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

by Sophie Brooks

  “Please, Jake. Not like this. It’s too intimate.” It probably didn’t help my case that my nipples were still rock hard and poking up against the slinky fabric of the teddy.

  Looking deep into my eyes, he finally nodded and moved his hand off my stomach. “All right, not like this,” he said. Then he rolled on top of me. “So we’ll do it like this.”

  I shrieked at the sudden feel of his weight on me. Half of me wanted to push him away, the other half wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and guide him into me. But before I could do either, he reached out and opened the drawer on my nightstand. A moment later, his hand emerged clutching my vibrator.

  Shit. I’d forgotten he knew about that.

  He slid back across me and put a finger to my lips when I protested. “This isn’t intimate. This isn’t personal. This is just the change I owe you,” he said, turning it on and running it between my breasts and down to my belly.

  “Wait, Jake—”

  “So where were we?” he asked, speaking over me. “Oh yeah. I’d just pinned you to the pool table, laying the cue across the backs of your thighs, pressing your legs up against your chest, opening you for me. Great visual, by the way,” he said, as he teased the buzzing vibrator past my navel and lower.

  “You’re lying there waiting for my cock. The look on your face gets me even harder. You know how naughty it is to do that right there, in public. You know that at any moment, someone could come in. Maybe a couple of guys might decide they want to play pool. Imagine how it would feel if they saw you like that, your boobs hanging out of your shirt, your body bent in half, your eyes pleading with me to fuck you and fuck you hard. They’d think you were such a horny little slut.”

  As he said that last word, he teased the tip of the vibrator around the edge of my panties and slipped it under the elastic. A moment later, it brushed against my clit, and I let out a soft cry.

  “But no one comes. I hold the pool cue with both hands, pressing your legs back even further, getting you in the perfect position to take my cock. And I line myself up, brushing against your soft lips, even as I lean forward, staring into your eyes. I want to see your face as I fill you. See your face as I make you mine.”

  He moved the vibrator in circles around my clit as I squirmed. I needed him to hold it still, to press it harder against me. And I needed him to keep saying such hot things to me.

  “And then … I push my rock-hard cock all the way into you, balls deep, filling you completely.” As he said this, he zeroed the vibrator in on my clit and kicked it up a notch. His free hand was back at my nipples, squeezing, pinching.

  “I hold myself all the way inside you, my body pinning you down, and you are mine, and you beg me, plead with me to pound into you. And I do, drawing almost all the way out and slamming into you.”

  I was writhing against his body now, so close to coming, the vibrations so intense on my clit and his hot, hot words in my ear. I squirmed around so much that he used his free hand to grab a handful of my hair, pinning me to the bed, making me think of the way he was pinning me to the pool table in the fantasy. I was so close.

  “And I thrust in and out, making your boobs shake, making you pant, making you moan, making your head thrash from side to side. You plead ‘harder, harder, take me harder.’ You don’t care if anyone hears. You don’t care if anyone comes in. You just want my cock. You want me. You want me deep inside of you.”

  Oh god, I was going to come. I could feel it. My legs were shaking, and every muscle in my body was clenched. Just a few more seconds …

  “I go harder and faster, pounding into you, absolutely pounding the shit out of you, and still, you beg me for more, beg me to fuck you harder, beg me to come inside you. I let go of the pool cue and grab you by the hips, yanking you all the way onto me, holding you tight as I come inside of you. And I look into your eyes, and I tell you to come … right … now!” He smashed the vibrator almost painfully against my clit and lowered his head, finding my nipple and biting it.

  I exploded, my hips bucking off the bed, my upper body flailing about, so much so that he immediately let my nipple slide out from between his teeth. “That’s right, Fiona. Come for me. Come hard.”

  Shocks radiated through my whole body and suddenly the vibrator was too much. “Please,” I panted, and Jake understood and eased it away from me.

  “Mmm,” I moaned, trying to get my breathing under control. But aftershocks kept hitting me, making my body writhe next to his.

