Bad Intentions (Bad Love)

by Charleigh Rose

  “About last night…” she changes the subject, addressing the elephant in the room. One of them, at least. “You said being with me was a mistake.”

  “It was,” I say truthfully, and she swallows hard, keeping her expression neutral to mask the sting from my words. Always trying to play it cool, this girl. “But not in the way you’re thinking.” Her eyes meet mine, and I decide to lay it out there. We’ve already crossed the line. “It was a mistake to hire you because now I have to see you without having you every day. It was a mistake to sleep with you because I want to do it again.”

  “Why can’t we?” Lo asks in that seductively sweet voice, her lips settling in a pout. I want to feel that mouth wrapped around me, sucking me, while she looks up at me from her knees.

  “We said just friends,” I remind her, my voice coming out huskier than I intended. Lo rises to her knees and lifts a knee to straddle me, giving me a flash of pink before seating herself on my lap.

  “I’m a shitty friend.” She’s grinding into me, only my sweatpants between us. “Besides,” she whispers, her lips ghosting along the shell of my ear, “sometimes, friends fuck.”

  Lo’s hands reach for the band on my sweats before her warm hand circles my cock. I should stop her. She’s been harassed and manhandled, and here I am, fighting my desire to throw her down and make her mine.

  Mine. What the fuck?

  She isn’t mine. Not even close.

  Lo pulls me out of my pants, and all thoughts of stopping this die as she shifts forward, sliding my dick between her lips. My hands land on the tops of her thighs, gripping hard.

  “Fuck, Lo.”

  Her eyes close and her hands brace against my shoulders as she rocks against me, cradling my cock in the warmest, wettest fucking heaven. It would be so easy to shift my hips and thrust inside her. One little move is all it would take.

  “Do friends do this?”

  “Absolutely fucking not,” I growl, smoothing my hands up to squeeze her ass, pulling her into me.

  “What about…best friends?” she asks, breathless.

  “If they do, I’ll be you best fucking friend forever.”

  Lo giggles, and the sound makes my dick twitch. I push her shirt up, and she lifts her arms for me. Pale tits are decorated with purple marks from last night and the sight shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. I flatten my hands against her back, pulling her closer, then softly kissing and licking each mark. Lo sucks in a breath, hands sliding through my hair to keep me close. I suck on her, leaving my mark on her shoulder, collarbone, and underneath her ear while her breathing becomes ragged.

  “Don’t make me beg.” Lo’s so wet that my sweats are a darker shade of gray beneath her. I fist her hair in my hands, scraping my teeth along the side of her neck.

  “Remember when I said I didn’t have bad intentions?”

  “Yes,” she whines, moving faster, and I feel like I could come from this alone.

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Good.”

  I lift her at the curve in her hips, her knees landing on either side of my head against the back of the couch, and I latch my mouth to her pussy. Lo screams, fingers locking into my hair to keep her balance, but I don’t hold back. I feast on her like she’s my last meal as she rubs herself against me.

  “Fuck my tongue.” I slide it inside her, and she clenches around my tongue. “You like that?” I ask, my hands on her ass, keeping her anchored to my face.

  “Fuck yes.”

  “Then you’re going to love this.” I slide my hand from her perfect ass to the wetness underneath before circling a finger around her other hole.

  “Oh my God, Dare,” she whines, slowing her movements at the added sensation. “I can’t move. I can’t.” Her voice is desperate, legs locked tight. Barely breaking our connection, I throw her to the couch, my mouth on her clit, one hand sliding up her stomach, a finger from the other hand pressing against her ass. I don’t push inside yet, just rubbing, probing.

  Lo presses against my finger, and she moans loudly, her back lifting from the couch, so I do it again before I flatten my palm against her sternum. I slide my hand up to curl my fingers around her throat, testing her reaction.

  “Harder,” she demands, wrapping a hand around my wrist as her legs start to shake. I apply more pressure as I slip my middle finger inside her tight ring and suck her clit into my mouth.

  “I want to fuck this soon.”

