ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE)

ARROGANT BRIT

A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE

–Nikki Wild

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

---

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter
21

epilogue

Special FREE Bonus Novels:

Stepbrother
Fixation (A Dominating Stepbrother Romance)

ILLICIT
BEHAVIOR (A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance)

Protect And Serve

Prologue

Of course
I’d be running late for the most
important banquet of the fucking month.

I scrambled to check myself in the mirror.
The makeup was a thinly veiled hack-job, and my hair was barely kept in line.
Image
was the name of the game,
image
and
proper representation
… but I knew that I didn’t have the time to
prepare myself any better.

At least my makeup covers the
bases.

It wasn’t going to win me any awards.

But I’d leave a good enough impression.

With a slice of toast between my teeth, I
quickly darted down the stairs and hopped in my ancient piece of junk Honda. No
time to be cute and civil now, and I was starving. I could touch up my makeup
at a red light…of which I anticipated there would be several because, you know,
I was running late, and
why the fuck wouldn’t
there be red lights all the way there.

Twisting the keys in the ignition, I listened
as the engine sputtered to life and ignored the obnoxious chime of the check
engine light – the constant death knoll was ritual by now.

Moments later, I was on the road, a cavalcade
of excuses and apologies whirling through my head. I didn’t know what I was
going to say to the others when I arrived.

Forty-five minutes and a minimum of eight red
lights later, I finally pulled to a halt in the parking garage, six floors
above where I needed to be. I raced to the elevator, frantically punched the
button, and rode it down the chasm towards the lobby. It was only halfway down
that I realized I probably could have slipped down the stairs faster.

The Marines’ banquet was already starting by
now, probably. All eyes were going to be on me as soon as I walked in.

Fantastic.

As I stepped out into the lobby, evading eye
contact with absolutely anybody, I marched straight through the doors and to my
people. There they were, standing in procession around our portly, impatient
leader as his furious gaze fell down upon me.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to speak
with one
tardy
Clara Campbell.”

Everyone’s gaze fell on me, and I felt small.

“You’re late,” Arnold told me after pulling
me aside. Even with his whispered tone, I could see the others judging me as
they paraded around the room. “I thought I could count on you to never be late.
Where’s my Clara? I don’t see her here, just this tired,
tardy
young lady.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied truthfully. “It won’t
happen again. Traffic was–”

“
Don’t
let
it happen again,” he cut me off.

I nodded quietly, knowing that there would be
no further discussion. All those half-hearted explanations in my head fell to
the wayside, and I knew that he didn’t care to hear a single syllable.

Arnold cast me one final, judgmental glance
before turning to the others, who collectively pretended to be occupied with
their own devices.

“Very well then. Places, everybody!”

I grabbed a drink tray.

Oh. Wait. You thought I was going to be
in
the banquet, didn’t you?

Nope.

I‘m not the plucky romantic lead in a book,
fawning over my billowing attired and preparing to take the arm of a sexy,
rugged Marine. I wasn’t wearing a nice dress, although I
did
have a fetching black bow tie beneath my collar.

I bitterly adjusted my bow tie and waistcoat.

That’s right.

I’m on the fucking serving staff.

This
was my place in life. My role
was to work in the trenches while other people got the nice, glamorous lives.
Being a banquet server meant working behind the scenes and making sure nobody
saw what was really going on beneath our careful, manufactured smiles and in
hidden corridors around the event rooms.

Spreading crisp, flawless tablecloths over
ancient, folding wooden tables…

Stepping through concealed staff entrances
into dank, filthy hallways, refilling ice pitchers and returning mountains of
discarded plates…

Lining up in an assembly line of servers
around a massive kitchen – marked with years of use and old appliances – to
whisk out huge black trays of carefully plated entrees…

I saw the muck behind the charm.

It was my job to make sure
they
never did.

I’d never be the beautiful princess, or the
intrepid reporter, or the esteemed socialite. I was just Clara – a
working-class server, part of a freelance banquet and bartending crew that
rounded out local hotels, sports games, and catered events. Being anything more
than that just wasn’t the world that was in front of me.

Or so I thought.

Chapter 1

“That’s right,
love
. Just like that. Make my throbbing
knob
swell with pride.”

