Cherry Bomb: Forbidden Bad Boys

by Clara Leigh

  “Her mother is Emilia Grace.” I don’t know how I know it, but with sudden certainty, I do. Emilia Grace disappeared from the world stage right after Sunsetters until she made the news again eleven months later when she took a dive off a penthouse suite balcony.

  Dare nods.

  “She handed me our daughter, told me how exactly how big a mistake I’d been and how badly I’d screwed everything up for her. Two hours later she was dead.”

  The events are in the past, but the horror of them is right there in his face. A tick fires in his jaw and the skin between his brows is tightly creased. “I was barely more than a kid myself. Younger than you are now. It wasn’t the easiest thing to handle. I chose to throw myself into the Hollywood lifestyle. I don’t know if that was the best decision. I don’t know that it’s what I’d do now, but the situation is what it is, and I hope you see now why I couldn’t last night. Too many parallels. Too many things that could go wrong.”

  “It was stupid of me to suggest doing anything without a condom. I was just really horny.”

  He nods. “Amongst other things.”

  I bite my tongue. There’s no point in quibbling over it. It didn’t happen between us, and right now I’m not sure if it’s going to. I don’t know what he means to achieve by telling me this secret. What’s more, I’m not sure I have the whole story yet. “But how is it nobody knows?”

  “My parents,” he says, as if that ought to be obvious. “Between them and my agent they managed everything.”

  “Lorne knows?” I know I’m frowning, but I still can’t wrap my mind around this. I came in here to have sex with him, and he’s dropped a grenade in my lap.

  “Lorne knows everything.”

  Maybe I ought to head back into the living room and ask him to explain it to me. Dare’s version is too disjointed. “Where is she? Your daughter, I mean.”

  “She’s my sister,” he says, yet again causing my eyes to cross. “Arrietty. The Borrower. My parents told the world she was theirs.”

  Finally, something makes sense. That’s why he ran off so fast when he thought she was injured. It’s why he talks to Lorne about her so much and how she somehow gets mentioned in conversations she doesn’t really need to be included in. “They borrowed her from you.”

  “It sounds really bad, doesn’t it?”

  I half nod, half shake my head. I’m still wrapping my thoughts around this one. It’s going to take a little while to process.

  Meanwhile, Dare wraps himself in a towel. “You haven’t run away screaming,” he observes.

  I shake my head again. I’m still processing this. “Is she cute?”

  “Adorably vile and missing her front teeth.”

  “Does she know? What does she call you?”

  “Dare mostly, the same as everyone else and it’s complicated.”

  I take that to mean no one has spelled it out for her, but it’s just about possible she realises he isn’t her older brother.

  “Why tell me now?”

  “Can I put some clothes on?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for permission, but heads out of the bathroom into his bedroom, and starts pulling on various items. I stop him as he’s stepping into his trousers by pressing my hand to his bent back.

  “Why now?”

  He straightens and faces me, temporarily ignoring his fly. “I think you ought to know the person you want to sleep with, especially considering how high the stakes are, what with Chinchilla being so determined to own your arse. Heads will roll if we become public knowledge. All sorts of dirty'll get printed.”

  There’s an unspoken acknowledgment between us that after my performance last night: it’s really a matter of when, not if. I ought never to have gone near his club. But I did, so we’re going to have to roll with it.

  “My phone’s been beeping all morning. I don’t want to look at it.”

  “Then don’t until you want to.”

  “And in the mean time?”

  He shrugs. We’re both far too cagey around one another. That’s not how I want it to be, but I’m still not one hundred per cent sure how I feel about him being a father. I can’t figure out if it matters or not. It’s not like his baby’s mama is still around. And shit, that sounds callous of me, but it does cut down the list of issues that might arise. I can’t be jealous of someone who no longer exists. It remains to be seen how I feel about sharing his affections with a kid or being flung into a semi-responsible role. I’m getting ahead of myself, but if we’re going to be serious, then there’s the possibility of me becoming her step-mum to take on board.

  “You’ve gone very quiet.”

