by Wild, Nikki
He slipped his strong arms around me, his biceps bulging and quaking as he lifted me up to his mouth. In the space between us I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing them down his legs along with his boxer briefs until I could feel his hard flesh brushing against my mound. He was so stiff, so swollen for me that I knew it must be painful. I let my hand wander over it, teasing his shaft with my fingers as I traced every vein that ran from root to tip, making him shudder and groan.
“Maddy,” he gasped into my ear. His breath was sweltering hot. “I need you.”
“I need you too,” I told him, wrapping my legs around his waist as he took the invitation and dove inside of me, striking deep and true.
I threw my head back, my hair spilling over the seat behind me as Preston captured my throat in his lips. He placed soft, lazy kisses all along it, each press of his mouth inspiring in me a new kind of pleasure I’d never felt before. I wiggled as he teased, sighing and shivering, digging my nails into his shoulders as he pumped steadily into my warm, wet chasm. There was a tenderness in his touch this time, a desperation that transcended mere carnal need.
Preston wasn’t fucking me this time. This time, we were making love.
I hid my face in the curve of his neck, muffling my cries of ecstasy on his flesh. He only allowed this for a few moments before he took a handful of my hair and pulled me away from him, gazing into my eyes as he said, “Look at me.”
I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing with shy desire. He smiled and kissed each one, showering that redness with affection as it lit up my freckles like the lights on a Christmas tree.
Preston drove into me again and again until finally he sat back on his heels, pulling my hips up onto the tops of his thighs and knees. He held me with one hand as the other drifted to my pussy, his thumb grinding into my clit as I seized and shouted, clenching him between my thighs as I gasped for breath.
“Fuck! Preston!”
“Cum for me, Maddy,” he said. He sounded more like he was begging than commanding. It thrilled me all the same. “Please, baby. I want to feel you around me. I need to feel you…”
I grasped my tits in my hands, tugging and toying with my nipples as bolts of bliss jolted into my core. A tension was building, one that had been waiting quite some time for release, and when the dam finally burst I careened headlong into a beautiful abyss.
I writhed uncontrollably, my inner muscles clenching down around Preston’s cock and milking it for all it was worth as wave after wave of rapture overtook me. It was like a tide was sweeping me out into an endless sea, pulling me down into depths I could not fathom, assuring that I would never breathe again as I sank and sank. And yet I didn’t care. I wanted those waves to drown me, to pour over me and wash every ounce of my being away. But Preston kept me grounded. He held onto me, watching as his face twisted with pleasure, gritting his teeth as his own passion consumed him just as it had consumed me.
“Maddy,” he groaned. That word left his lips like a prayer, and a moment later, he worshipped me with his seed.
He fell forward and I caught him, kissing him over and over as he filled me in the way I’d needed ever since we’d last seen each other. That sensation of wholeness returned to me, and for the first time in weeks, I felt utterly at peace with him and with myself.
We lay together for innumerable moments, entwined in one another and unwilling to let go. Tears were brimming in my eyes again. The tidal wave of my pleasure had been replaced by one of emotion, and I couldn’t stop the sobs wracking my body as Preston kept me safe in his arms.
“Hey,” he said, finally drawing away from me. “You know who deserves a happy ending?”
“We do,” I said, laughing as I blinked the happy tears from my eyes. “We fucking do.”
Preston smiled. He brushed the last tear away with his thumb. “You’re damn right,” he told me. “And I think I know just the place to make it happen...”
If you’d told me three weeks ago that I’d have Maddy out on my boat cruising through the Caribbean, I would have said you were crazy. Back then she was still my soon-to-be stepsister, it looked like my father had won, and I’d firmly believed I’d chased away the love of my life for good.
Now here we were, just the two of us aboard my boat, the shadow of impending relation no longer looming over us. We were finally, completely free, and it was the best feeling I’d ever had.
I watched her as she sauntered over in her white string bikini, the one with a big, gold ring that pulled together the front of her top and accentuated her inhumanly perfect cleavage. The way her hair fluttered in the warm breeze made her look like she was in some kind of Sports Illustrated ad as she bent over to hand me another daiquiri.
I gently pulled open the front of her top with one finger and peeked at her bountiful breasts. She laughed and slapped my hand away before sitting down on my lap, relaxing against me in the sun.
“This is perfect,” she said, sipping on her drink as we baked under the clear skies together. “I can’t believe how lucky we are.”
“Good things come to those who do good,” I told her. It might have been ineloquent, but it was true. “You taught me that,” I added, kissing her shoulder.