My strong fingers threaded deeper through her
curly hair. Her full, rounded lips hungrily bobbed up and down on my rigid
scepter. Of course, she couldn’t take it all in, even with her professed lack
of a gag reflex – which we both knew by now had been a complete lie.

They never could.

It occurred to me, as I forced her to suck me
down deeper, that I didn’t quite remember her name. She was just some quick
draw from the club, a pretty face that went red with pleasure the moment she
caught my rich accent. I knew she couldn’t remember my name, either, but she
was going to ask for it again by the end.

They always did.

Even if the English thing didn’t drop their knickers,
the ex-military angle usually pried even the most resilient ankles apart.

The combination?

Killer.

It just so happened that I was also going to
be the predominant heir to the esteemed Carlyle Fortune. Fortunately, I hadn’t
needed to lean on
that one
to drop a
pair of slickened panties just yet, but it always helped speed along the
process.

“Oh baby, come for me,” she moaned,
withdrawing my cock to lap away at the underside. She ran her tongue along it,
cradling my huge balls with one hand and stroking me valiantly with the other.
“Come in my mouth, babe. I know you want to.”

“Wrong.”

She looked up at me, confused.

“When I cum… it’ll be in that trembling pussy
of yours.”

I flipped her backwards on the bed, climbing
atop her body. She shifted around on her back to get comfortable, and I slid
her ankles apart with my own. Within seconds, a condom was torn free from its
wrapper in my teeth, and I slid the snug sheath smugly over my pulsing cock.

“Oh God…” she whispered.

I pressed my lips to her neck. “Quiet now.”

Firmly grasping my latex-wrapped weapon, I
guided it where it needed to go. I knew that her pussy had been ready since the
moment she’d whipped out my huge, throbbing cock.

It was just as I thought.
Drenched.

In one heavy, powerful push, I was already
halfway into her slick chasm. God, she was tight. I mean, they were
always
tight with the caliber that I was
always packing, but it still drove me wild every time.

Well… usually.

The last few months, every last lay had left
me an embittered, hallow husk of a man.
 

Sure, the sex had always been good.

Decent
, at any rate.

But it was just a chemical fix now.

No substance. No empowerment.

She was gliding her hips against mine, rolling
her pelvis along my thick, unyielding tool.

I thought about asking how flexible she was…
but then I just decided to figure that out for myself. With a deft move of my
arms, I’d slipped her ankles up over either shoulder; my strong hands rigidly
clamped around her hamstrings, and I held her in place against me.

“
Oof
,”
she murmured with satisfaction as I dove deeper inside her. With each fast,
massive thrust, my throbbing cock pushed further into her quivering body.

I had grown to hate how mechanical sex had
become for me. At this point, it was essentially just empty stress relief; the
fluid exchange kept me off edge. It was doing real wonders for the rigors of
post-military life, that’s for certain.

Her legs were starting to hurt, so I flipped
her onto all fours and mounted my prize from behind. Grasping a thick handful
of her lush hair as if it were a rein, I controlled my partner from behind as I
passionately rode her ass.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good,” she
half whispered, half groaned. “
Fuuuuck.
I
love your hot cock inside me…”

“It loves being inside you, too,” I murmured
into her ear as I dragged her up by her hair, her hips still locked against
mine. With her lips trembling from the painful pleasure, her back brushed
lightly against my chest. “Do you want to be a good girl and cum for me?”

The stranger nodded, and I tightened my grip
on her hair, digging the fingertips of my free hand deeper into the soft flesh
of her hip. “That’s right. You’re such a good girl, making my cock feel so great…
such a tight little pussy on you, too. You want to cum? Is that what you want
to do?”

She nodded again.

“I don’t think I’m convinced…”

Quickly, I gave her a controlled thrust. Her
sweat-slicked body trembled with pleasure that oozed like the sweetest honey
off of her small, involuntary gasp.

“I wanna to cum,” she murmured.

“Do you now…?”

“Yes please,” she nodded again. “Please make
me cum on your huge cock. I
need
it.”

“You
need
it, do you? Well…” I smiled wickedly, guiding her back down onto her hands
and knees. “What kind of man would I be to turn down such a sexy request like
that…?”

She looked over her shoulder with a
flirtatious little smile, and I began to absolutely
pummel
her pussy from behind, digging the fingers of one hand into
her hip and the other into her shoulder.