  I only pump my finger once, twice, three times before she cries out, “Fuck!” Her legs lock up, and her mouth parts in a silent scream as she breaks apart.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Still gripping her throat, my thumb glides across her bottom lip before dipping inside her mouth. Her lips automatically close around it, giving it a little suck. I’m so fucking hard. It’s a miracle I haven’t fucked her yet, but seeing that was worth it.

  Her body starts to relax, her legs falling limply to the side. I pull my finger from her body, pin her thighs flat to the couch and give her soft licks with the flat of my tongue as she comes down from her orgasm. Her chest heaves as I sit back on my heels, tearing off my shirt and taking my cock out. I take her by surprise when I hook my hands under her knees and jerk her toward me before guiding my dick inside her.

  “I’m not done yet.” Fucking her spent, boneless body after I’ve made her come is quickly becoming my favorite pastime.

  I fold her legs around my back and scoop her up, staying inside her as I walk up the stairs to my room. She tucks her head between my shoulder and my neck, nipping at my throat while each step has her bouncing on my cock.

  Once we’re in my room, Lo squeals as I practically throw her off my dick and onto my bed. I shove my sweatpants down my legs, and her eyes are hungry as she takes me in.

  “Turn around.”

  She doesn’t ask for clarification. She moves onto her elbows and knees, sliding her hands forward until only her chest hits the bed, ass in the air. If I had my phone near me, I’d take a picture to remember this ass forever. Burning it into my brain will have to do.

  I slap two palms against her cheeks before squeezing hard. I dip my head down to bite one side, then the other. She moans low and desperate as I knead and spread her cheeks. When I lean forward, giving her a long lick from clit to backside, she collapses onto the bed, one side of her face mashed into my black sheets.

  “Get back here,” I say, grabbing her hips and angling her ass toward the sky while the rest of her body lies flat on the bed. I eat her like this, thighs touching, sliding my tongue between her lips before I pull back and straddle her thighs.

  “Hold yourself open for me,” I say, and she complies, hair in her face, mouth parted as she spreads herself with both hands. I fist my length, guiding it to her entrance, dragging it through her wetness a few times before finally pushing inside.

  “Oh fuck.” I thrust forward, keeping my hips flush against her ass. This position is going to kill me. If I could live in this pussy, I would. I start to move, and Lo presses back into me, her moans muffled by my mattress. I reach around to rub her clit, and she pulses around me almost instantly.

  “Did you just come again?”

  Lo looks at me over her shoulder and nods. Clutching her chin between my fingers, I lean forward and kiss her hard and deep. I’m not going to last long. Not when it’s like this.

  When I pull back, my cock is coated with her cum. My balls tighten, and the sight of her pussy contracting back to normal, having been temporarily stretched by me, throws me into my orgasm. Lo still holds herself open, and I jerk myself hard, coming all over both her holes.

  I slump forward on the bed next to her. There are no words, no movements, nothing besides our harsh breathing. Her hair sticks to her damp, rosy cheeks, and I reach over to tuck it behind her ear.

  “Big mistake,” I say, tracing my fingers along her ear, jaw, neck, shoulder…she shivers at my touch, eyes at half-mast. I skim down her back, and she arches prettily once I get to the
dip in her spine. I slip my fingers between her legs, sliding them through the mess we made. She gives a soft moan.

  “Huge.”

  * * *

  THIS IS BAD. THE THOUGHT plays on a loop in my brain. Dare stood up for me. He defended me. He took me home to protect me. Then he fucked me like a god. It’s starting to feel like…more.

  I step out of Dare’s steaming shower and wrap myself in the white towel he hung for me. After fucking me into oblivion, I declared that I needed a shower. I was covered in sex and tears and sweat, and I needed to wash today off me. I spot a pile of clothes that Dare left on the granite sink.

  This house is as much of a mystery as the man himself. It’s a gorgeous home, but there’s nothing personal anywhere, except for a set of three black and white pine trees framed above his simple king-sized bed.

