The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance (23 page)

Tori

5 Years Later

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGorjBVag0I

I
n the silence we stand.  There is no denying we want each other, an inferno of lust lights our eyes, even the air crackles between us. I smile nervously as Cash begins to walk towards me, all alpha and broodingly sexy. My heart hammers like any of his thousands of adoring screaming female fans. Then his breath is a delicious hot breeze on my neck as he fists my hair and walks me backwards and up against the coldness of the wall.

I always come to him after he has performed. He’s always the same. So high with adrenaline that it infects me too, and we tear at each other in a wild frenzy. I watch him, my heart beating with the thunder of desire, as the sweat drips off him. Wetness seeps through my panties, and my nipples pebble as his muscular body presses me tighter to the wall. 

He grabs me possessively, rips my dress open, and cups my breasts together. Then his glorious mouth descends and he sucks hard at my nipples, sending crazy sensations coursing through all my nerve ends. I crave him like an addict.

He flicks his tongue from nipple to nipple, teasing and biting until I’m lost in sensual madness I barely feel his hand move my soaked panties to the side. My head rocks back with pure pleasure as he slips his fingers deep inside me.

‘Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,’ he growls.

‘I can’t wait anymore,’ I cry. It’s a wild sound.

He hoists me up and holds my throbbing sex over the tip of his erect shaft, and watches me shudder when our flesh touches before he drives his cock into my depths. 

I grip his broad shoulders and look into eyes full of fiery passion. I feel his strong hot hands clasp my ass cheeks and bury his cock balls deep inside me. I close my eyes and throw my head back in sheer ecstasy. I can hear his heartbeat and the wet sound of our flesh slapping until my head starts swirling. I dig my fingernails into his skin. My body is in the grip of the most intensely deep orgasm. 

'Oh, my God, I'm coming,’ I scream. 

I feel his whole body stiffen and his rhythm increases dramatically.

'Me too, babe.' 

I'm holding him so tight as I feel his cock jolt inside me and then throb uncontrollably inside my sex, I'm surprised that he can still hold me up let alone continue to pile drive into my grasping channel.  But he just slams that cock in and out until every drop of cum has been drained from it. When he's finally finished I lean back and look into his satisfied face. 

'That was fucking awesome, Mr. Hunter.'

‘That's what I fucking love about you, Mrs. Hunter.' 

'Yeah, and what's that?' 

‘You ain't like any of the other girls.'

I roll my eyes. 'Well you've known enough!'  

'That’s right, baby. I’ve met tens of thousands and not one of them can hold a candle to you.'
His tongue traces my neck slowly and sensually. His cock is still inside me, pulsing and throbbing.

My hand splays on his chest. ‘I want to tell you a secret.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Go on then.’

I bite my lip. ‘You know that room next to our bedroom that we never use. I think we’ll need it in about … say … nine months’ time.’

He stares at me incredulously. ‘What? When? How?’

‘When, I just answered, how, you know how, and what? I don’t know yet. I hope it’s a boy, though.’ I grin. ‘He can protect his younger sister.’

He takes a breath so shaky I hear it tremble through his chest. He looks at me with wonderment. ‘We’ll have to buy baby formula,’ he says in a hushed voice.

I start to laugh. ‘Oh, Cash. I love you so, so, so much.’

The End

Hey Romance Lover,

If you are lusting for a bad boy like Cash Hunter, there’s not much we can do, but if you found yourself licking your lips over Cora Bennet’s luscious scones, then here’s the recipe. :) They will be good the day after baking, but are best straight from the oven.

SCONES

Makes
8 large wedges

INGREDIENTS

• 500g plain flour

• 65g caster sugar

• 2 tbsp baking powder

• 130g cold butter, cut into cubes

• 420ml double cream, plus a little more for brushing on scones

• 1 large egg

METHOD

Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6.

Flour a 23cm cake tin and line a baking sheet with baking parchment.

Sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder and half a teaspoon of salt. Add the butter and rub it in with your fingertips until the mixture is crumbly with little pea-sized bits of flour-coated butter.

Lightly beat the cream and egg together in a small jug. Make a well in the centre of the flour and gradually add the cream, mixing it in with a butter knife.

Mix just until everything comes together – don’t over mix. The dough will be quite sticky.

Put this into the floured cake tin and carefully pat the dough evenly into place. Turn the dough out on to a lightly floured surface and cut the round into eight equal wedges.

Put these on the baking sheet. Brush with the extra double cream.

Transfer to the oven and cook for about 30 minutes. The scones should be golden brown. Leave to cool for five minutes then serve warm.

