Bad Boy Rebel

by Darrel, Skye

  His hand moves faster under my skirt. “I like taking care of you, doll face.”

  I lose my voice as his thumb rolls over my clit and two fingers push into my pussy. They curl against that knot of pleasure under my front wall.

  He knows exactly where my spot is.

  The tension I’d felt all morning lifts from my chest. Even the sting on my elbows and knees fade away, and my legs open wider as heat rises in my belly. I clench around his fingers, feel his knuckles on my folds. I turn to face him, only to be rewarded with a punishing kiss.

  His fingertips make a brushing motion right against my spot. I suck in a breath as my walls convulse, so wet I can smell myself. My scent only turns him more feral. He squeezes the erection through his pants and groans softly.

  “It’s almost noon,” I whine.

  “You’re almost there, Princess. I know you are. Cum for me.”

  “I have a buyer coming tomorrow! I need to prepare.”

  “After you cum for me once.”

  I roll my eyes. Maybe just once.

  “Make it fast,” I snap.

  He pulls his hand out, and before I know it, he’s got me face down in the cushions, my rear in the air, and my dress flipped up to reveal my most intimate parts. Then he bites my right cheek.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re so plump, too soft. I couldn’t resist. What a lush little ass you have. These little pink holes are too pretty.”

  Sharp slaps jiggle my rear.

  Blood rushes to my head. I feel everything more sharply, those firm hands molding the curves of my bottom, that tongue like a whip of lightning between my pussy and anus, teasing the sensitive skin in between. I hear his buckle opening and the sound of his zipper.

  “W-What are you doing?”

  “Stroking my cock,” he grits out.

  He slaps my folds and clit. Each sensation layers on top of another, more and more intense. Wet claps fill the room as I moan into the cushion, my whole body shaking out of control.

  “Spanking your naughty little pussy,” he adds.

  “Asher!”

  Heat blazes through my body.

  I feel his tongue again.

  Pulling my hips higher, he lashes my clit with his tongue.

  I shudder with orgasm and feel a hot squirt shoot out of my clenched pussy. I could die from pleasure. Embarrassment too.

  Asher sighs like he’s the one who came. When he lays me on my back, I see his mouth and jaw wet with my release.

  “I didn’t know you could cum like that, doll face.”

  “That makes two of us! Oh my God.”

  He strokes his huge cock. “Lie back, spread your legs, and hold your ankles for me.”

  I grab my ankles while Asher opens his shirt. His middle is all angles and ridges, toned to perfection, the muscles of his hips ending at that erect cock.

  Stroking himself faster, he parts my lips with his other hand. He dips the tip of his cock to my entrance and groans, coming in pulses that splash my walls.

  I toss my head back, lost in heady feelings I can’t name. I’m about to drop my ankles, but Asher shakes his head sternly.

  “Not yet, Princess. Where are your clean panties?”

  I could slap him. “In my luggage upstairs.”

  He rushes off, belting on his pants, and comes back down with a pair of baby pink panties with a ribbon at the front. Grinning like an animal, he brings my legs together and slips the panties around my ankles and pulls them up. Then he pats my pussy one more time before he lets my skirt down.

  I sit upright, a bit irked.

  There are times when I really feel like his doll. But I take the opportunity to feel over the bumps of his stomach, his skin surprisingly soft over the iron beneath. “You want to dress me now?” I say.

  “Wear those panties with my cum in you,” he says playfully, or not so playfully. “All day.”

  “What if I have to pee?” The fact I can say pee in front of this man tells me how far we’ve come.

  “Then I’ll watch, and when you’re done, I’ll wipe you clean and fill you again.”

  I dig my dingers into the muscles under his ribs. “You’re not watching me pee, weirdo. I have my limits.”

  “You get me crazy, Princess.”

  Understatement of the century. I twirl away and pick up my bag, poking my finger through the tear on the side. “Got needles and thread?”

  He sends me to the basement, where he keeps needles and thread in a toolbox. I patch my bag using a square of gray cloth from one of his favorite work shirts. The patch is an eyesore, but it adds a part of him to my bag, which is nice. A part of him has plugged a hole in my most treasured possession.