She smiled and turned toward me, placing her own kiss on my temple. “I love you, Preston Harvey. You know that?”
I grinned. It was the first time either of us had said it to each other, but we’d both known well before now how we felt. It had been love at first sight—we just hadn’t known it at the time. Now that we did, it was something we’d never forget.
It still felt good to hear her say it, though. And it was only fitting, since I had a very important question for her.
“I love you too,” I replied, kissing her on the lips. Then I tapped her thigh with the palm of my hand. “You gotta get up, though. I have something to give you.”
Maddy giggled and stood, looking up at me as I got up from the lounge chair. “Is that a ring box in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
I stared at her, mouth agape. “You bitch,” I muttered, giggling as she slapped my shoulder. “You ruined the surprise.”
“The real surprise would be if you managed to slip something past me,” she said, biting her lip as she gazed up into my eyes. “Come on, Preston. Ask me. You already know what I’m going to say.”
I smirked. “Yes, ma’am,” I said as I did what I was told.
I lowered myself down on one knee with much grunting and groaning and holding my back while Maddy rolled her eyes and tried not to smile at me. Then I reached into the pocket of my shorts and pulled out the ring box she’d already known was there. At least she didn’t know what was inside of it.
“Madison Hearst,” I began, and even though I knew what her answer would be, my pulse quickened all the same. “You are the single best thing to have ever happened to me. Before you, I thought I knew what wealth was. Before you, I thought I knew how the world worked. Before you, I was sure there was no such thing as love. Well, I was an idiot. You made me see that. And now I want to show you something in return.”
I opened up the box. I’d never felt so proud in my life as I did at that moment when she gasped.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Jesus, Preston. It’s beautiful!”
She stared down at the rose gold ring I’d picked out for her, the one with a twisted, diamond-encrusted shank framing the brightest pink diamond money could buy. Knowing and loving Maddy had made me rich in an intangible way, but being an actual billionaire still had its merits when it came to gifts.
The sun reflected off the gem’s surface, painting Maddy’s face with an array of prisms that would have rivaled the Hope Diamond. I took her hand—she was too flabbergasted to give it to me on her own—and slowly slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as I’d intended. It had been hell getting her ring size while she was sleeping.
“Madison Hearst,” I intoned, trying to sound very, very serious. “Will you marry me?”
&n
bsp; Maddy looked from me to the ring, then back again. I quirked a brow at her as I waited for her to respond.
In typical Maddy fashion, she made me wait. And then she grinned and threw her arms around me as I stood, bouncing up and down as she cried, “Yes! Yes!” over and over again.
My heart swelled as I took her in my arms, holding her tightly and kissing over the waves of her hair as she committed to being my wife. I’d never wanted anything so badly in all my life as this, and now that I had it, I felt utterly complete.
Maddy looked up at me and bit her lip. With a very put-on Southern accent, she asked me, “Does that mean we ain’t gonna be kin no more?”
I shook my head at her and laughed. “Only by marriage,” I replied, and kissed my bride-to-be once more.
Dear reader: I’m not done with you yet, turn the page for the last special bonus novel, ILLICIT BEHAVIOR!
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ILLICIT BEHAVIOR: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance
By Nikki Wild
Copyright 2015 Nikki Wild
All Rights Reserved
Although I hold the copyright, this ebook is completely DRM-FREE copy and you can read it on any device you wish to with zero restrictions. You paid for this story, and you deserve to be able to enjoy it on any device you see fit. THANK YOU for supporting an Independent Author.
–Nikki Wild
Thank you for supporting an independent author! Just for my naughty readers, my entire catalog is now FREE TO READ to anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription!
Be sure to check out my entire naughty Nikki Wild catalog by clicking RIGHT HERE!
You might be interested to know that I offer a chance to be an ARC reader, special limited time discounts, new release notification, and FREE EXCLUSIVE CONTENT to anyone that subscribes to my Nikki Wild List! So go ahead, sign up is easy and I will NEVER send you spam or share your e-mail address with anyone.
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Chapter 1
Trent
“Dude! These groupies are totally ready to go!” My dreadlocked bastard of a bohemian guitarist laughed, splashing his bottle of beer in an arc.
The two hot young girls wrapped around him cooed a chorus of flirtatious giggles. They must have been just barely eighteen, clad in tight, low-cut shirts that made their silky, angelic breasts practically burst out of the seams.