These are actually still good two days later (well, not quite as good, but they don’t deteriorate the way other scones do – just keep them in an airtight container).

http://bit.ly/29e9CjD

Perfect Strawberry Jam

Makes 4 x 200ml jars

INGREDIENTS

2kg small ripe strawberries

1.7kg jam sugar

Juice of 2 lemons

METHOD

1. Hull the strawberries and discard any rotten ones. Set aside about 10 of the smallest berries, and then mash the rest up into a rough pulp. Put into a wide, thick-bottomed pan, add the sugar and the lemon juice, and bring to the boil. Add the remaining strawberries to the pan, and put a saucer in the freezer.

2. Boil the jam for about 15 minutes, stirring regularly checking the setting point every minute or so during the last 5 minutes. To do this, take the cold saucer out of the freezer, put a little jam on it, and put it back in to cool for a minute. If it wrinkles when you push it with your finger, then it's done. Strawberry jam is unlikely to set very solid though, so don't expect the same results as you would with a marmalade.

3. Take off the heat and skim off the pink scum. Pour into sterilised jars and cover with a disc of waxed paper, seal and store.

http://bit.ly/29hFkCg

Coming on the 19
th
of August …

Noah Abramovich

“Boys will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats,

and women must not expect miracles.”

                                                    - Little Women
, 1869

T
asha
Evanoff! Blonde, blue eyes, plump mouth, and skin so white, it is almost blue, until summer comes, then, it turns wheat-gold.

What the fuck is
she
doing at the door of my office.

For a
fraction of a second I actually think I must be dreaming. How can I not be? In that frozen instant I hear babushka’s throaty old voice again.

‘Listen carefully to me, Noah. The moment a newborn baby emerges into the harsh light of this world it loses its magic. It adjusts and plays the game of life, but the powerful desire for the return of its magic never goes away. The urge sits beyond the reach of memory and waits, because sometimes if a man is very, very lucky his magic will cross paths with him again.’

Tasha Evanoff is my magic.  

Not a living soul knows this, but I have secretly lusted after her for years. I forced my eyes not to follow around her father’s magnificent living rooms, or stare at her beautiful bikini-clad body lying on the sun lounger by the pool because I knew our worlds were never meant to collide.

Today she has wandered unbidden into mine.

Closing the door she leans seductively
against it her sexual energy radiating across the room. She is dressed exactly the way I expect the daughter of an obscenely rich and corrupt man to dress. A flawlessly cut, knee-length white dress teamed with a soft-pink cardigan, and low heeled, round-toed, immaculately white pumps. Her only adornments are a subtle string of dusky white pearls grazing her throat and velvet black clips holding her shining curtain of shoulder-length hair back from her face.  

The intention behind her choice of attire is obviously not erotic. Virginal even, but the sexual tension coming from her fizzes between us like a bottle of shaken champagne. It puts my nerves on high alert.

I stand.

‘Hello, Noah,’ she drawls. Her father is a Russian bastard, but her mother comes from British blue-blood stock and her accent is pure upper class.

‘Why are you here, Tasha?’ I ask.  My body is taut and hormones are buzzing all over the place, but my voice comes out flat and devoid of all expression.

‘Surely, you’re going to allow me to sit first,’ she says with a hint of irritation.

‘Of course,’ I say, waving towards the chairs opposite my desk.

 She walks towards the chair on the left, slips into it and puts her knees firmly together. Her eyes are beautiful blue stars, the pupils, dark pits of nothing.  

Would you like a drink?’ I offer politely.

‘Thank you, no,’ she refuses, then she thinks better of it. ‘Actually, yes, I will have one.’

‘What can I get you?’

Her gaze flickers over me. ‘Um … cognac if you have it.’ And after a slight pause. ‘Make it a double.’

I walk to the bar and feel her eyes burning into my back as I automatically pull glasses from the cabinet. My mind is churning. I grab the cognac bottle and uncap it. One thing is for sure: She didn’t happen to be in the neighborhood.

I tilt the bottle and pour out a generous measure.

I try to think why she is here and I cannot imagine any reason she could possibly have for coming to my office at this time of the night. I wipe the frown from my forehead and turn around. Casually, I walk up to her and hold out the drink.

She lets her fingers brush mine as she takes it. Of course, they are as befits the pampered daughter of a dangerous man, silky soft.

‘Aren’t you having one?’ she asks, one eyebrow arched.

‘No.’ My voice sounds thick and strange.

‘Oh,’ she exclaims, gazing up at me.

It’s like looking down at an angel or an apparition. It has a hypnotizing almost paralyzing effect on me, probably because I’ve never been this close to her before. I struggle with the crazy urge to grab her and devour her sulky mouth.

Jesus! I need to put something between us. I walk around my desk and sit down. Silently, I watch her drain the glass. The way her white throat moves as she swallows, the movement so erotic my cock stirs. She clasps the empty glass loosely in her lap and looks at it. The silence stretches between us.

