Bad Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “No. I won’t let you have sex with me out of pity.”

  I yank her down onto the mattress and climb on top of her. “Shut up, Vivian. Close your face.”

  Her tension and agitation take up the whole room. “Don’t talk to me like—”

  God, she just won’t stop. I shut her the hell up with a kiss. Deep and stirring. I stroke my tongue into the depths of her mouth, my nerve endings overwhelmed by the softness and warmth of her. As I work my lips over hers, her muscles slowly begin to relax. She stops fighting me and instead, she gives in. Her arms go around my neck and she sighs in surrender. I kiss her until she’s desperate and struggling for air.

  I pull away and her big, dark eyes consume me. "So, you've got some salty strands in the bush. Big fucking deal."

  "Clinton..." she says in warning, her nostrils twitching with a restrained laugh.

  I tug playfully on the hem of her shirt. "You’re beautiful, Vivian. Absolutely gorgeous. I adore you. I adore every inch of you.” I brush my lips over the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the little wrinkle bracketing her mouth. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” She gasps and her eyes get watery. But if she’s gonna cry, I want her crying out in pleasure. I fall onto my back and pull her on top of me. “Bring that snow-covered pussy over here. Let me lick it good." I tap her butt, nudging her to bring her pelvis toward my face.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t fight me. She just giggles as she scoots across the bed until her pretty cunt is just inches from my mouth. Leaning up, I’m greedy to suck her clit into my mouth. A hoarse sound pours out of her and her knees waver. I cup her ass cheeks in my palms, propping her up as I drag my teeth along the sensitive bud. God, this is heaven. I’m almost mad that she tried to deprive me of this all in the name of some stupid insecurities. When I’m done with her tonight, she’ll never doubt her beauty again.

  "I knew you'd have one of those thick, meaty clits." She gasps. I look up into her face and find her absolutely horrified and offended by my words. I just give her a crooked grin and twirl my tongue around the chubby button. “Mmm. I’m definitely not complaining. All the better to eat you, my love.” Her eyes zip shut and she moans.

  Soft stabs of my tongue into her folds make her moan. I suck her swollen lips as her juices coat my mouth and I stroke my thumb on her clit in slow circles. I kiss her pussy until her legs are trembling and she’s going tense above me. She falls forward and buries her face in the mattress. That muffles her desperate screams. The orgasm shakes her thoroughly, assaulting her defenses until she topples over on her side, legs tangled around my head. She struggles for breath.

  I move up the bed so I’m lying beside her. I watch her beautiful, tortured face as the waves subside and a deep satisfied grin curves her lips. I kiss her softly but she wants more.

  She pulls me on top of her, her body telling me that she wants me inside. I struggle with my belt and finally push my pants down my legs without breaking the kiss. She reaches for my shirt, undoing the buttons and tearing it down my shoulders.

  And now, I’m hovering above her, our eyes locked on each other. There’s something powerful about the moment. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to give this woman a baby. What life would be like as her husband. What it would feel like to be the type of father I never had. My stomach twists itself into a knot as I come to grips with how much I want that.

  My gaze moves to the box of condoms on the floor in the mix of sex toys. Vivian looks at it, too. Then, our eyes lock yet again.

  She reaches between us and takes hold of my stiff, throbbing cock. She positions it at her entrance and lifts her hips, swallowing me into her wet, sweltering heat. Her moan is a little blessing, designed for my ears only.

  In that moment, my knees go weak. My breathing hitches. It’s a small gesture but an enormous show of trust. She trusts me. She just let me all the way inside. It’s a gift I intend to cherish.

  I move inside of her, thrusting deep and slow, enjoying the feel of her. Every little ripple, every wet gush. I'm addicted to the subtle nuances in her expression each time I change the angle and the way her breath stilts when I lean forward to kiss her neck and the grip of her fingers curled around my biceps like she's begging me to stay inside of her forever.

  "I'm falling for you..." She almost sounds afraid when she whispers it. She looks at me with big eyes, holding her breath for my reaction like she expects me to respond with something cruel.

  This is all happening so fast. In the back of my mind I'm thinking that this woman is crazy. How could this be love? We don’t even know each other. A few days ago, we didn’t even like each other...but fuck it, 'cause I'm crazy, too.

  I trap her earlobe between my teeth. I hear myself saying words I never thought I'd say. "I beat you to it, Sunflower. I'm already there."

  Her light breath breezes over my skin as she laughs. She holds me tighter because now she knows for sure that I'm hers. And she’s mine.

  I'm pumping faster now, taking full control of her body. I plan on keeping her for good and every hard, rough thrust is my bond, a promise. I get so lost in her adoring gaze, so lost in her body that nearly fall over the cliff headfirst as she clenches beneath me. I catch myself just in time.

  “Turn over,” I rasp, my self-control holding on by a thread.

  She blinks up at me, eyes full of hesitation. “What…?”