“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled. “Ride this fucking
cock, babygirl. Ride it until you can’t fucking take it anymore…”

She braced herself against her headboard as I
ramped up the pressure, hilting myself over and over against her thick hips
until she began to shiver against me.

“Oh god, I’m coming, I’m coming…”

I started fucking her harder now, feeling her
entire body whiplash against me with pleasure until she was an incoherent,
babbling mess… but one still wrapped around my fierce cock.

This was one of the few things I derived
pleasure from anymore. I’d grown to accept that I was pretty much just going
through the motions of my life at this point, at least for the next few years.
But when the Carlyle Fortune was mine and I was free to do whatever I wanted…

I’d sucked it up for eight years and learned
some valuable life skills along the way – along with a
nice
fat stack of change that sat in my bank account, just as a
soft back-up plan.

But it was nice to know that, despite how
stale and robotic the sweet art of
hardcore
fucking
had grown, I could still derive some pleasure from watching and
feeling a woman reduced to convulsions against my body.

She held herself taut as I felt her body
undergo a nice long string of shuddering orgasms. Groaning with eyes tightly
shut and her lips wide open, I watched the young woman ride out every last drop
of pleasure until her strength left her wobbly limbs.

Satisfied that she was done, I kicked things
up to the highest notch, intent of taking my own one-way ticket to Climax
Junction. It was time that I got my
own
quick
fix of brain chemicals.

After all, I’m a gentleman; ladies always
come first.

With a few last bucks against her hips, digging
into her so deeply that I knew the marks would be there days later, I let loose
a great, throbbing burst of milky-white release. Neatly caught within the
condom, I roared with passion and emptied my great, big balls deep inside her
exhausted body.

Just once, I’d love it raw,
I thought to myself.

But I played it safe every time, and I
trusted nobody else… especially not during sex.

A string of heavy pants of air later, I
tugged my cock free of her slickened, satisfied chasm.

“Oh, that was
so good
,” she murmured, slumping down to the mess of sheets and
covers beneath us. “You’re so fucking hot in bed…”

I almost chuckled when I noticed her roll
onto her back to make room for me. Of course, I wasn’t sticking around.

Instead, I stepped up, wandering to her
adjacent bathroom to drop the condom down the drain. After flushing the toilet,
I briefly showered, drying myself quickly and leaving the damp towel on the
counter.

To her apparent confusion when I stepped back
into the room, I didn’t dive into bed to discuss our feelings. Instead, I
merely began to tug on my boxer briefs… followed by my folded slacks and my
button-up, which I was now deftly clasping back together up my chest.

“Wait, where are you going?” My latest lay
asked, glancing up at me sadly. The woman had a distinct layer of
But what about the cuddling?
plastered
all over her face.

Sliding my watch around my wrist, I took a
quick glance at the time. I could still make it.

“Banquet.”

She leaned up from the bed, confused. “You’ve
got a
banquet
to go to? How awesome
is that? Can I come?”

Before I had a chance to answer, she was
leaping up out of the bed, diving into her overflowing closet to rummage up
something. It was almost endearing, maybe, how this latest conquest clumsily
tried to include herself.

“No,” I answered, cutting her off as I
slipped on my shoes and tied the laces. “I’m afraid it’s an exclusive thing…
and besides. This was fun and all, but you’re
definitely
not accompanying me to a banquet. You’re not the right
material for that.”

The girl’s jaw dropped. “You’re a real
asshole.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” I
smiled sardonically as I slipped on my blazer. “But that’s okay. This was fun.
I’d say I’d call you sometime, but… you know.”

With eyes full of venom, she quickly tugged
around in her closet for a shirt and a pair of panties. I wound up being the
quicker dresser, and I was already diving into my shoes and closing the door
behind myself as she prepared to slap the shit out of me.

I heard the door rip open, but I was already
descending the stairs and around the corner.

“Dammit, Dalton!”

I grinned to myself. My latest lay apparently
didn’t want to make a half-naked scene in her apartment complex. Even if she
tossed on a pair of jeans, my power-march was going to keep me out of sight all
the way to my car.

It was only when I kicked on the ignition and
glanced at the time that the warning bell in my head finally went off. I looked
back at my Rolex. I’d failed to notice that it had
stopped
earlier, roughly forty minutes ago… Goddamned old world
technology. I must have forgotten to wind it.

Aw, shit. I’m gonna be late after
all.