Dangerous: Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)

by Nora Ash

  “Whatever you say, love.”

  The bed creaked, and for a moment I thought he was actually getting out. My rush of victory proved short-lived. Before I could blink, Blaine rolled over on top of me, only barely keeping off of me by resting on one arm a mere inch above the duvet. The other arm he extended out so he could turn off the lights.

  I got a full view of his strong body as he hovered over me before the lights went out—just long enough for the more carnal parts of my brain to awaken.

  Heat spread from low in my abdomen, racing all the way up through my body and down my thighs until I could feel my pulse throb everywhere he would touch if he lowered himself that small inch to press down on top of me.

  Looking back, my body’s mutinous reaction wasn’t all too surprising. As much as I hated him for who he was, Blaine was so perfectly male and ruthlessly handsome most women would find it hard to breathe with him up close and personal like this—especially when he didn’t have a shred of clothing on. The fact that he was as dangerous as they come seemed to have been erased by my drunken state, and the result was perfectly predictable.

  Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t at all prepared when my abdomen seemed to melt, the liquid proof moistening my panties in a warm rush.

  My first instinct was shocked humiliation that a man I hated could make me soak my panties just by being on top of me. Then, thankfully, came the fury.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I slapped my hands up, both palms connecting with his pecs with a satisfying smack. “Get off me!”

  Above me in the darkness, Blaine hissed at the impact. “Don’t ever hit me again.” It was a warning.

  Perhaps if I’d been sober, I would have taken his threat to heart, even through my own fury. Too bad I was anything but.

  “Or what, you’ll beat me bloody? Slit my throat? Exactly how much violence do you need to inflict to feel like a tough guy?” I shoved his shoulders in an attempt to get him off me, but all that accomplished was to make him lose his balance so he fell down on top of the duvet, pinning my body to the mattress with his.

  “I’d never harm a woman—even if she is the most obnoxious little bitch I’ve ever met.” Blaine raised up on both arms this time, and I could sense him hovering above me as close as before. “But if you push me again, you’re going to be sorry.”

  I pushed him. Hard. Because fuck him—and the horse he rode in on. “I’m not afraid of you!”

  He moved above me, quick as a snake, and I scrambled to get out from underneath him. Sadly for me, he was much faster—and stronger—and before I’d gotten more than a leg out from underneath the duvet, he’d pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. The other he pressed firmly against my chest, just below my throat. Not hard enough to make me struggle to breathe, but certainly so firmly I couldn’t move my upper body.

  “You should be.” His voice was rough, and to my great annoyance, something in its pitch spoke to my core—the part of me that was whispering excitedly about being pinned underneath him. It only angered me all the more.

  I kicked out with my free leg and got it hooked around the back of his hamstrings, digging my heel into the back of his knee as hard as I could muster. “Get off!”

  “Ow!” Blaine flinched and pulled back, which gave me enough momentum to rip my wrists out of his hands and twist around to my stomach in an attempt at getting out from underneath him.

  “You little tramp!” Just as I clawed my way halfway to the other side of the wide bed, large hands grabbed my shoulders, and Blaine clamped his knees around my thighs tight, stopping me mid-flight. I kicked out again and caught something solid with the flat of my foot.

  Blaine grunted, undoubtedly from pain. “Fine, if you want it like that...” He slid his hands down my sides along my nightie from my shoulders to my hips, pausing only for a second before he grabbed my hips and pulled me up on my knees so my arse was in the air, my face still pressed against the mattress.

  He wouldn’t…! I gasped in scandalized protest as a sense of foreboding set in, but it was too late.

  Blaine let go of my hip with one hand, and in the next moment, he brought his palm down against my upturned backside. But when it connected with my panty-clad flesh, it wasn’t pain that made me gasp out. The light must have made him misjudge his target, and when he spanked me, his hand slapped fully against the puffy lips of my sex rather than my arse.