  “Turn over. On your stomach. Ass in the air.” My voice is low, firm, unyielding. I reach for the bottle of lube on the floor and squeeze a dollop into my hand. Her eyes follow my movements as I smooth the slick gel down my cock.

  She whimpers, hesitating but I hold her gaze, letting her know I’m serious. I have every intention of shattering every one of her inhibitions. Tonight. When I’m done with her, she won’t ever doubt how much of a woman she is, she won’t doubt the fire inside of her and she definitely won’t forget that I’m the man to tear her free of her self-imposed chains.

  In a heartbeat, she’s on her belly, staring at me over her shoulder. My open palm collides softly with her meaty globe and I watch the sexy way the weight jiggles. Fucking gorgeous…With a half-grin, I squirt more gel into my palm and slick it up the crease of her ass. She breathes hard and fast. I drag the tip of my cock through her hot, drenched folds and press it against the pucker of her anus. “Vivian—I’m gonna take this hole, I’m gonna claim it. Tell me you want that.”

  She doesn’t pause. “I want that, Clint. Please take it.”

  Shit. I think I’m gonna lose my mind. I ease in slowly, bit by bit, getting her accustomed to the strain of my girth in that tiny hole. I massage her breasts, each one in turn, and stroke her clit, delivering continuous pleasure to void any trace of discomfort. She moans for me, rocking into the stunning mix of pain and pleasure.

  So tight. So hot. The sensation quickly becomes too much for me. “Fuck, I can’t hold out any longer.”

  She reaches behind her and pulls my face close to hers. “Come inside of me, Clint. I want your cum inside of me.” The way she slides her lips over mine and kisses me softly, I have no choice. My load shoots into the depths of her and she trembles, sighing my name as she hits her peak.

  Chapter 24

  Vivian

  I feel the blistering sting of disappointment when I blink my eyes open the next morning. Although the tender, aching muscles between my thighs scream ‘Clinton Alvarez was here’, the other side of my bed is empty. He’s gone.

  But strangely, I don’t lurch into panic mode or sink into despair. He’ll be back. I know he will. Because last night was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Every moment we shared was real. Every word we spoke was the truth. From the secrets he shared with me in the alley to the way he touched me in my bed. That man is mine. I’ve never been more certain of anything.

  Smiling softly, I stretch my arm across the linens and trace my fingers over the rumpled sheets where he slept. I inhale his virile scent in the pill
ow he used. I miss him already, so much.

  When I hear the familiar ceramic clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen, my heart starts walloping against my ribs. Maybe he isn’t gone after all. I climb out of bed and pull on a little T-shirt, then stick my head out the bedroom door. I catch sight of a strong, tattooed back hunched over the stove. My lips stretch on a wide smile. Tiptoeing across the hardwood floor, I surprise him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  But he’s too way cool to startle. Obviously. Instead, he grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth, setting a kiss on the back of my hand. “Good morning.” His voice is low and gravelly with sleep and sexy as all hell.

  “Good morning.” I peer around his back to catch a glimpse of what could be so riveting in front of him. It’s his cellphone sitting on the counter next to an empty egg carton and a bunch of chopped vegetables. He squints his eyes to read the screen. A recipe of some kind. “What are you making?” I ask with a little giggle. From the looks of the impressive spread on the counter, it seems like something fancy.

  He throws me a glance but when his eyes snag on my nipples poking against the fabric of my T-shirt, I get his full attention. He turns to face me. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed.” His gaze is transfixed to my breasts as brushes the pad of his finger over my left nipple. I feel the light touch between my thighs. “But you’re not in bed anymore, it seems.” He dips his head and sucks a mouthful of my breast between his lips. God, he’s a savage.

  I moan, pressing my chest into his mouth. I’m shameless about it. Everything he does to me feels good.

  He smiles slyly to himself as he picks up a fork and turns back to the eggs.

  Oh my god!

  I gasp loudly. "Whisking eggs with a fork? That's an atrocity! A crime against all of human civilization."

  “Is that so?” He snickers.

  I grab the wire whisk from the drawer and reach for the bowl of eggs. “Definitely.”

  He nudges me out of the way with a strong hip. “No! No, you’re not in charge here,” he tells me in a faux-stern voice. “Get out of here.”

  I protest. “You can’t aerate the eggs properly if you use a fork!”

  “Vivian—back to bed.”

  “The only way to get fluffy eggs is to make sure they’re properly whisked.”

  He steals the whisk from my hand and swats me on the bum. “Okay, you—no more smart comments out of you. Just get back in bed and wait to be served.” He points the whisk in the direction of the bedroom. “Can you do that?”

  We glare at each other for a moment. It’s a standoff.

  I lose.

  “Fine.” I pout.

  His laugh is deep and throaty. “Go. Shoo.” A few more taps on the butt. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”

  I trudge back down the hallway and crawl into bed, fighting off my smile the whole time. I could so get used to this, actually. It’s sort of nice to let someone else take control, in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in my heart. I lie down on the sheets and pull the blankets around me, allowing myself to get comfortable, lulled by the sound of Clinton banging around in the kitchen and the smell of the vegetables as they cook. I slip right back into dreamland.