  Jake tossed the vibrator on the bed beside me and rested his hand under my breasts, feeling my chest rise and fall. Eventually, I calmed down enough to form coherent sentences again—possibly. But now I wasn’t sure what to say. So, I allowed myself to be still for a few minutes, enjoying the heat from his body next to mine, enjoying the feeling of his hand resting possessively on my stomach.

  Unlike me, Jake was never at a loss for words for very long. “So,” he said when I’d stilled. “My turn again?”

  I laughed, grateful that he’d made a joke. That made it a little less awkward. And a little easier.

  Chapter Five

  THROUGHOUT FRIDAY AND the weekend, Jake and I exchanged texts. He started it, sending me a message Friday evening saying that he hoped I was enjoying the hot water. Then he got a whole lot more explicit about how exactly he was imagining me enjoying a hot bath.

  On Sunday afternoon, his latest text was less explicit but certainly very straightforward: Anything broken at your place yet, Red? Because I think you know what comes after a hand job.

  Yes, I certainly did know what came after that. I’d been thinking about it a lot. And part of me wanted it. Wanted him. Missed him. I’d been so furious after he moved out. I still couldn’t believe he’d given up on us so quickly. But I missed him. I’d missed him every single day since then.

  And now I could be with him again. I could be in his arms, tonight, if I wanted to. All I had to do was wait for something to go wrong around the house. Knowing my house, it wouldn’t be a long wait. Or I could just make something go wrong. Same difference, really. It was going to happen sooner or later. And then he’d be here.

  Maybe it was better this way. The last few times I’d seen him, we’d joked. We’d flirted. We’d bickered but in a teasing kind of way. But we hadn’t fought. No angry words, neither of us ending up frustrated. So, in a way, this was perfect. Maybe it was better than living together.

  I wandered around the house, taking stock. Everything looked okay in the kitchen. The pilot light in the stove was on. The refrigerator wasn’t making any weird noises. The garbage disposal was still working. He’d done a good job on that. I ran my fingers along the counter top, remembering the times Jake had lifted me up by my waist, set me on the counter, and kissed me.

  It seemed like half the times we’d tried to cook dinner together had ended with burnt food and us mostly naked, panting on the floor. But there’d also been fights in this room. Over money. Over groceries. Over who cooked. Over whether we should be eating that much takeout. Jake liked it because it was quick, there was no cleanup, and that left more time for naughtiness. But I worried about it being both expensive and unhealthy. Though I had to admit that on nights we hadn’t cooked, Jake had still found all sorts of wickedly inventive ways for us to burn calories.

  I moved into the living room. The windows all opened, though some only stayed open with the pieces of wood Jake had cut to size. The deadbolt and chain on the front door looked strong. I sat on the sofa, and again, both good and bad memories returned. Good memories—great memories—of Jake lying on top of me, stroking my hair, looking into my eyes as he told me he loved me. And then ugly memories of us fighting over weekend chores, who did more around the house, what each of us should be doing. I glanced at the TV and remembered when he’d ordered a satellite dish and a very expensive package of television stations I’d never even heard of without consulting me. That’d led to a huge fight.

  I still didn’t get why it had been so har
d. We’d loved each other. Truly loved each other. Shouldn’t that have been enough? It clearly wasn’t, but I still didn’t quite get why. Wasn’t love supposed to conquer all?

  I walked into the bedroom. We’d been so happy when we got that queen-sized bed. Then, of course, we’d bought nice sheets, new pillows, a gorgeous blue comforter. We’d gotten matching nightstands. Jake had hung shelves on the wall, and we’d decorated. It’d been fun. But now it seemed to me that it had been like playing house. Spending money we shouldn’t have to make it look nice. Well, it did look nice, but I was alone in it.

  But I didn’t have to be alone tonight. I came to a halt in front of the closet door. It slid open, or it was supposed to. Half the time, the top of the door lurched right off the tracks. Usually, I could get it back on, but sometimes I’d needed Jake’s help. I had a funny feeling that was going to the be case this time. I reached up and gave the edge of the door a mighty tug.

