So Bad for Me: Bad Boy Forbidden Love Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  I can barely believe what I feel happening between my legs, either. I’m feeling tight and hot. Like I might actually be finding this interesting, the surroundings to my liking. This is a fact that my military upbringing squeals and cries against, but that only succeeds in making me even more hot and tight.

  We are shown to our seats as I have that realization, and it’s not long before the same scantily-clad waitress takes our orders for drinks.

  Within seconds of her disappearing, we are approached by a tall, sinfully-gorgeous woman. Think Marilyn Monroe, but with slightly longer hair. She smiles generously at us, particularly paying attention to me.

  “Glad to have you with us tonight, ladies. I am Lady White, the owner of this slice of paradise. But please do be aware.” Long, dark eyelashes size me up. “If you’re going to stay, ladies, if you desire to be our guests, you will need to participate in tonight’s festivities. Not just giggle or gawk.”

  And this is when I feel something worse than panic. The need to make a nervous, stress-related trip to the bathroom.

  Chapter 3

  Jake

  You know what they say about novelty: it only works so long as you don’t beat it to the ground, so long as you don’t OD. And me? I’ve OD’ed on Lady White and her house of pleasures, Club Lush, much too often lately.

  But what else is a man of my age to do with my ridiculous amounts of money? The fact that the stock markets have been good to me, a farm boy from Idaho who knew nothing about finances?

  When money and women come to you as easily as they do me, you find yourself getting into habits, even when you know you’re bored of them, even when you know you want more, you can’t get out of your rut. Not even if you want to, like I do. Desperately.

  I’m at the bar, watching the women without a partner in the club tonight. I’m watching their body language, their cues for just the right amount of submissiveness.

  As I drink down my shot of scotch, I know that none of them are going to do it for me. Not even the “baby girls” — the most submissive of the submissive types, those aren’t going to do it for me. Not tonight, probably not ever.

  I like to dominate. I like to have a woman who does what I say, how I say, when I say. But I want more than just a woman who can follow orders. I want one who trusts me to do right by her, and to guide her into a world of freedom, despite being under my control— I want a woman who’s truly new.

  I need someone truly virginal in her experience. Who doesn’t just know how to act innocent or unsure, but really, truly is.

  Just thinking about a woman like that — a pretty young thing who values honesty over manipulation, and wants to play for fun, not just to game — that makes me hot and heavy. Hungry and restless, but also disenchanted.

  After coming here every night for the past couple months, and not finding a woman like that among the regular clubgoers, or the rare guests, I’m beginning to lose hope of that ever being a reality.

  I finish off my drink, waving away the bartender when she asks me if I want another. “No, no thank you, Katie. That will do for me.”

  I push myself out of my leaning position against the bar, and pay my tab.

  No amount of drinking is going to make up for the fact that I don’t have a proper sub. No amount of carousing is going to make up for the fact that I’m bored, lonely and irritated with such typical selection.

  I pay with cash, not card.

  Billionaires like me (though I’m self-made) tend to prefer paper over plastic, especially in clubs like these.

  As I turn to get away from the bar, and maybe even get out of the club, I see her. A young woman trailing a whole group of them. By the looks of surprise and interest on most of the female faces in this new group, it’s clear to me that they’ve stumbled in here.

  They’ve taken a trip down into this rabbit hole by accident, but are enjoying the ride. But the woman I’m interested in, the one at the back (or trying to be), she looks like a doe in the headlights. She looks like a sweet little kitten, afraid of being drowned.

  Her friends are having to practically drag her after the waitress. As I tell the bartender to keep the change, I can’t help it: I chuckle at the young woman’s distress. At the look of pure terror she has on her face.

  But, along with the terror, I also see something else. Something I know she feels and fears: interest. Intrigue about what’s going on around her, even as it frightens and disturbs her.

  As their waitress shows them to a table, I slink closer. I watch my doe-eyed girl. I enjoy the brightness of her blue eyes against her flushed cheeks. How her long, bright blonde hair frames her face like a platinum heart.

  I chuckle again, feeling my body and crotch warming. Even without hearing a word from her mouth, I’m imagining how soft and trembling her voice is. I’m imagining how small and soft her body would feel against mine. How breathy and light her lips would be on mine. On my cock, or anywhere else I told her to put them.

  Unconsciously, I bring my hand down to my crotch. Push the eager boy down, telling him to behave himself.

  What a treat, I muse. What a tender, gentle soul she is.

  I watch her large, liquid eyes fight a losing battle between keeping them pinned in her lap, and scanning her surroundings.

  She had no idea what kind of place this was when she walked in. She thinks she doesn’t want to be in a place like this, but she’s enjoying it. She doesn’t want to. She thinks she’s too innocent and “daddy’s little girl” for that — watching her fidget and wiggle in her seat screams that little bit of information at me— you’re interested. You’re intrigued. I’d love to be able to whet that appetite. I think I just might, if you stay around after Lady White gives you the rundown.