  Next thing I know, there’s a strong hand on my shoulder nudging me awake. “Hey beautiful. Breakfast time.”

  I open my eyes and Clinton’s gorgeous face is what I see. He holds a plate out to me and I explode into laughter when I look down at the meal. He’s made a happy face using two fried eggs as the eyes, a dab of ketchup as the nose, bacon slices as the lips and hair made from an arch of sautéed vegetables.

  Taking the plate, I set it on my lap then reach up and grab his face between my hands. “Thank you.” I slide my lips over his.

  He sits at my feet and I grab a crispy slice of bacon, munching eagerly. “So, it’s Sunday, right? Your day off?” Cradling my foot in his hand, he begins rubbing my sole as he waits for an answer.

  Bacon AND a foot massage. Is this guy trying to kill me?

  My head is spinning—between the spanking and the breakfast and the reciting nursery rhymes about my genitalia, my chances of survival this weekend are diminishing at an alarming pace.

  I barely manage to speak without moaning. “Yeah, Sadie opens the shop up from 12:00 to 4:00. Reese and I take the day off.” When we originally opened the bakery, my sister and I ran the business alone, working seven days a week. I was tired but I kept pushing through until my sister burned out and it nearly cost her her life. That’s when we both decided that we needed a change and I (begrudgingly) agreed to let her hire Sadie.

  Clinton licks his lips and his eyelids go heavy and seductive. “Does that mean I get to have you to myself all day?”

  I wince as I slice the egg with the side of my fork. “Unfortunately, no. Today, I’m on daughter duty. I’m going to visit my parents in Springfield.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your dad’s in the state senate.” He nods as the nugget of information bobs back into his head.

  I don’t know why, but the fact that he remembered that sort of makes me feel closer to him. It makes me want to open up to him. “And my mom’s in a nursing home…” I add quietly.

  His movements freeze and he looks up at me. “Why is she in a nursing home?”

  “She has multiple sclerosis,” I say with a sigh as I set down my fork. “Her care is more than my dad can handle on his own and since they refuse to move back to Copper Heights, my mother is fifty-seven years old in a nursing home, in Springfield, four hours away from her kids.” Every time I think about it, I get so frustrated. If they weren’t so damn stubborn, they could be here around their kids who are willing and ready to help. Instead, strangers care for my mother every day and I only get to visit her once every few weeks.

  Clinton rubs my calf soothingly. “Viv, I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  Pushing down my sadness, I smile as brightly as I can manage. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know very much about the disease,” he says, sliding his fingers through my toes and massaging me there. “But I’ve heard that it’s painful.”

  I wipe my greasy fingers on a napkin. “There are days when the pain is manageable. But the bad days are really bad…”

  He’s quiet for a while, his attention focused on my foot as he twists it this way and that at the ankle. “What’s she like?” he asks in a slow, quiet voice.

  Surprised by the question, I let my eyes roam over his face. “My mom?”

  A short laugh spurts out of him. “Yeah, your mom. That’s who we’re talking about, right? What’s she like?”

  The question really throws me off. I can’t remember the last time I thought about my mother without imagining the burden of the disease shackled to her back, weighing her down. But Clinton’s question is an invitation to reminisce about all the things I love about her, beyond the multiple sclerosis.

  I find myself smiling. “She’s funny. Really funny. She’s so loyal to my dad. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing for them, but she’s always been committed to standing by his side and helping him weather each and every storm.” My eyes get misty and I wipe away the tears with the side of my finger. “She’s so good. A good mother, a good wife, a good person. And she makes it seem easy, effortless. All I’ve ever wanted is to be just like her…And that’s also my biggest fear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel like I’ll never quite get the chance to be like Gloria Hartely. The perfect mother. The perfect wife. Still, a woman who’s strong and independent on her own…MS is a degenerative disease,” I tell him. “My mom started showing symptoms at thirty. But she already had a family…It terrifies me to think that I may end up with multiple scleroisis without ever having a husband or kids, the thing that I want more than anything…”

  “I don’t know what the future holds for your health, but I do know that you don’t have to try to shadow your mother’s path. I’m sure she’d never ask you to.”

  �
��She wouldn’t. And I’m trying to be less afraid of falling short.”

  With his finger under my chin, he lifts my face. “You already are everything you’re supposed to be, Sunflower. So stop fretting about the future. Just focus on right now.”

  Tears drop onto the fabric of my T-shirt as I echo his words. “Focus on right now?” He makes it sound so simple.

  He leans across and grabs the plate from the side table. “Yeah, focus on the bacon.”

  Now, I’m laughing. “Focus on the bacon?”

  “Yeah, focus on the bacon. And pass some of it over here.” He leans close and opens his mouth like a child waiting to be fed.

  I brush the tears from my eyes and snatch up a slice of bacon. “Here comes the airplane,” I tease as my hand zips and soars through the air. “Open up for the airplane!”