  * * *

  It took Jake all of about seventeen seconds to fit the door back on the track, and then we were all over each other. He pushed me up against the wall, shoving my hands above my head as his lips met mine.

  He kept my wrists pinned above me with one hand and tore open my shirt with the other. I admitted to myself that I’d worn a button-down shirt for just that purpose. I wrapped one leg around his waist, and he immediately put his hands under my ass and lifted me up. I held onto him like I wasn’t ever going to let him go.

  As he walked me over to the bed, he stroked my hair and kissed my neck. He spoke gruffly, his breath hitting my ear. “You aren’t going to argue about me making you come tonight, are you Red?”

  I clung to him tighter. “Who’s arguing?” I breathed against his neck. And it was true. We didn’t argue anymore. We just enjoyed each others’ bodies, and it was really fun. That should be enough, right?

  He threw me on the bed and climbed on top of me. All concerns flew out of my mind as we touched, kissed, stroked, and teased each other. When I got his pants down to his knees, I pounced on his cock like I hadn’t eaten for days. It’d been such a long time since I’d felt his hot length inside my mouth, since I’d heard him groan with pleasure as I drove him closer and closer to the edge.

  I loved that I knew exactly what to do with my fingers, my lips, and my tongue to make him thrash around on the bed when he came. As I listened to his heavy breathing slowly return to normal, I rested my head on his thigh, feeling his hand stroke my hair. It was easy to believe that he’d never left, that I hadn’t spent three months in this bed—which used to be our bed— alone.

  But when it was time for him to return the favor, I wouldn’t let him go down on me. I couldn’t even say why exactly. I just knew that there were only two ways I could allow myself to be with Jake. One was if we were together, as a couple. And the other was this weird home repair barter system we had going on. He fixed something, and I ‘paid’ him for it. As long as it was just a business transaction, I was in no danger of losing my heart all over again. Right? I tried to explain this to Jake.

  “Red, c’mon. That doesn’t make any sense. We both know that the closet door wasn’t really broken.”

  “So?” He was right, it didn’t make any sense, but it was the only way I could handle this right now.

  “Let’s just do what we want. And I want to taste you. It’s been so long.” He sat up and lifted me by the shoulders, pulling my head onto the pillow. He leaned over my side, wrapping his foot around my leg, spreading it away from the other one. His hand tugged at first one nipple and then the other as he kissed me.

  “That felt so good,” he whispered after nibbling at my bottom lip and letting go. “Let me make you feel that good.” His hand skated down my stomach, light enough to tickle. But once it reached my mound, his touch was firm. Purposeful. He rubbed one and then two fingers up and down my slit. It felt so good. My back arched, and I found his lips again.

  He brushed past my clit, and I could feel his mouth turn into a grin when I jumped in reaction. But when he tore his lips from mine and started kissing down my neck, over my breasts, I protested.

  “Please kiss me again, Jake.”

  “I am kissing you,” he said, his lips caressing the skin above my breasts. “And I plan to keep kissing you—every part of you.”

  He pushed a finger into me, and I let out a breathy, shuddering moan.

  Jake looked up from his position at my chest. “That sound you just made? It used to be my life’s mission to make you make that sound.”

  I smiled and started to respond, but then he pushed another finger into me, and I made the same sound again.

  “Mmm,” Jake said, and he swirled his tongue around my nipple. “I wish I could use it as my ring tone.”

  It felt so good with his fingers inside me and his mouth on my breast. Then his thumb moved up to my clit and I moaned again. Jake tried to move his mouth lower, but I wrapped my arm around the back of his neck, keeping him there. “C’mon, Red,” he complained. “Forget about the repairs and this weird, but sexy payment plan we’ve got going on. Let me make you feel good.”

  “You are making me feel good,” I said, and it was very, very true. His fingers inside of me were driving me wild, not to mention his thumb on my clit. He’d always known how to handle my body, and the time we’d lived together had only made him better.

  “This makes no sense,” he grumbled again, but he didn’t move any lower, instead dividing his time between my nipples, his fingers working their magic down below.