Odd. Tight. Strained.

But I hold my tongue. Let her break it.

Finally, she looks up. ‘I’m … getting … married in six months,’ she says quietly. 

I already knew that little fact, Tasha.
You’re marrying the good-for-nothing son of a psychopathic billionaire.
I

t’s a marriage brokered in hell by her fat fuck father, a thoroughly ugly and detestable man. If he knew she was here it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Blood on the floor would be the least of it.

I say nothing and she fixes me with those unnerving eyes of hers.

‘Well, anyway, I thought that before I settle down I’d like to try life a little.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I can’t fucking believe she’s going where I think she’s going.

‘Yeah. I want you to have sex with me tonight,’ she says very quickly into the tense air.

My entire body reacts to her words. My heart hammers in my chest and blood races so fast into my cock it hurts, but years of training keeps my face poker straight. Until today she has never even so much as looked in my direction and now she wants me to fuck her. Something’s not right. I steeple my hands on the table.

‘You might need to explain yourself a little bit more.’

She gives a one-shoulder shrug, a careless, elegant, infuriating movement. ‘What’s to explain? I want us to … fuck.’ The princess had to struggle to get that last word out.

‘Why?’

‘Because … because I want to be … taken by someone like you.’

Like me.
 Now, I get it. The spoilt, bored rich girl is going to become the spoilt bored wife of a spineless fool, but before she submits to that endless boredom she wants to experience something dirty, with someone from the wrong end of town.

The princess wants to be a slut for one night. And the person she has chosen is me. I lean back in my chair and let my eyes roll all over her. Well, well, well. All that untouchable beauty just laid out for me to spoil and dishonor.

‘What makes you think I want one night with you?’

Her smooth brow crinkles. ‘Don’t all men want a no strings, dirty night with a perfect stranger?’

I stare at her. This is what happens when you shelter your daughter to death.

She mistakes my silence for reluctance. As if any man in his right man would refuse her. Swallowing hard she straightens her spine as steely determination sparkles in her eyes. She has, after all, come from her father’s loins.

‘There will be no consequences to you. No one will ever know. After tonight we will probably never meet again, and even if we do it will be as if this night never happened.’

‘Where does your father think you are now?’

She licks
those lips that I want to bite. ‘In my bed. Asleep.’

As if my lustful thought has transferred to her, her white teeth sink into her bottom lip. I inhale sharply. Pure lust is a powerful, bewitching thing. I have always detested weak people whose only excuse for doing things they shouldn’t is: 

It was the moment. I simply couldn’t help myself.
 

In that instant I get what they are talking about. Every cell in my body is screaming at me not to take the poisoned chalice, but as if she has cast a spell on me, I stand up, walk around the desk like a zombie, and hold out my hand.

She wants dirty sex.

I know 
all
 about that.

Sure I’ll give her a night so dirty her toes will curl. I’ll make it so unforgettable in years to come while her husband’s half-flaccid dick labors inside her she will close her eyes and remember my cock thrusting inside her.

A glimmer of a smile appears on her lips. She puts her hand in mine, I tug at it, and she allows herself to tumble against my body. Her body is softly curving and immediately molds itself into the hardness of mine. Her perfume rises up and fills my nostrils. I breathe it in. It’s been a long time, in fact, I can’t remember the last time a woman could disarm me in this way. 
But she only wants dirty sex with you. She is yours only tonight.

‘Are you wet?’ I whisper harshly.

She shakes her head, her eyes huge.

My eyebrows rise. ‘You sure about that?’

‘Yes,’ she says defiantly.

Without warning I grab her round ass and stick my other hand under her chase dress. She struggles, but I tighten my hold, making her efforts puny and useless. Her eyes flash as my hand touches her bare pussy. My, My, she didn’t even wear panties! I plunge two fingers into her cunt. She gasps and goes rigid.

‘Then …’ I extract my fingers from inside her. ‘What the fuck is this?’ I ask softly as I wipe my fingers on her downy cheek.

Her amazing eyes flash.

I bend my head and lick her cheek where I smeared her slick juices. She tastes like musky honey. Unforgettable. I already know I’ll miss her taste when she leaves in the early morning hours. Deeply inhaling the scent of her I force my tongue into her mouth. At first she doesn’t do anything, and then she starts to suck it.
Fuck it
,
this woman drives me crazy. I withdraw my tongue and look at her. My cock is straining against the zipper of my jeans.

‘You’re never going to have another night like this so no more coy games and no more lies tonight, understood?
’

She nods silently.

‘Are you wet?’

‘Yes.’

‘How wet?’

‘Dripping,’ she says hoarsely.

I smile faintly. ‘Will you do anything I ask tonight?’

‘Yes. Anything.’