  “It’s a lot to process.”

  “You mean I’ve killed your appetite for me. It ruins something, doesn’t it, knowing I’ve fathered a child?”

  I shake my head. “It’s a surprise is all.”

  “Hm.”

  I’m not sure he believes me.

  “So, are still interested in stripping me naked and playing dirty, or would you like to make a tactical withdrawal?”

  I flip him off. “There’s no need to be a prick. If you spring this stuff, you have to accept there’ll be a reaction.”

  “I am a prick, Flicka. Haven’t you worked that out? I screw around. I handed over my kid to my parents to take care of, and I’m currently lighting fireworks underneath your career.”

  Oh no, he doesn’t get to claim complete responsibility. “Maybe you’re holding the match, but I put the fireworks there.” He concedes with a nod as his lips slowly turn upwards. Then he makes a motion as if he’s striking a match and holds it out to me.

  I have two choices: I can blow it out or I can allow it to kindle and burn along the fuse. The first option will result in stasis; we’ll carry on and pretend there’s never been anything between us. While the second option is going to result in a gigantic boom!

  I opt for the explosion. Deep down it’s what we both know I want, and somehow being around him gives me the strength to pursue it.

  I can’t help it, my gaze slides back down to the level of his loins. His fly is still undone, and he hasn’t put on any underwear.

  Oh man, I’m in so much trouble! The mid-morning sun is streaming through the window. There are no shadows to hide in. I can’t attribute my actions to anything other than myself, not that I was ever the one claiming it was the drink talking. Do I want what he seems to be finally offering? Dammit—of course I do.

  “If we do this, you won’t change your mind again halfway through, will you?”

  I touch the skin of his abs with my fingertips and then my palm. Slowly I slip both hands beneath the fabric of his jeans, slide them around towards the back and squeeze his arse.

  “As long as I’m in charge of safety precautions.”

  I chuckle and nod in agreement. Guilty as charged, I definitely stuffed up bigtime on that score last night. “Time to consider cutting my nails.”

  “Oh, I dunno.” Dare pulls his hand back through the still wet strands of his hair. “Lorne puts them on with his mouth. Maybe you could have him teach you.”

  I think my chin just hit my knees. “Lorne does what?” I swear today is one long revelation. “Does he put them on himself that way or…?”

  My question hangs in the air. Dare’s eyebrows are raised, but I don’t want to speculate on the alternate practice methods for Lorne’s party piece. Until now, I’ve totally had him plugged as a ladies man, but what if that’s not true? What if I’ve been missing something obvious like his blinding loyalty to Dare being down to more than ages old friendship?

  “You talk too much.” Dare bludgeons the idea of he and Lorne being romantically involved right out of my brain by trapping me in his embrace. When his scent washes over me, and I feel the heat of him burning through my clothing, it’s impossible to dwell on the possibility that he’s attracted to someone else. What exists between us is real.

  “Would you rather I didn’t ask questions?”

  “I’d rather you us
ed your lips for this instead.”

  This being the melding of my mouth with his, tasting him, teasing him with the tip of my tongue, and being tantalized in return.

  When Dare kisses me in this way, I can’t get enough. It’s as if a switch gets flipped. All the fever, all the urgency and need I experienced last night comes back tenfold.

  The two men are friends, nothing more. I’m simply seeking reasons not to believe this is as special as the fire in my core and the rapid thump of my pulse tell me it is. Accepting reality means accepting that things around me are going to detonate, but I don’t pull away or hesitate, not for a second.

  Dare swings me up off the floor and into his arms. I straddle his waist and hook my hands around his neck. He breathes sweet and sticky promises into my mouth, while I claw at his clothing, eager to remove the garment he’s only recently put on.

  “Pace yourself, Vixen.” He lowers me onto the bed, where he secures my wrists over my head with one of his big palms. The other hand he uses to divest himself of his jeans.

  They stay tangled around his calves, but it’s of no consequence, all that matters is the kiss of our flesh as our naked bodies meet.