  When I came, I stiffened, trapping his fingers inside me, almost bucking him off me as half my body rose off the bed.

  After that, I lay in his arms for a long time, kissing him, being kissed. It felt so right. It almost felt real. I wished it was real. But it wasn’t, so I gently turned down his request for round two.

  And I didn’t let him stay the night.

  Chapter Six

  “HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, BREE.” I called her as soon as I got home from work on Monday.

  “Thanks, but it was yesterday. At least you never forget my birthday.”

  “Good one,” I said. Sometimes twin humor could be a little weird. “I knew it was yesterday, but I figured you and that handsome man of yours might’ve had something better to do last night than talk to me.”

  “You were right,” Bree said, and I could practically hear her satisfied grin through the phone line.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Even better,” she said. “But I’ll spare you the details because I know you’re going through a dry spell.”

  “Yeah. Umm. A dry spell.”

  “Oh, crap. What happened, Fee?”

  I didn’t say anything, so she continued. “You slept with Jake, didn’t you?”

  “No! There was no sleeping. And we didn’t—I mean, okay, we did some stuff, but not everything.”

  “It doesn’t matter how much you did or didn’t do. What matters is you did something. And I bet you’re spending all your time thinking about him. And wondering if there will be a next time. You’re never going to get over him this way. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know.”

  “Then why do this? You guys have broken up. It should be over, but you’re still pulling the breakup bandage off a millimeter at a time, making it hurt even more. Why do that to yourself?”

  It was easy for Bree to say that. She had a perfect marriage. She and Alex were a team. When his company closed, they’d worked together and found jobs in a new city. They’d moved to Florida together and made a good life for themselves. And now they were discussing having children.

  In short, they had an adult relationship. Jake and I … what did we have? Love? Definitely love. But also a whole lot of lust and a mutual appreciation for having naughty fun. But it was not a partnership. Not an adult relationship. Bree and I were the same age, obviously. Why did she and Alex work so well together while Jake and I’d fought about the same things over and over, never moving forward?
/>   “Earth to Fiona.”

  “Sorry. My mind wandered off.”

  “In a Jakeward direction, no doubt.”

  I rolled my eyes, then jumped as thunder sounded in the distance. I walked to the window and looked out at the darkening sky. “I’d better let you go. Looks like we’re getting a storm here. Tell Alex happy anniversary from me, too.”

  “Will do. Take care.”

  * * *

  The next few days, the weather matched my mood. The sun made only rare appearances. I didn’t venture outside without an umbrella close at hand. And when I thought of Jake, my thoughts were gloomy and dim like the sky.

  Even if Stacie was out of the picture, and she certainly seemed to be, I still didn’t see how things could ever work out between us. I just couldn’t see things changing with Jake. Sometimes I thought of him like a big kid. Yeah, he was a sexy, hot man, but when it came to relationships, sometimes he acted like a kid. He wanted the good times. The fun parts. He didn’t want to put any work into getting through the bad times.

  And was I much better? Lots of times when we should have talked things out, I’d let him distract me, usually with mind-blowingly good sex. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve made him sit down and have a real, grown-up discussion. And I should never have told him to leave. I wished more than anything I could take that back. But part of me still couldn’t believe he’d done it.

  Why had he listened to me then of all times? If I told him to take out the garbage, nada. If I told him not to spend a week’s salary on a fancy dinner at a restaurant we couldn’t afford, nothing. If I told him we needed to talk, zilch. But I told him once that he should leave, and he did. I didn’t think I could ever forgive myself for saying that—or him for doing it.

  On Saturday, I tried to pull myself out of my foul mood and get my act together. I would have to talk to Jake at some point. We’d had so much fun last time. He was probably wondering when something else around here was going to ‘accidentally’ break, and I’d be giving him a call. His texts were mostly along the lines of: Can’t wait until next time—and I think you can’t either. He was clearly expecting us to sleep together soon, and why wouldn’t he? We’d parted on good terms. Last time had been fun. Very fun.