly in her ears as she wrapped her trembling bare thighs around him. His powerful body was hot against her bare skin as he kissed her.

  She had never felt quite so exposed to a man; it excited and terrified her that he was so much in control. He used her own desire like a puppeteer as he leaned forward into her, with his naked body opening her up wide. The brush of his hard cock against her thigh was electric, and it shocked her into action. She ached to have it inside her, and she reached for it.

  Her fingers took it up, encircled it and she felt the throbbing hardness of that otherwise soft flesh, now aroused, wanting to be inside her, right where she wanted it. Her eyes locked into his and she squeezed him. “Fuck me, Dirk.”

  He moved down and she pressed it into her wet pussy, worked it between those lips and into her tender flesh. She could feel her own eyes dilate with the incredible magic of taking his flesh inside her and she released his cock. Resting her hands on those hard shoulders, she tipped her hips upward. Her eyes concentrated on his face, seeing and identifying with his desire. That intensified every nuance, every bit of contact with his flesh.

  He drove that hard shaft into her and she hooked her heels behind his strong, hard legs, pulling her pelvis upward, taking more of this man inside her. “Oh fuck, that is amazing,” she moaned softly, not caring who heard.

  Then he began to move, and those amazing muscles rippled under her fingers as his hips drove his cock into her, penetrating her tight sheath fully with each thrust. Happily, she gave herself to the incredible sensations the moving cock aroused in her, aware they were building, taking her to the point where control vanished.

  Let it happen. Coming again, this time with him inside her, her body impaled with his magnificent prick, was the only goal.

  The pounding of blood in her ears muffled the sounds around them but she heard his grunts of pleasure accompanied by another sound. It took a moment before she realized the sound came from her, that her own involuntary exclamations of pleasure were escaping as her biker lover fucked her tight pussy.

  She tightened the muscles of her cunt, wanting to caress that powerful cock inside her and he responded by driving into her harder and faster. He was close to coming and she focused her attention on that rapid movement inside her until suddenly it stopped. He held her by the ass, their bodies tight together and then he moved out and back again, stopping again. One more powerful thrust and the hot fire of his release burned inside her, moving up. She felt it, pictured it, and then she came too. “My God,” she moaned as her orgasm wracked her body.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next day they left early again, with the bright morning sun shining in their eyes as they headed east toward Flagstaff, winding through mountains and beautiful country.

  Everything looked perfect, but Dirk was uneasy. He had things to work out. Troubling things.

  Roaring down the highway, with Audra clinging to him, was the definition of what he thought he wanted, yet now he felt ensnared by a growing web of thoughts and doubts. That his feelings for her made his head spin things out this way wasn’t good. He had a job to do. He was working and you worked best when you focused on the here and now, when you identified the enemy and put all of your attention on what was happening. Thinking of the past and wondering about the future were distractions.

  The worst distraction was the woman herself. She’d asked if he’d ever killed anyone and he’d dodged the question. Telling her the truth would mark him as an undesirable in her eyes. Lying to her, something he never liked doing to anyone, had become unthinkable.

  She had put her trust in him, paying money for his protection without knowing that he was exactly the kind of man she needed protecting from. He vacillated between thinking that he wanted to see her safely to Canada, away from the clutches of this husband, and just wanting to strip her naked and fuck her.

  Bart’s idea that he could do both seemed increasingly like it wasn’t going to work.

  He didn’t want to care for this girl. He had enough problems of his own—more than enough. And now the biggest one was that he had started liking her and wanted to help her. He wanted to make her safe, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to do that. He sure as hell didn’t think sneaking her across the border was going to do that.

  He should have seen it coming. Once again he’d let himself be blinded by pussy and he just hadn’t considered.

  That was a lie. He had considered it and he’d seduced her anyway. And she’d liked it. She was starting to like him. That was a nonstarter. Why couldn’t she see that he was cursed? Whether she was a nice girl who’d been through shit or a rich bitch, there was no future for her with him. And now he was sure she was nice and that was the worst outcome. He could screw a rich bitch, some weird privileged girl running away from an unhappy marriage, just have a good time fucking her all the way to Canada. He could even convince himself that a girl like that would get off on having a fling with a bad-assed biker, cuckolding her husband with the very guy who was whizzing her out of his reach.

