Bad Boy's Toy: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Nicole Fox

  Yeah. This guy right here was what I needed. He could play Kevin Costner to my Whitney Houston anytime. I just knew it.

  Chapter Two

  Ford

  I was seeing red again. Just like in the bad old days, when I'd been in the ring. And, just like in those days, I was flat broke because of some poor choices.

  Figured I could take my bankroll down to the tables and pick up the rest of the money I needed to pay off my loan shark, Tambor. Should've stuck to my game, blackjack, but I didn't want to waste the time heading up to Vegas, when there was a perfectly good one down here at the roadhouse.

  Now, the money I was going to use to pay off Tambor was gone, sitting in front of Samuels. Damn, stupid luck.

  I could feel all their eyes on me as I towered over them, the vein in my forehead probably sticking out an inch from my skull.

  But, goddammit, how could I have lost on three of a kind? There was no way. I knew they'd rigged the game somehow, like they'd known what was coming at the river card.

  But now I could see all their eyes on me. And their buddies' eyes, too. My nostrils flared and my eyes went wide as I glared at each one in turn.

  “Ford,” Samuels said as he leaned forward, still raking in his winnings from the pile, “either buy in, or shut the fuck up. We didn't cheat you or nothing. It's just sometimes the cards ain't in your favor, that's all. Lady Luck ain't with you, buddy. She's going steady with me tonight.”

  “Yeah, Ford,” Alex Gomez added in as he lit his cigarette and leaned back in his chair, adjusting his crossed leg beneath the table. “Either put up or get the fuck out. We still got cards to play here. Besides, you can call us cheats all you want. Everyone up here knows we play a clean game every night, and they'll back us up on that.”

  They'd back them up. I knew exactly what that meant. I threw one punch over them cheating me, true or not, and I’d get fifty guys on my ass, all at the same time. Sure, I was good, but that good? Shit, no one was that good. Not even Mike Tyson could take them odds.

  But still, I raised my fist and pulled it back. If I was going to go down and have nothing to show for it when Tambor came knocking for his money, I might as well have a concussion and some bloody fists to show him.

  “I thought I told you not to play cards here anymore, handsome?” a woman's sweet, melodic voice asked from right next to me. Before I could react, I felt her hand on the small of my back, along with her warmth as she pressed into me and touched my raised arm. She smelled sweet and beautiful, her perfume pushing through the smell of stale beer and cigarettes that filled the air.

  “The fuck?” I asked, looking down and seeing the most beautiful light blue, almond-shaped eyes, and the darkest red hair to ever fall around a face like a halo. Damn, she was gorgeous. Beautiful, even. The kind of woman guys wrote poetry about, the kind they launched ships of war over.

  “And,” she added in a low and husky voice, “I thought we agreed you'd stop kicking so many guy's asses. You promised me you'd stop beating people up in these bars a while ago, didn't you?”

  I was speechless. I just looked down into those beautiful eyes of hers and nodded. “Yep,” I agreed like I was in a dream. “Guess I did.”

  I fell into those smirking eyes of hers that seemed to hide something immense and bottomless. “Now come on and buy me a drink before we go home.”

  I broke our gaze and looked back to the guys. They were all looking back and forth at each other, wondering if they were still going to have to fight me. “This ain't over,” I growled to Samuels.

  “Table's always open, Ford,” he said as he idly shuffled the cards, cutting them over and over without even paying attention to what he was doing. “You know that. Come back when you got your bank a bit fatter, and we'll try not to swindle you outta too much of it.”

  The other men chuckled, but I noticed Gomez let go a sigh of relief as the sweet little thing beside me grabbed my arm and pulled me away, back to the bar.

  “Lose it all?” she asked knowingly as she walked beside me to the counter. “Lady Luck's fickle.”

  I just grimaced and shook my head. But when I looked her up and down in her beautiful white dress, at all the leg she was showing, and all the creamy white cleavage spilling out of her top, I couldn't help but agree. “Yep,” I said. “She sure is.”

  I got the bartender's attention. “Another beer, Rick. Another whatever she's having, too.”

  “Thought you were tapped?” she asked with a smirk.

  I was, more or less. After my time at the table, I had less than fifty bucks to my name. I glanced down at her beside me. “I am,” I admitted. “Have enough for a couple drinks, at least. Rather spend it on two drinks right now than anything else in the world.”

  Laughing, she pressed into my side, sending a little thrill through my body.

  I'd never been a slouch when it came to the ladies. Never had a problem picking them up anywhere I went, even if it was to the grocery store or the gas station or a fancy bar. More than six feet of pure muscle, and a handsome enough face I'd managed to keep from getting completely obliterated in the ring, helped with that.

  But still, I'd never seen a woman this beautiful, or this out of place. She was like a rose in a briar patch here, a bouquet of flowers someone placed in the landfill. She was big city eleven, on a scale of one to ten.