  He had obviously planned on proving who was boss rather than cause me any pain when he swung, because if it had landed on my fleshy backside, it wouldn’t even have really stung. But, as I realized while I lay there in shocked silence, there’s quite a bit of a difference between your arse and your private parts, and the feel of his hand still seemed to vibrate through my now molten flesh. Every inch of my skin down there was alive with sensation, and I could feel my clit throbbing hard between my lower lips.

  I’d never been so turned on in my entire life.

  “You’re dripping wet.” The hoarse note was back in his voice, even more pronounced now.

  Oh fuck. Of course he would have noticed that.

  Only my still-present anger kept complete mortification at bay.

  Angrily, I pulled free from his grasp and turned around so I could glare in his direction.

  “I am not! I swear to God, don’t even think about touching me again!”

  “Or what? You’ll beg me to fuck you?” Whatever anger had been in Blaine’s voice before, it was gone now—overtaken by that smug self-assuredness I’d come to loathe already, along with something else. Something quite a bit more appealing, if my ovaries were to be believed. It made the heat from my sex spread up through my stomach and underneath my skin.

  “You’re such a prick!” I hissed, but even to my own ears, I sounded more breathy than I did angry. Which was bullshit—I was angry! Blaine shifted on the bed and I kicked out, hitting him square in the stomach. But before I could retract my foot, Blaine grabbed me by the ankle and pulled, sending me flat on my back with an undignified huff.

  “Let go you arsehole!”

  “Seems like you’re the one who can’t stop touching me.” He pulled on my ankle again, making me slide further down toward him, and then he put his other hand on my free leg, effectively keeping me from kicking out again.

  “I’m not touching you, you goon,” I growled. “I’m trying to get away from you.”

  “Sure you are, love.” He shifted again, letting his hands slide along my legs to keep me in place as he moved up my body. There was no duvet between us this time, and I felt his warm skin against mine like a touch of maddening fire as his hands made their way to my hips. “I’m sure you’ll be dry as a desert if I slip my fingers into your knickers as well, hmm?”

  His cockiness was so goddamn infuriating! I kicked out again, but this time he was prepared. I didn’t so much as graze him, and before I could roll away, he grabbed ahold of my hips and tugged hard—and then proceeded to push his hard body down on top of mine.

  I froze at the press of his muscular frame. From the feel of his heavy mass pinning me to the warmth of his skin and the smell of whiskey on his breath, his closeness enveloped me—and whatever damned hormones had control over my body went wild. My nipples tightened until they ached, and a veritable flood of liquid made my already soaking panties even wetter.

  “Let’s test, shall we?” He murmured into my ear. His hot breath tickled my skin and made me break out into goosebumps. “If you’re dry, I’ll go sleep on the couch. If you’re wet… we fuck.”

  * * * *

  Chapter 6

  Mira

  “I don’t want to sleep with you.” I was pretty proud of the sneer in my voice, despite how the word “fuck” whispered into my ear in his molten voice nearly made my ovaries explode. “Keep your hands to yourself!”

  “No dice.” Blaine shifted his hold on me so he could keep both my wrists in one hand, spread my legs with his knees—and then proceeded to reach down, his fingertips graz
ing against the front of my panties.

  The thin fabric clung to my skin from the wetness, and when he trailed his fingers further down, I knew he could feel the outline of my lips without any problems.

  I shuddered at the trickle of desire that followed, but bit back a wanton moan out of spite. I’d be damned if I’d give him the satisfaction of knowing how strongly I reacted to him—even if it was impossible to hide the ruined state of my panties.

  Then he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric and brushed up and down my slit a few times before caressing my taut clit.

  I couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp as a burst of pleasure rocked through me, nor could I stop my legs from widening further, pushing my pelvis up in an involuntary invitation.

  “Soaked.” Blaine removed his hand from my panties and held it up between us. I couldn’t see much, but the scent of my arousal was heavy in the air between us. He breathed in deeply and then sucked on his fingers with a lewd pop. “And fucking delicious.”