Despite my lack of interest, I wasn’t about to rain on his parade. I lightly raised my own bottle of music festival beer to him, shaking my head.
“You go on ahead, man. Not feelin’ it tonight.”
No matter where we went, fans were throwing themselves at us – and my band-mates were always eager to take the free, willing pussy back to the bus for a fresh bang.
In fact, my bassist and drummer were already back there now, getting their freak on with a few nameless groupies now.
“Serious?” Waylon asked drunkenly.
His limber playing hand slid under a skirt and along a tanned, tender ass, drawing a blush from the groupie’s cheeks. The sight made my cock almost twitch.
Almost.
“You sure you don’t want to try a piece of this Alabama ‘tang?” He pressed on. “Plenty to go around. I’m not greedy.”
The groupie twosome puffed their chests and wiggled provocatively for me, giving me the deepest pair of sultry, lustful looks that they could muster.
They looked cute.
Cute, and too young to be acting like this.
“Think I’m just gonna relax and ride the vibe,” I reaffirmed. “Go get your dick wet.”
“If you say so!”
“And ladies,” I continued, turning towards the girls, who settled down and looked at me almost fearfully. “Don’t keep him up all night. This guy needs to be shredding licks same time tomorrow.”
They nodded respectfully, but Waylon jumped up to his feet, his dreads scattering around his face briefly.
“Ain’t gonna happen. This train rides ‘til sunrise! Ain’t that right, ladies?”
They chuckled with big, goofy hero-worshipping grins on their faces. He scooped them up against his sides, and soon they stumbled off towards the back of the after-party, heading for our bus.
Joke’s on them, I thought to myself. Waylon’s a two-pump chump on a GOOD day.
Truth of the matter was that I’d been in a funk. For the last few weeks, I had turned down sex left, right, and center from even the most flexible little minxes.
A constant stream of the hottest goddamn chicks around went fucking wild for us on the regular.
And why shouldn’t they?
We weren’t just anybody.
We were Trent Masters and the Whiplash, the hottest fucking rock band in America.
On national radiowaves dominated by DJs making music off of laptops, mainstream child stars glammed up and given backing bands, and egotistical personalities lacking substance and spitting shit…we brought something better.
Something harder.
Something real.
Something apparently sorely missed.
Our latest album, Twelve Machines, was flying off the shelves across the country. The last two singles went platinum. Hell, talks of a Grammy nomination were already in the pipeline.
I was on top of the fucking world.
Or I should have felt like I was.
But all I felt was empty inside, and even the quick fix of endless sex didn’t quell the tension.
It was hard to think I was taking advantage of these girls when they grinded up against me at after-parties like this, always seeming so desperate to give my cock the old spit-shine.
It just didn’t feel right.
But… I couldn’t tell what I wanted instead.
What I needed.
I drank another swig from my bottle of beer, watching the other bands delight in the attention. We were in town for this badass music festival called the RipFest, and we’d shared the stage with some serious rock legends and decent upcoming talent.
They were having fun. Even the older, crustier guys looked like they were having a blast, likely filled with enough drugs to bring down a Bull Rhino in its prime.
It’s not like I wasn’t grateful… I was just… Lost.
The constant attention was overwhelming – too much of a great fucking thing. I had to be careful about the shit I said, because rock stars were even closer to scandal in this day and age.
Everything constantly recorded, rumors spread with the speed of a tweet and the snap of a camera on some girl’s iPhone.
It was all about being careful and avoiding the wrong kind of spotlight. Blogs are eager for clicks, and the whole world is ready to tear you down to build an audience.
I’d paid my dues.
No more practicing in oily garages and filthy bars. No more struggling in hard labor and backbreaking jobs to make ends meet. I wasn’t going to let some little misstep tear me down.
Despite the bullshit, the throne on this rising fucking star felt grand.
But as the light grew brighter…the shadows only grew filthier. Despite all the fame, all the success, all the money and women and the fancy toys. I knew the truth.
The world is a filthy place.
And I am th
e reigning king of the filth.
Chapter 2
Angel
Summoning every drop of charisma that I could find, I smiled and plunked down the glasses at the four-top bar table for the graying, slovenly bikers. I rattled off the orders as I sloshed the drinks in front of them in turn, each of them smiling grotesquely.
“Four drafts: Bud, Bud, Miller Lite, and Abita. And four shots of Fireball, because why not,” I added mirthlessly.
“Thanks, darlin’,” the closest biker chuckled, lifting his shot and suddenly grabbing a nice handful of my ass.