  I’m either madly in love or losing my mind.

  Then I glance at his weapon lockers and shiver. Those guns are a part of him too.

  I spend the rest of the day at Gatsby’s empty house, going through every room with a bucket and cleaning spray, wiping off the dust that’s settled over the past week.

  This sprawling Victorian has fifteen rooms paneled in wood. I wonder what kind of furniture had been in each empty room.

  The emptiness reminds me of the spare bedrooms in Asher’s house that once belonged to Pris and Eugene, the rooms I avoid because I can’t shake the feeling of watchful ghosts. No sense of ghosts at Gatsby’s though. His house is plain empty.

  Asher drops by every hour and updates me on our mutual problems. Eli is recovering at Goldilocks, and Cora even answered Asher’s call, though all she said was, “Don’t call again.”

  I tell Asher not to worry, that we’ll go over there and explain the situation. Cora will forgive him. He shakes his head and I know he still blames himself.

  Then he kisses me before he leaves on what he calls a reconnaissance mission to Lucky Cherries. Payback for the mock drive-by this morning. That makes me afraid, but Asher promises he won’t kill anyone, which is only slightly assuring.

  At four in the afternoon, I call the prospective buyers coming tomorrow, a newly retired couple, to confirm their walk-through. They’re the most eager prospects I’ve talked to so far, ready to start their golden years where it’s nice and quiet. They also don’t care about pools.

  I make a mental note to warn them about the casino.

  By late afternoon, Gatsby’s house sparkles. I take a breather on the spiral staircase, thinking over the past weeks. I don’t regret coming to Salma’s Hope, but I’m stuck between two worlds, my own with its normal troubles, and Asher’s world of life and death.

  It’s not a great feeling.

  Asher returns at dusk to find me moping. He sits beside me on the steps, a solid, comforting presence, and he whispers sweet words in my ear. When I feel safe and warm again, he tells me to stand up so he can check my panties.

  What a jerk-off.

  But I hold up my skirt while he has his way with me. Then I tell him to park his butt down and have my way with him.

  “You’re still tense,” he says after we’re both satisfied.

  I wiggle in his lap. “It’s a tense situation.”

  “Let’s take the night off.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’ll make tonight date night,” he says with a smirk.

  After the sun sets, we take a trip into town. I have shorts and a tee on. We drop off my sundress at a dry cleaner’s. It could use a good cleaning after everything we’ve done. We take a stroll along the waterfront, try a sundae at the ice cream parlor Cora visited, and get some groceries for a dinner at home. Another visit to the dry cleaner’s where we pick up my dress. It feels like an ordinary evening, which is a welcome break after this morning.

  He makes a lovely dinner back home.

  Then a bath with scented candles.

  By now he’s hard again of course.

  We climb into bed and he makes me cum with his mouth. I stroke him for a while, thinking to relieve him, but I’m so tired and full, I do a poor job of it, not that I was great to begin with. Asher pul
ls my hand away and tells me this is enough, that we can just stay close like this.

  “I love you,” he says.

  Those three words leave my mouth too.

  * * *

  I wake up the next morning after twelve hours of refreshing sleep. Filled with energy.

  Asher’s propped on an elbow, tracing circles over my nipple with his finger. Are all men like this?

  “Good morning,” he says.

  Thick desire curls through my stomach.

  I jump on him like a wild cat, guiding his cock into me, and I ride my man hard, breasts bouncing as his thumb attacks my clit. Pleasure rocks me in waves. Asher heaves an upthrust that pushes me to another peak. His cum floods my drenched pussy as we grind ourselves to a shuddering stop.

  “Good morning,” I whisper.

  He squeezes my rear with one hand as the other runs up my belly to pinch my nipple. “Making that sale today?” he says with a wink.

  “Think so.”

  “Such a good little princess.”

  I shift my hips with his cock still inside me, and he winces. “Show some respect, mister.”