  “You’re an evil prick.” Despite the harsh words, my voice lacked any sort of conviction. The fog of lust made it impossible to remember why I hated him so much.

  “You’re an obnoxious prude.” Blaine’s snarl had all the richness of a prowling tiger. He tugged on my panties again, once to test and then once more, hard, snapping the waistband with ease. “And you’re gonna get fucked.”

  I gasped when he touched my pussy again, fully this time. He rubbed along my puffy lips, coating his thumb before he pressed in hard against my clit.

  “Blaine!” I was only half aware that I’d cried out his name when he began circling the little nub, too overcome with the sharp sensations of pure bliss that rocked through my nerves for every round of his thumb.

  It felt like nothing had before. Maybe it was the week’s worth of tension finally finding a way to be released, or perhaps it was just the sheer animal attraction I’d had for him ever since he walked into my office. Whatever it was, it left me blind-sided, panting and whimpering for his touch like a cat in heat.

  “Inside! I need you inside!” I arched my back up, desperate to feel what my body craved with every pulse of blood through my veins. It didn’t matter that he was a cocky bastard, nor that I was faintly aware that I was meant to be scared of him. All that mattered was his hard body and the thickness I’d glimpsed between his legs earlier. He had what I needed, and I needed it now. I dug my nails into his chest to make sure he understood my urgency.

  Blaine grunted as my nails penetrated his skin, but it worked as intended. He shifted above me, and suddenly his fingers were replaced by something warm, hard, and thick.

  “Fuck!” His hissed outburst drowned out the hitch in my breath when he pressed in, seating the head of his fat cock with one push. “Damn, you’re tight.”

  I whimpered in response. It had been so long since I’d been with a man, and Blaine wasn’t just equipped for show. My channel trembled around him, fighting to accommodate his girth, but all I felt was pure, unadulterated desire. I needed him deep, and I needed him now.

  “More! Give me more!”

  “And so goddamn demanding,” he added, but he obeyed nevertheless. A flex of his hips and his thick cock drove home, all the way to my very core.

  “Oh!” I dug my nails into him again, too overcome with the sensation of being filled to the brim to care if I drew blood. This was exactly what I needed—to be taken, to fuck—to lose my mind to the sweet rush of endorphins. “God, yes!”

  Blaine didn’t give me much of a chance to get used to the feel of being penetrated so deeply. With a grunt he pulled his hips back, only to slam them against mine again the next second. I cried out as wild pleasure ripped through my pelvis and wrapped my legs around his hamstrings, mindlessly clutching on to the source of the ecstasy.

  Again he moved, and I moved with him, rolling my hips up to meet his blows, even as the power of them made a dull ache mix with the pleasure. It didn’t matter—I wanted it hard, and I needed it rough. I bit his shoulder and scratched his back to make him give me everything he had.

  An animalistic snarl ripped from Blaine’s throat, and the next second, I learned exactly what it meant to be truly and thoroughly fucked.

  He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. And then he unleashed every ounce of that barely-contained fury I’d seen in his eyes all day.

  Blaine’s thick cock pounded into me, forcing my pussy wide all the way to the depths of my being. The thick rim of his head rubbed the full length of my tight sheath, pummeling my G-spot over and over and over. His hips slapped against my arse, beating the brutal rhythm into my flesh as well as my pussy. He moved like a demon possessed, forcing me to take every inch with no mercy and no respite.

  It was exactly what I needed.

  The dull ache in me turned to pain at his roughness, but I relished it all the more. And underneath him, I finally let go.

  I screamed until my throat was sore, I thrashed and bucked and cried. All the fear, all the anger and despair—I released it all while the man who was now my husband despite both our wishes fucked me like I’d never even imagined possible.

  When I finally crested, he came with me.

  Pleasure so strong it felt like it would splinter my pelvis ripped through my abdomen from my pussy and spread into every cell of my body, leaving me numb and completely unable to move. I was faintly aware of Blaine’s gasp of pleasure and the warm rush of his semen deep inside, but not even when he kissed my jawline a few times before brushing his mouth against mine did I manage to wrestle my mind free of its endorphin high. Everything was calmness and bliss, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was truly at peace.