  I pull the shirt over my head—this time black—and a pair of boxer briefs over my hips. Combing my fingers through my hair, I look at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, but my eyes look tired. I open the door and pad across the hardwood floor of Dare’s bedroom, not stopping until I reach the edge of the bed where he sits in those gray sweats, no shirt, tattooed torso on display.

  Dare slides a hand up the back of my calf to my bent knee and presses his forehead against my thigh. The gesture feels decidedly intimate, and I wonder if maybe something is shifting for him, too. Tentatively, I run my hand through his hair, and he leans into my touch.

  “Let’s sleep,” he mumbles, leaning back to lie down on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head. I don’t argue about sleeping in his bed. That would be weird, considering he now knows parts of my body better than I do. I crawl into his bed, lying on my side to face him. His profile is illuminated by soft light coming from the lamp on his nightstand—sharp jaw, stubble on his cheeks, lips pressed in a hard line.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “What’s the story with you guys?” He doesn’t specify what he means, as if he’s been fixating on Eric since earlier today. I huff out a breath, rolling onto my back.

  “How many times do I have to go over this?” I ask, resigned.

  “I just want to understand.”

  I sigh, staring at the ceiling. As long as I don’t have to see the look in his eyes, I can tell him.

  “I was nannying for another family. One of the girls had a birthday party, and Eric approached me. He told me he was looking for a nanny and offered me a shit ton of cash.” I give a humorless laugh. “We were so broke, it wasn’t even funny. It got to the point where we had to decide whether we wanted to live without electricity or food. Mom spent every dime on drugs, and Jess was dealing them to help pay bills. I couldn’t pass it up.

  “He spun this whole story about how he needed help with his son, Cayden, because his wife was addicted to painkillers and alcohol. Stupidly, I related to that. I wanted to help him.”

  “That’s not stupid,” Dare interjects.

  “It was,” I disagree. “One night when I was about to leave, he sat at his desk—just like he did at the end of every week—to write my check. I remember thinking something was different because he was taking a long time. I sat there, feeling awkward, playing video games with Cayden while I waited. When he finally handed me the check, it was significantly more than he usually paid me, and there was a sticky note attached to it that said he wanted me to meet him in his office in ten minutes.”

  I inhale deeply.

  “That’s when we slept together.”

  Dare grits his teeth, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “He told me his marriage was over, that she simply stayed there to save face, but they hadn’t been together in a long time. I believed him because I rarely ever saw her, and if I did, she was blitzed out of her mind. Part of me felt like I had to be with him, or he’d fire me. Part of me liked that someone of his caliber wanted me.” I roll my eyes, knowing how fucking stupid and pathetic that sounds.

  “Slowly, he became increasingly possessive. It’s like he thought he had the right to control every aspect of my life because he paid me well. I stuck around for way too long because I didn’t want to leave Cayden, but I didn’t sleep with him again. Eventually, I took other nanny jobs, tried to distance myself. When I wouldn’t answer his calls, he started showing up unannounced. I’d be in the shower or sleeping in my bed, and he’d be there. ‘Checking in,’ he’d say. He accused me of sleeping with the other dads I worked for, called me a whore, a gold digger. He made me feel like shit about myself, and for a while, I thought he was all I deserved. All I cared about—all I still care about—is being able to take care of Jesse. He’s the only thing that matters to me.”

  Dare nods but doesn’t interrupt my verbal diarrhea.

  “Jess hated him from the start. He knew he was bad news, and they constantly butted heads.”

  “What made you finally leave?”

  This is the part I hate talking about. The part that makes me feel like the worst kind of human. But I decide to purge it all. To get it over with so I don’t have to rehash it again. “Right before we left, I went to hang the towels in their upstairs bathroom. Before I could flip the light on, I slipped in something. It was blood. I freaked out. I didn’t know who or where it came from, but Cayden was at school, so at least I knew it wasn’t him.