  I wriggle, restless and impatient for things to happen. I want him immediately with no warm up and without any distractions, like those I know he’s capable of creating with his fingers and his tongue.

  “You’re not going to be happy until I’ve given you everything.”

  “You’ve made me wait a dozen times over already.” At least that’s how it seems. In reality, I know our intimacy doesn’t extend to nearly so many encounters. “Will you do it, Dare? Will you get inside me?”

  “If you give me room to manoeuvre, maybe.”

  It’s hard to let go. To give him that space. I watch him roll on the condom in fascination, and I can’t keep my gaze off him as he stretches over me and lines his cock up with the entrance to my pussy.

  “Just do it,” I say. We’ve spent enough time stalling. I want to be over the first hurdle and capable of enjoying whatever it is that comes next. It’s not like I’m unaware. I have a giant pink vibrator, for pity’s sakes.

  “Just shove it in,” he paraphrases. His hand cups the back of my neck, and he lifts me to him so that our lips meet. Then he does exactly as I’ve asked. He fills me with one powerful thrust.

  Oh! It’s different. Solid. Firm, but not nearly as unyielding as my rampant rabbit. He’s over me, but our hips don’t quite meet. Perhaps that’s a good thing, for I’m gulping and my body is alive with shock. Somehow I’m too full and stretched, but it’s curiously awesome at the same time. Still, it’s difficult not to tense. My teeth end up gritted, but his gentle kisses unlock my jaw.

  “Shush, there,” he soothes. “It’s okay. There’s no rush to move. We can take things slowly.”

  He’s never been the one to paint this moment with a sense of urgency. Need yes, but his desire is tempered by experience. He knows I can’t take everything he might like to give, not right away and all at once. Maybe if I’d actually been listening before this moment, I’d have taken note of the voice of experience.

  Like hell I would.

  “When you’re ready, go ahead and squeeze my butt, and I’ll move.”

  The irreverence of his phrasing makes me laugh and unravels some of the knots in my muscles. I squeeze as prompted, and we progress, tense and squeeze, squeeze and tense, until little by little he sinks fully inside of me. Only when he’s in deep do I realise how small a fraction of him initially filled me, and how much of him is inside me now. Comprehension of the fact is kind of dizzying. Everything feels out of control. I gulp down little bubbles of air that form butterflies in my stomach. I ache because I’m so stretched, but it’s a weird ache. Weird because it hurts and yet I like it. I want more of it, delivered fast. This is nothing like playing with my vibrator at all. I’m being touched numerous places all at once. Nor is everything concentrated on his cock. He’s weight is on me too, stealing some of my breath. His scent fills my nostrils. The longer strands of his hair tickle as they brush against my cheek. I curl my fingertips into the flesh of his cheeks praying that communicates my desires.

  Immediately, he sinks a little deeper, but then he pulls back leaving me bereft. I don’t want him to go. I want him closer.

  “I know what you want, Flicka.”

  His arms are braced either side of my head now, and I don’t know how, but he can see into my mind.

  “It’s this… and this. You want it like this.”

  I have no breath to answer him. No voice except the one I’m using to howl with.

  “Oh my God, that’s… Don’t stop.”

  “Wasn’t planning to. Not planning to for a good long time. Got a lot of time to make up.”

  Yeah, me too! I can’t hold it against him for wanting a lot of this and indulging in it at every opportunity. Not that I’m convinced it always feels precisely this fabulous. It wouldn’t be the same if it was someone I wasn’t so completely smitten with. Then, I think it’d just hurt.

  I am hopelessly besotted with him.

  So much so that I don’t ever want to let go. Our hips find a groove together, and I cling to him, but the pace isn’t wholly set by him. I jig faster as my body opens up and the slide gets smoother. Still, I know I’m going to be able to feel him later today, and possibly for several days to come. Not that I’m planning on leaving it days before we do this again.

  But that’s getting ahead of myself.