  Chapter 4

  Jake

  Lady White is exactly who’s just approached the girls’ table to introduce herself to them. As she is telling them that if they wish to stay, they will have to participate in the club’s activities, I decide to draw closer. Not close enough to draw attention to myself, but close enough to overhear the conversation — especially the responses of my cute, shy one.

  One of the girls asks, “What kind of activities?” She pauses, then adds, “Sexual, obviously, but what exactly do you have to participate in?”

  “You could be someone’s pet,” answers Lady White. “You could be someone’s toy.”

  She pauses, gesturing to an area where people are strapped to walls, and there are tables full of gadgets waiting to be used on them.

  “You could even be someone’s prisoner, if that kind of thing suits you. Either way, you will be required to serve and submit to the members already present, until you become members, or you show yourselves to be competent in more dominant roles.”

  Nearly all of the other girls express some level of interest and willingness about all of this. But my little shy one, she looks even more lost and panicked by the prospect. She murmurs something about “being new to all this, and not knowing anything about any of this” before excusing herself.

  She does so politely, getting up from her seat and heading somewhere. Until she remembers that she doesn’t know her way around, and has to ask Lady White for directions. She’s squirming adorably.

  “Um, I’m sorry, Lady White, but where is the bathroom?”

  “Back that way and to the left, doll,” she says, and quickly turns her attention back to the rest of the girls.

  And I turn my attention back to my shy little darling. I know how it might look to some, even in this club, but I want to see what else she has to say when no one else is around. I want to have a moment with her, all to myself.

  So, I track her to the women’s bathroom. Stealthily, of course.

  As I do, I hear my shy one murmur helplessly, “Why oh why did I end up here? I’ve never even kissed anybody before!”

  She hurries to the bathroom, but I’m not sure whether she’s going there because she needs to use it, or just cry. “I’ve never dated anybody, and
I’m in a place like this!” With that, she darts into the restroom, and I follow in after her.

  The moment I’m in the bathroom, and I know the door has closed without anyone seeing me shadow her, I grab her by the wrist and push her into the wall. I move her so her back is spread sexily against the cool tile, as I spread her arms up above her head and kiss her.

  Fear and confusion. That’s what I see a light on her beautiful, delicately carved face when I first grab a hold of her. That fear and confusion deepens as I press her to the wall, but as I lean in to kiss her, press my lips on hers, the fear and confusion fade slightly, revealing desire. Lust for me and this situation, despite feeling and seeing every part of her body quaking and fighting with instincts. The instinct to run, to protect herself from me.

  In the beginning, my shy one fights me— the feeling of my lips on her— but that only makes this situation more intriguing, more satisfactory to me. The fact that she’s fighting, when I saw the smallest spark of lust, that urges me forward. Encourages me to keep kissing her, grabbing her soft lips with mine.

  The softness of those lips, the way they tremble ever so slightly in between the pockets of warmth and saliva, that makes me hard. In seconds, I’m beyond just a little aroused. I’m thick and heavy, and pressing into her stomach a little.

  As the pressure in my kiss deepens, and I feel her feeling my closeness, she relaxes. Relents under my hold and attention, as if she’s not only realized it’s pointless to fight against me, but more importantly, that there’s no reason to.

  She knows that, somehow, despite the situation, I’m safe. I’m noble, despite stealing her first kiss from her like a common thief. And that idea — that I’ve taken something so precious from her as a first kiss — that makes me want to have her more. Take more kisses, and more precious things. Like her virginity, which I know is also there, struggling and relenting against me.

  But for now, I take my lips from her. I want to watch her come to terms with what I’ve just done. I want to hear her as she catches her breath. I want to savor those first draws of air, the way her face changes. The way the excitement might play across her features.

  With my lips off of her, it takes my shy one a moment to respond. To catch her breath, and to wrap her head around what has just happened. Who I am, and why I have just taken her that way.

  When she does speak, she stammers out exactly what I would expect a woman of her limited life experience to.

  “Who are you?”

  “That is for you to find out in a moment,” I say gently, “but for now, let me tell you who you are, Miss. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, a woman who is grateful and happy that it is me stealing her first kiss, even though she doesn’t know it yet.”

  I’ve leaned in close to her again, unable to get enough of her sweet, bubbly scent.

  In that moment, though, my shy one surprises me. Just as I’m contemplating whether I’m going to kiss her again so soon after releasing her, she leans forward and kisses me.

  It’s lightning fast. It’s unsure and a little clumsy, but in it I sense the desire and fire I saw on her face. It smolders on her lips like smeared wax. She quickly retreats, trying to squish herself against the wall and away from me.

  “I’m sorry. That was out of line. And anyway, I’m not beau—”

  I don’t want her to say that word, so I silence it with a kiss. With a firmer, more commanding one, being sure to push my rock-hard cock into her belly. For emphasis, and also as my impromptu stamp of approval.

  “You are beautiful,” I say, pulling my lips off her, but leaving my cock where it is against her belly. Like a sexy, no-nonsense pistol. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be having this effect on me.”

  As I speak, I bring one of her hands gently down off the wall, and toward the dark front of my slacks.