  Rick came back with our drinks. I passed her her Cape Cod, and she slid her empty away. Beer in hand, I turned to her and leaned against the bar. I could feel the eyes on us, on her, furtive glances from about half the men. Probably wondering just what in the hell she was doing with some down-on-his-luck guy like me.

  “What's your name?” I asked after I sucked down a mouthful of beer.

  “Micah.”

  “Pretty,” I said. “Ford. Ford Taylor.”

  She looked up at me through her eyelashes as she took a sip off her drink. Right then, that straw was one of the luckiest damn straws to have ever been in that dive. “Tough name for a tough guy,” she replied.

  “Can't be that tough,” I growled. “One pretty girl was enough to put me out of the fight.”

  She smirked. “Well, Ford. I was wondering. You seem like a nice enough guy, and I did do you a favor back there.” She trailed off, took another sip of her drink, then batted those long lashes of hers at me again.

  I laughed. “Lemme guess. You need a lift outta here, don't you? Your boyfriend leave you or something?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Long story, but not my boyfriend. I didn't exactly know where we were going, and my ride's already gone.”

  “Yep, you do look a little overdressed.” I took another hit off my beer, draining off the last half of it. From the way those guys were looking, this woman might get me into another fight by the end of the night, but this time for completely different reasons. I knew if I even tried to take a piss, I was going to come back to a crowd of assholes trying to chat her up. She was just that kind of woman, wearing that kind of dress, while she was in this kind of shithole bar. “Sure,” I said. “I can give you a ride.”

  Now, whether or not the car would make it, that was another story. But I didn't say it. I figured I could keep pushing my luck on this one as far as it would take me.

  She smiled again around her straw as she sucked down another good piece of her drink. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

  “You know,” I said, just before taking another drink of beer, “I don't think I've ever have actually heard anyone say chivalry is dead, just people saying folks do.”

  She laughed. “No, I guess I haven't, either.”

  We put our half-empty drinks back on the bar and I tossed some cash to Rick. He gave me a nod as he gathered it up. Together, we headed out through the boisterous crowd, the lowlifes parting before us like the sea.

  Micah had been right. Lady Luck was fickle as all fucking hell. But, just then, I felt like she was smiling down on me.

  Chapter Three

  Micah

  We sped do
wn the highway in his old, busted up jalopy of a car. Compared to the fancy sports cars I'd been in lately on my “dates,” this thing was a hunk of trash with wheels. But to me, right then, it might as well have a been a chariot.

  “Thank you again,” I said as we whipped through the desert, the stars spread like heaven's blanket up above us, the moon casting its ivory shadow over the landscape. “I still can't believe I got stranded there like that.”

  “What happened with that anyways? What kind of asshole would leave a pretty thing like you high and dry?”

  I blushed a little and turned away from him.

  I wanted to tell him the truth. I really did. But how do you just come out and tell a guy you're an escort? That you go on dates with old rich men for money, and you occasionally hop in the sack with them? But that you're not a whore, even if your boss is pushing you to become one?

  “That bad, huh?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Not really. It was just a misunderstanding, that's all.”

  He snorted. “One hell of a misunderstanding, you ask me.”

  Just then, the car began to slow, and a bright red light popped up on his dashboard. “Shit,” he muttered, hitting the brakes and pulling the car over to the side of the road as steam began to pour out from underneath the hood. “Goddamn car!”

  “What's wrong?” I asked, my voice a little panicked. “Is everything okay?”

  “Goddamn radiator, that's all,” he said, swearing under his breath as the tires crunched on the shoulder gravel. “Have a coolant leak, I think, and it's been acting up.” He reached beneath the dash and popped the hood with a dull clunk.

  I frowned as I looked out at the nighttime desert. It looked awfully lonesome out here, even if it was a beautiful kind of lonesome.

  He opened the driver’s side door and went to get out.

  “Think we should call a tow truck?” I asked, a little worried we'd be stuck here all night, or end up having to walk all the way to the Mansion.

  With his head sticking in through the open door, he barked a short shot of laughter. “I spent my last wad of cash back there at the table, babe. Nah, we'll just wait it out. Happens every so often; it should be fine. Just need to let it cool down, then I can add some more coolant.”

  “How long will that be, do you think?”

  “Hour or so, I guess. You got somewhere to be?”

  I smirked. “Guess not. All my plans for the evening dried up when I got left at that bar.”

  He laughed and shut the door behind him, going to the front and lifting the hood. Steam billowed up around him as he waved it away.

  I looked out the window and stared up at the sky. Out here, away from all the lights, the stars were a million tiny lamps lighting the world. When I did finally make it to LA, I knew I'd miss this.

  I opened my door and climbed out of the car, the cool desert air chilling my skin and sending goosebumps up and down my bare arms. I closed the door behind me and walked to the back of the car, leaning back against the trunk. I craned my head back as I gazed up at the stars like a little girl, my mouth open in wonder. It really was a beautiful night. Not a cloud in the sky to mar all of creation.