  “I checked all the rooms before finding his wife, Olivia. She had apparently miscarried and was barely conscious. I didn’t know whether it was because she was fucked up on pills or losing too much blood, but both were true.” Or at least, I thought she was losing too much blood. I’d never had a miscarriage before—didn’t know what was normal—but it seemed excessive to me.

  “Fuck,” Dare says, reaching over to link his fingers with mine.

  “I called an ambulance, called Eric, then waited with her until they got there. She was mumbling incoherently, but I’m fluent in drug-induced ramblings, thanks to my mom. She said she knew I’d slept with Eric. Accused me of being the reason that she was so stressed. Said it caused her to miscarry and that this baby was supposed to fix things.”

  “You know it doesn’t work like that,” Dare says quietly.

  “I know.” I nod. And I do. I know it wasn’t my fault. The only thing I’m guilty of is being too naïve and believing his lies. They were never separated, like he led me to believe. And playing a role in that fucked-up situation doesn’t feel good no matter who’s at fault.

  “Jess got kicked out of school for hacking their system and got caught up in some trouble with the guys he was dealing for. My mom’s boyfriend beat the shit out of both Jess and me because we wouldn’t give him drug money, and when the cops showed up on our doorstep, I took my opportunity. I ratted my mom and her boyfriend out, and when they took her to jail, I called Henry, packed a couple bags, and left with Jess the next morning.”

  “That’s why you had a black eye when we met?” Dare asks, his voice deadly calm, but his expression murderous. He cups my cheek, and I nod, soaking up his touch, my hands covering his wrist.

  “I just wanted a fresh start,” I breathe, tears pricking my eyes. “I hate talking about this stuff,” I say, covering my eyes with my forearm. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “You were trying to take care of your family. There’s no fucking shame in that. I wish I had someone who cared about me half as much as you care about your brother.”

  “Tell me about you?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t deny me after spilling all that stuff about myself.

  “Quid pro quo, huh?” He’s on his side facing me now. His voice is so nonchalant, but I can tell he feels anything but. “I never knew my parents. I was left in a parking lot when I was four, along with a note with my first name and birthday. No last name. I guess I was found at the store on Adair Street, so that’s where my last name comes from.”

  My eyes widen at his words. He mentioned being in foster care, but I didn’t know the details. I feel stupid for being so wrapped up in my own stupid problems that pale in comparison.


  “I wasn’t where I should’ve been, developmentally speaking. I was small. Malnourished. I barely spoke. I didn’t even know my last name,” he says, giving a bitter laugh. “What four-year-old doesn’t know their own name? I had behavioral issues, too. No one wanted that. They wanted to adopt adorable bouncing babies with big gummy smiles. When I got older, I was mad at the world, jumping from foster family to foster family, never staying anywhere for more than a few months, and the ones who did keep me were usually abusive pieces of shit who just wanted a paycheck.”

  “That’s awful.” My tears are for a completely different reason now. My heart physically hurts thinking of little Stefan, all alone in a parking lot. We might have been dirt-poor, but at least Jess and I always had each other growing up. That was one thing we could always count on.

  On the day Dare and I met, he told me he’d wet the bed until he was twelve. I’d laughed, thinking it was just embarrassing kid stuff. Now, I feel like a pile of shit because it was so much more than that. “You never had one family that was good to you?”

  A darkness flashes across his features. “I did, for a while…” He trails off, seemingly lost in a memory before clearing his throat. “But it didn’t work out.”

  I reach out to trace the pine tree silhouettes on his forearm. I don’t know why, I just feel the need to touch him in this moment. Dare tenses, but he doesn’t pull away. I feel something rough and bumpy under the ink, and when I look closer, I see the skin is slightly raised there.

  “What happened here?”

  “Double compound fracture. Two plates. Ten screws.”

  “Jesus, what were you doing?” I run my fingers along the line that runs from the top of his forearm down to his wrist.

  “Fell on the ice.”

  “It looks like a centipede,” I remark. When I look up, Dare’s staring at me intently. I notice the faint freckles on his nose for the first time. They make him look innocent and boyish—two words no one would ever use to describe him, I’m sure.