  That’s what he’d intended. That’s how it was supposed to play out. A good time had by all and no regrets.

  But he’d been stupid enough to ask her about her story, to tell him why she was running. And he’d learned she’d had as rough a time as anyone. Being married to a rich guy had turned into hell for her and she had spunk. A nice girl with spunk was even more of a turn on than a willing rich bitch. Even when he knew that she was really nice, he’d pretended she was just hot, just a piece of ass. Now it was biting him because he did have scruples of a sort. Unless it was life or death, Cutter didn’t kick nice people when they were down and he didn’t use the fact that he was helping someone as a lever, especially when they were paying him to do it. That was abusive. He’d abused the situation and he hated himself for letting it happen. That she wanted it didn’t matter.

  Now his desire for her, which was still there and not diminished by what had happened, was mixed with a need to wash away her unhappiness—an urge to protect her. That wasn’t healthy. The two didn’t mesh well. One required caring about her and the other required not giving a shit at all.

  Beyond getting her to Canada he was not the right man to become the solution to her problems. He wasn’t the solution to anyone’s problems. In a club of villains of varying degrees, he was the one who did the dirty work and he’d spent years turning off his feelings. Feelings got in the way of his work, even if sometimes, like now, he wished he understood more about feelings and emotions than he did.

  But he didn’t. Pushing her away was all that made sense. If he kept her at a distance, then he’d be able to think. Then maybe he could even get her safely to Canada. It was damn hard to keep a woman at a distance when you spent the day with her arms around you, her warm and desirable body pressed up against yours. He needed to change things around, redefine the relationship in a way that they both understood. Maybe she could accept just being a nice fuck. That would work. If not, he’d change things.

  After that, when he’d gotten her across the border, she’d be on her own, and vulnerable. He’d be on his own again too, and the thought gave him a horrid, gut-twisting feeling of emptiness. Was that what emotions did to you? He’d have to force himself not to think about what happened after they reached Canada.

  * * * *

  After some time around him, Audra came to the conclusion that Greg was simply a nicer person than Dirk. His sincere smile, and a real warmth, continually surprised her.

  She recognized this partly in contrast. Over breakfast, Dirk had seemed out of sorts and during the day he’d grown distant, speaking to her in monosyllables, making her wonder if she’d done something to piss him off. Som
ething had changed in his attitude toward her since he’d come to her room the night before. What it was, she couldn’t imagine. It had been a beautiful night of lovemaking. And then again in the morning. He’d made her come and she thought she’d pleased him. He’d seemed more than satisfied.

  While it would be unfair to say he had seduced her, he’d certainly been willing to make love to her. He’d liked her well enough for that. Now, whatever it was kept him from carrying on a conversation, or even asking how she was doing. It was a giant step backwards from even the distance he’d put between them when they first met. He had to be having second thoughts about his feelings for her, or perhaps only been pretending to feel anything more than lust.

  No matter what was happening in his head, she was suffering.

  It wasn’t that Dirk acted nasty or rude—just curt. A chill had settled in between them. It hurt more because she had no idea what had upset him and therefore no clue what to do to heal it. With him unwilling to talk to her, she had to accept the possibility that this was permanent. She’d loved their night together. She’d assumed there would be more. Without that hope, when she wrapped her arms around him so they could cover the miles between LA and Buffalo, the contact made her feel incredibly sad and lonely.

  And his change wasn’t something she imagined. The guys had noticed Dirk’s attitude shift. Maybe it was some biker code, where he let them know he wasn’t interested in her any more, but they’d become more attentive, chatting to her when they stopped for gas or at a rest stop, offering to buy her a cool drink, or asking her silly questions. Greg’s change was the most dramatic. When he heard Dirk being short with her at one stop his face clouded over in a disapproving scowl and when they stopped for dinner that evening he apologized for his friend.

  “He’s in a real fucked up space for some reason or another,” Greg said. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but Cutter can be an asshole at times.”