  Asher’s expression softens. “I respect you. I’m proud of you. Nothing makes me happier than watching you succeed.”

  “I know,” I say hastily. “I’m teasing.”

  “I want you to hear me say it anyway. You’re stronger than you know.”

  Great, now he’s gonna make me cry. “Not as strong as you.”

  “Yes. You are. Your strength is different, but it’s no less.”

  My hands push up his solid chest. “You’re just saying that.”

  “I mean it.”

  No hint of a white lie in his eyes. “Thanks.”

  He grins with his teeth. “I also like fucking you. You’re a naughty little girl with a greedy little pussy, and you’re fucking perfect. You’ll always be my doll face.”

  “Asher!”

  We spend a few more minutes in bed, and afterward, I feel like I can take on the whole wide world. Or sell a house.

  My high lasts through our shower. It lasts into breakfast when Asher kisses my shoulder nonstop and Hansel jumps out of nowhere to beg for a piece of bacon. The high lasts until my phone rings, and it’s one of the buyers, Mrs. Novak.

  “Hi, Natalie. About our walk-through this morning—”

  “Did you get lost?” I have to curb the excitement in my voice, but getting lost is a real worry. The highway exit for Salma’s Hope is easy to miss.

  Her silence tells me it’s not that.

  “Is there a problem?” I say.

  She asks me if I have a real estate license. Of course I do. I’ve been licensed for two years. I’m also a member of the National Association of Realtors, I tell her in a rush, I’m perfectly qualified—

  “Natalie, I received a most disturbing phone call this morning from Liam Branigan. He says your license has been suspended, and you’re not authorized to sell anything. I couldn’t believe it. But I looked you up with the Real Estate Commission, and so it says. You were suspended for unethical behavior last week.”

  My stomach sinks. “Unethical behavior?”

  “Two parties filed complaints again you, Natalie. One says you lied about a pool? The other says you canceled an appointment without notice. Your boss, Mr. Branigan, cited those complaints when he petitioned for your suspension. The petition also states you encouraged a friend of yours to assault him.”

  “He what?”

  “That’s what the Commission told us.”

  “Mrs. Novak, there’s a misunderstanding . . .” And my voice breaks, because I already know there is no misunderstanding.

  This is Branigan’s revenge.

  25

  Every Kitten Needs Her Wolf

  Asher

  I learned in the Army there are ways to inflict pain without harming the body. Natalie is hurting now. She shirks when I touch her arm.

  “Problem?” I say like a fucking idiot.

  “Branigan got my license suspended.”

  That prick is hurting Natalie because I humiliated him, and though I blame myself for being rash that day at Goldilocks, I blame him more for laying his hands on my girl. I blame him for making her life a living hell.

  “Anything you can do?” I say.

  “I can appeal,” she says in a hollow voice. “I can . . .”

  “Fight it,” I say.

  “I’m done, Asher. It’s over. I can’t do anything without my license.” She sags in her chair and drops her phone on the table.

  I’ve never seen her so crushed. “Call your boss,” I say, kneeling at her side. “Let me talk to him.”

  “You’ll make it worse,” she whispers.

  “I won’t, Natalie. I’ll try to make peace with him.”

  She hesitates, then dials his number and puts the phone on speaker.

  We reach a secretary, who says Branigan is in a meeting. I give my name and tell the secretary to ask for him, and after a few seconds of putting us on hold, she says his meeting has ended and he’ll take our call.

  “Natalie,” Branigan says lightly. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Mr. Branigan,” I say. “It’s me.”

  “Asher Wade! I forget—was it the cousin or the sister you’re sensitive about?”

  “How’s your throat?”

  Branigan mumbles something inaudible before he regains his cheery tone. “We’ll discuss my throat later. How may I help you, Ms. Whipple?”

  I struggle to keep my anger in check, but I do it for Natalie. I put my hand on her back and she sits a little straighter, some of that old fire back in her eyes.

  “Let’s cut the crap,” she says. “How do I get my license back?”

  Branigan excuses himself, says he’ll have our call transferred to a private line. No doubt he wants this private.