  Dare lifts some of his weight off me when I unclench my fingers so that I can explore more of his body. He’s lean all over, perfectly built. I touch his ink, even though I can’t exactly see it. I touch other parts I can’t exactly see either. Having that ability, being blessed with privilege, increases my sense of giddiness. Endorphins and I don’t know what else swirl around inside of me until I’m completely wired.

  I swear he’s the deadliest drug in existence, and I’m now incurably hooked.

  Hooked… and with a little bit of an extra something, totally going to come.

  I snatch at his wrist and attempt to drag it between us, down to the bit of my pussy that isn’t seeing the action right now.

  “You need something.”

  “Huh,” I grunt at him. I hope he doesn’t interpret that as uncertainty.

  “Something right about here?” He shifts his balance over onto one arm and nails my clit with his thumb.

  “Oh God, yeah!”

  I don’t know how he knows exactly how I need it, but thank God he does.

  My toes curl. Our bodies slam together so that his hand gets trapped. Right when I think I’m done for, he slides forward so we’re no longer so perfectly aligned and then his cock takes over the mission of kneading my clit, thus freeing up his hand so that he can better hold me to him. I’m snuggled hard against his body as I fly into the sun.

  It’s only after I’ve wrung myself out that I’m with it enough to understand he hasn’t been flying alongside me. Dare pulls out of me and sheds the condom. I don’t see where it goes. The important action is happening where his hand meets his shaft.

  “I’m going to come all over you.” The warning is barely out of his mouth before he’s tossing his head back and his spine is arching. The tendons in his forearm all stand out as jets of his spunk hit my belly and breasts. He’s an animal, spraying his seed around.

  “Do you have a thing about that?”

  “Definitely.”

  “It’s only a little bit weird.” Secretly, I’m amused by it. It’s kind of cute that he wants to put his mark on me. “Are you gonna want to rub it into my skin?”

  “Would it freak you out if I did?”

  I shake my head. “Only a little. I’d have rather you’d come inside of me.”

  “I know.” It feels as if there ought to be more to the remark beyond an acknowledgment, but it doesn’t take any really figuring out to know where his mind has wandered. Coming over me isn’t just about it being his thing. Th
ere are consequences to coming inside a woman, and he’s faced them before. The possibility of a similar situation arising again can’t ever be far from his mind.

  Dare remains quiet for a long time. He sucks in a couple of desperate breaths, then looks at me while rubbing his chin. I don’t say anything either. I’m not abreast of current post-sex etiquette and I don’t want to unravel the spell we’ve woven. Although, maybe it’s too late and I already did.

  “The nails definitely need cutting,” he eventually says in a deadpan way that makes me edgy. Only when he breaks a smile and turns his head to try and look at his own arse do I comprehend his reasoning. I’ve left ten livid half-moon indents on his cheeks. Damn! Guess I’m more than a little wild for Mr Wilde.

  “But everything else was good, right?” I touch him where a flourish of ink curls around his upper arm.

  “You seriously need to ask?” He dips his head and I learn what a filthy beast he is when he cleans up the mess he’s made with his tongue. I’m not sure I really knew that guys did that, but now that I genuinely know it’s a thing, I think I might qualify as utterly depraved too, because I can’t help but like it.

  I love it even better when he kisses me with the taste of himself still on his lips.

  ***

  I think it’s mid-afternoon when Lorne hammers on the door and demands entry. At least he arrives bearing gifts in the form of a platter full of gourmet sandwiches, a punnet of strawberries, and a bowl of molten chocolate.

  “Thought you might need an energy boost. Also, I’m seriously sick of listening to this thing beep.” He hands me my phone, which I instantly turn off and cast upon the floor. I don’t want anything to do with the outside world right now. Lorne is a big enough intrusion. He sits on the corner of the bed and looks the pair of us over with a smirk on his face, before claiming one of the strawberries and popping it in his mouth.

  “I should have brought cherries, eh?”

  “Can it, now!” Dare snaps.

  Lorne steals another strawberry. This one he dips into the chocolate sauce. I never though a man could look so sexy chewing something, but hell, Lorne manages it. “So, when are you going to tell her about us?”