  “A very rare thing indeed,” I add, pressing her timid fingers in and around my bulge. “Which is why I will make you mine.”

  I sigh into these words, feeling my shy one timidly touch me, and then begin to squeeze my length.

  Good girl, I think and lean in.

  Chapter 5

  Melissa

  At first, I don’t know what to do.

  One second, I’m retreating into the bathroom to relieve myself of both nerves and the feeling that I should’ve never let my longtime friends plan a twenty-first birthday celebration for me.

  The next, I’m grabbed and pinned against a wall there. And by a strange, handsome, older man. A man I’ve never seen before, but realize as he leans in to kiss me, that I might enjoy seeing every day for the rest of my life.

  He has the most dazzling blue eyes and dark hair I’ve ever seen. A square, rugged jaw, and soft but commanding lips. Lips I quickly find myself prisoner to, no matter the instincts that have started to kick up and around me.

  Though a part of me is fascinated and drawn in by him, his faint taste of scotch and sugary sharp cologne. Another more ancient, biological part is afraid. Unconsciously, uncontrollably I fight him as he kisses me. I struggle and squirm a little, feeling his lips on mine. In my head, I’m not sure what’s going on, or what’s about to happen.

  Briefly, I see myself being ravaged by him. Undressed and forcibly taken, and some part of me fears this. But another part, a secret and hidden side, enjoys the idea. It hungers for being taken that strongly and commandingly.

  I’d never had a boyfriend before. And all the other men who had shown interest in me, they were far too gentlemanly and reserved to do something like this. To take what they wanted from me, and put me in a position like this.

  The weight of the mysterious man’s lips increases. They grow warm and more urgent, and again my body subconsciously fights him. It struggles against this situation, even as my brain and heart race from it. Even as I feel my panties growing wet and hot, I feel my body wiggle and shake under his mouth.

  He lets me up for air, but only after I relax into him. Only after my body submits to him, and my midriff feels the slightest light of his firm, silky slacks against it, does he let me breathe and ask the one question burning across my mind.

  I ask him who he is, but my mysterious man doesn’t answer. Instead, he tells me who I am. He says that I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and I draw away from him.

  Me being beautiful is not something I’m ready to accept. Being raised in a household like I was, one’s own beauty wasn’t considered attention worthy. And worst of all, it was considered egotistical and impolite to focus too much attention on such physical, skin deep things.

  So, I do as I was raised to: I deny what he’s told me, but only after doing something my upbringing would also frown upon. Reaching up and kissing him!

  Of course, immediately afterwards, I apologize for my forward, unwanted attention. Never mind that this man has done that and more to me. As an older gentleman, he has a position of power over me. Authority. Rank, as my father would say.

  But not me. I’m not in the position that he is, so I apologize and move further into the wall.

  He kisses me before I can say I’m not beautiful, and proceeds to move one of my hands down off the wall and toward the front of him. He moves me toward his hard, demanding member, and as he forces my fingers near and around him, I find myself enjoying being told what to do. Controlled wordlessly into touching him places I would never have given myself permission to go otherwise.

  In a matter of blissful, uninhibited moments, I’ve gone from lightly, hesitantly stroking him to actually gripping his member through his slacks. Soon I’m squeezing and stroking his large, heavy cock through the fabric, feeling excited and terrified by the size.

  I lick my lips. It’s as much from the nervous, dry quality to my mouth, as it is from a blooming hunger in my belly. The same belly he was poking with his huge cock a moment ago.

  I continue stroking it, imagining what it would look like laid bare. I imagine its length and girth, wondering what it would feel like to have it in my mou
th. I shiver, imagining that it’s now found its way lower. Into my pussy.

  My stomach flips. Along my fingers, I feel his cock fattening even more.

  Could I even fit it all inside? Or would it bust me open?

  While the thought is frightening, curiosity gets the better of me. I wouldn’t mind finding out for myself. Even being a virgin, even knowing that it might hurt even more, I’m still intrigued by the idea.

  I’m also intrigued by his nearness, the weight of his body on mine. He’s leaned in closer to me, thanks to my undivided attention.

  “I don’t even know you,” I whisper at him as I continue my work obediently.

  I will make you mine.

  That proclamation of his lances across my brain and heart. As it does, I feel a small but fierce jolt of electricity. Like something coming open or awake.

  Why and how can he feel about me that way? And when we just met? I’m not really that beautiful or…

  As if he’s once again sensed the turn of my thoughts, my mystery man answers me.

  “I’m Jake,” he murmurs, leaning into me as I continue to stroke and fondle him. “But you can call me Sir.”

  I’m already feeling my wetness. I had been moments before this, but as his deep and commanding voice floods over my ears, and he tells me to address him that way, I’m soaked. I’m also without any reason or desire to object.

  “What’s your name? I’d like to know what to call the woman I’m going to make mine.” He leans in closer, presses his lips—and his stiff cock—against me. “Especially since it’s her twenty-first birthday.”

  I suck in a breath, looking at him.

  “How did you know that?”

  He just smiles like everything about him is made of satin.