  His voice returns after a minute. “I always liked you. Treated you nice, favored you. I would’ve made you a big star at Branigan Realty, but you didn’t appreciate how nice I was being, that was your flaw.”

  If Natalie has a flaw it sure the hell isn’t that. I lower my mouth to the phone. “Listen, Branigan. You and I had a dispute when you came to town. That’s on me. She had nothing to do with it. You got a problem you talk to me.”

  “Don’t worry, Wade. I’ll do more than talk. You’ll pay for what you did.”

  “Let’s work it out,” I say. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

  “I don’t need your apologies,” Branigan hisses.

  “What do you want then? Money?”

  He splutters. “Money? Do you have any idea, any fucking idea at all, what my net worth is? Do you, Wade? I don’t need your money!”

  I can’t seem to speak with this man without offending his ego. “Tell me how I can make things right. Whatever I gotta do for Natalie to get her license back.” The words taste like broken glass in my mouth, but I say them for her.

  “Nothing you can do. That little bitch is not fit to be a real estate agent, simple as that.”

  Natalie balls her hands on the table and stays silent.

  My jaw tightens. “Does your buddy Oscar feel the same way?”

  “Oscar McNamara works for me,” Branigan says. “As a matter of fact, he will testify against you on my behalf.”

  “Testify for what?”

  “You assaulted me, Wade. That’s a crime. I’ve pressed charges and the court has issued a warrant for your arrest, based in no small part on Oscar’s eyewitness affidavit. You’re going to jail and I’ll be there when it happens.”

  I grunt. “Your warrant won’t hold up once Juno tells the police what she saw.”

  “You tried to touch me first,” Natalie adds. “Asher was protecting me.”

  Branigan makes a choking noise. “We’ll let the judge decide, just wait and see. And Natalie, afterward I may be convinced to return you to my good graces, if you beg nicely.”

  He hangs up.

  I look at my girl, about to
comfort her when she lunges up and screams. “That fucking asshole!”

  That’s the spirit, Princess.

  “I’ll testify for you, Asher.”

  “He’s a bully, Natalie. That’s all.” Last time I checked we’re still in America, and no judge would indict me once they learn the facts. But Branigan doesn’t need a judge to destroy Natalie’s career.

  She yells out a few more choice words before she sits again.

  I kiss her hair. “We’ll be fine, doll face.”

  “This is the last thing we need.”

  That’s true.

  She looks up. “Let’s go to Goldilocks.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Might as well do something productive. We can find out what Eli knows about the casino, about Maral Swann.” Her face sets. “Screw Branigan.”

  She looks ready to fight. It’s a sexy look. All her looks are sexy, but this one is new.

  “What?” she says.

  “You remind me of a kitten with her claws out.”

  “If I’m a kitten you’re a wolf.” She licks her lips. “A big bad wolf.”

  I sit her on the table, standing between her legs, the energy in her body flowing into mine, and my dick starts to throb.

  Pouting, she unzips my jeans and grabs my cock, and I’m instantly hard, grinding my teeth as she strokes me.

  I hitch up her skirt, pushing her panties to the side. My eyes linger on the wet lips of her pussy.

  Natalie lets go of my cock and parts the pretty slit between her thighs with two fingers. Her sweet scent wafts to my nose. “Branigan wants this, Asher. He wants what belongs to you.”

  My cock nearly splits along the seam. I grab her by the ass cheeks and press my erection to her pussy, every muscle in my body coiling tight. The primal instinct to possess her overwhelms my senses. I thrust hard as her arms clamp around my neck, her slick flesh sheathing me to the base.

  “No one will take you away from me,” I growl, pumping my cock in her sopping cunt. “No one will touch what’s mine.”

  I lift my girl off the table and push her against the wall, fucking her body higher, balls slapping her skin with the force of my thrusts, hips slamming between her thighs. She grabs through my hair. Her legs wrap around my waist. I pound her tight pussy while I suck at her throat, her chin, her mouth that screams out her pleasure.