  * * * *

  Chapter 7

  Blaine

  Ow. Fucking hell, ow!

  I groaned in protest of the sharp pain piercing my skull from the inside the moment I cracked open my eyes.

  Even the faint light that filtered in through the curtains was too bright, and I quickly shut them again. Judging by the taste in my mouth, I’d overdone it on the whiskey. By a lot.

  A jumbled mess of images stumbled through my brain, as if to helpfully remind me of every single glass I’d downed. I frowned when a fuzzy memory of Liam attempting to stop me from ordering another glass at the bar surfaced. How very uncharacteristic.

  He’d said something about… my wife needing me.

  The shock of realization when the rest of yesterday’s horrors came crashing back to my recollection made me open my eyes wide—a move I instantly regretted.

  “Fuck.” I hurriedly squeezed them shut once more, but only after the light of day had penetrated into what felt like the stem of my suffering brain.

  I had a wife.

  Slowly, I became aware of the heavy press of a warm body against mine.

  Oh. Right. We fucked, didn’t we?

  Despite my pain, I couldn’t hold back a lazy smile over that particular part of last night’s events. Turned out the little prude was quite the wildcat after all. If memory served, I was pretty sure I’d be sporting some scratches today.

  Carefully I cracked my eyelids again, bracing for the pain this time. It took a while, but once my eyes had adjusted, I could see without wanting to dig out my own brain with a spoon.

  She was laying halfway on my shoulder, with one leg and an arm thrown across my body and her chestnut hair spread around her head like a sheet of darkened blood. She was also drooling.

  Mira. Or Aignéis, or whatever the fuck she was called.

  I hadn’t noticed an Irish accent on her when I’d seen her the first time, nor last night, even though it was thick in both her father and two brothers. I hadn’t heard her mother speak, but assumed it was the same. The Clerys were Irish through and through—yet apart from the pale skin and auburn hair, my new wife showed no sign of her heritage.

  Wife. Fuck.

  I’d planned to pretty much ignore the girl unlucky enough to be chosen for my bride, but seeing her standing th
ere in that damned church floored me.

  If I’d known there was even the smallest chance I’d ever run into her again, I would never in a million years have gone to a psychologist—no matter how desperate I was. And I’d been pretty fucking desperate.

  I sighed, making Mira’s long hair move and tickle against my arm on the blow out. If anyone ever knew I’d been so weak I’d sought out help from a bloody shrink, I was done for. There was no room for weakness in this world, nor anyone who couldn’t cope with the dark parts of the job. And yet I’d cracked. I’d given in to the demons in my head and showed my soft underbelly—showed it to her.

  Which made her more dangerous than any of my family’s multitude of enemies.

  I stared down at her face. She looked innocent in her sleep. Vulnerable, even. Completely at odds with the copious amounts of attitude I’d seen from her so far.

  She hated me, probably even more so than I hated her part in this arrangement, but as she lay by my side, it was hard to remember that she was a threat.

  I probably shouldn’t have shagged her, but I’d wanted to from the first time I laid eyes on her round arse when I first walked into her office. Still did, if my stiff cock was to be believed. Which it was.

  I reached over and let my hand slide down her shoulder to her soft chemise. It was a flattering violet color, but I was more interested in the way it hugged her ample cleavage when she lay on her side. I traced a thumb across one breast and smirked when her nipple perked under my caress. Seemed her body was as fond of me as mine was of her.

  She didn’t look like the usual type of girl I fucked. I tended to gravitate toward tall, slender model types, mainly because they were the ones who hung around the clubs I went to.

  Mira was short and deliciously full-figured, and my cock had ached to be buried between her generous thighs from first sight. All the sex I’d had before seemed so plain and dull in comparison, like rice crackers next to a feast of abundance. And once I was finally inside of her…