  One of the car doors opened and closed, and gravel crunched behind me as Ford came around to stand beside me. “Here,” he said as he draped a heavy leather coat over my shoulders, “it's cold outside.”

  The smell of leather, old cigars, and general age filled my nose as I snuggled deeper into the heavy coat. “Thanks,” I whispered as he wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

  “Welcome,” he murmured, pulling me into his side. Warm radiated from his body, like it was hotter than the overheated engine. “Do this a lot? Star gazing, I mean?”

  There was something about this man, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. He was strong, tough, a real bruiser. I knew that. But he was soft and tender, too. I idly began to wonder what his hands would feel like on the rest of my body. I leaned my head against his chest. “Thank you again,” I said.

  “Don't mention it,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. “I'd hate to think of what could have happened to you if you stayed in that place.” His hand moved from my shoulders, down to my back, then up again.

  Thoughts of what Daddy had demanded of me went through my mind. A shiver went through my body as I remembered Zeke and his horrible teeth and pockmarks covering his cheeks.

  “Still cold?” he whispered. “We could go sit in the car.”

  I pulled back from his chest and shook my head as I looked up into his hazel eyes. Wow! They were beautiful, the way they seemed to twinkle in the moonlight. Just like two of those stars above us, snatched from the sky. My eyes flickered down to his full lips, and I licked mine slightly.

  It had been so long since I'd actually slept with a man I really wanted to. Not just as a freebie, but as a real, honest-to- goodness moment driven by just attraction and lust. This man was nothing like the occasional businessman I let fuck me. He was different. Hard, tough. A real man.

  He brushed a curl from my face, his big fingers callused and worn. We looked into each other's eyes once more, like we were searching for new lands. He lowered his lips to mine as I went up on my tiptoes to meet him.

  His kiss was hard as his body, intense and urgent as his lips crushed mine, the short stubble on his face brushing my skin wonderfully. He pushed his tongue into my mouth and flicked its tip over mine.

  I groaned as I opened my mouth to him, a sudden need to be fucked welling up inside of me. I wanted this man, and I wanted him now.

  He gathered me in close to his body, his hands running up and down my back, moving down to my butt. He pulled me into him, pressing his growing thickness into my belly. “Damn, you're beautiful,” he groaned as he broke our kiss, his mouth moving down to my neck. “I just want to bend you over the back of my car now and fuck you right here.”

  That was a thought I could get behind. Or rather, in front of. Something about being out here, in the middle of nowhere, with just the stars as our witness, or maybe the occasional passing car, got me going. I tilted my head to the side, my eyes rolling back as his lips found a spot on my neck that might as well have been a mainline right between my legs. I purred as I pushed back into his hands, urging them to grip me tighter.

  He squeezed my cheeks hard, so hard I knew he'd leave little fingertip-shaped bruises on my ass the next day.

  I moaned low as I reached down between us and ran my hand over the front of his tight jeans. He had quite the surprise growing in there, and part of me couldn't wait to see it. The other part? It couldn't wait to feel it! “What's stopping you, cowboy?”

  Ford growled as I stroked him through his jeans, his hands roughly kneading my firm butt. He brought his lips back to mine and kissed me hard again.

  I drew back a little under the force of the kiss, loving how insistent he was. I liked a man who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it. I worked at his belt with both hands, my fingers frantic as they tried to get at him.

  He ran a hand over the front of my dress, his fingers brushing over my nipple through the thin fabric.

  I groaned into his mouth, my body shivering with lust as I unfastened his jeans. I bit his lower lip and sucked it into my mouth.

  Panting, he pulled at a nipple, lightly tweaking it.

  Pleasure and pain coursed through me, and I pushed my breast into his hand, my back arching as I worked his zipper down and slipped my hand inside. “What do we have here?” I whispered in the cool night.

  He turned me around roughly then, lifting the back of my dress.

  I yelped in surprise as I was flipped around like that. I went to twist around, to look at him, but he stopped me.

  “No,” he said, his voice low and full of authority as he pushed up against me from behind. “Hands on the trunk. Now.” His cock, still in his boxer briefs, pressed against me as his other hand continued to lift my skirt.

  I groaned as I did what I wa
s told, my hands pressing firmly into the car's sand-dusted trunk. I pushed back into his hand as it roamed over my naked ass, loving the way his callouses felt on my soft skin. I bit my lip, groaning as I felt him drop to his knees and pull my panties down over my hips and legs, dropping them on the shoulder of the highway.

  He stayed knelt down behind me and pushed my thighs apart. “Keep them spread,” he ordered.

  I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as I felt him between my legs, his hot breath intoxicating in the way it swept over me.

  He ran his hand up and down my inner thigh. “Nice,” he growled. “I love my girls with a little bit of a landing strip.” Then his tongue was lapping at me from behind.