Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance (37 page)

She grabbed his ass and felt fires igniting all over her. Her mound was squeezed in her wet panties against the uncoiling bulge in his jeans. Her clit buzzed hot and raw in the friction. She pulled hard at his ass, and her body stretched up along his. She wanted to feel his skin. She wanted her hands on his flesh. She wanted him on her. In her.

She ached to taste him. To feel him part her and plunge into her. Her lips and her tongue wanted to feel his hot, hardening cock. The cock that pressed at her through her tiny leather skirt. Her skirt that was riding up. His thick, hard thigh wedged in between hers. The denim grazed soft flesh above her stockings. She gripped him with her thighs. The heat of his cock rubbed against the swollen hood of her clit.

His hands were on her breasts. Cupping them, squeezing them, teasing and kneading them through her black lacy bra. He slipped the straps down off her shoulders then licked and sucked at her heaving breasts, slipping his hands into the cups to circle and roll her stinging hard nipples. She unsnapped the bra and let it drop. His lips and his tongue were on her nipples, suckling and pulling them. As he sucked on one, he tweaked and stretched the other with his fingers. Gypsy’s breath caught in her throat and her heart thumped in her heaving chest.

Her desperate pussy ached to get out of her wet panties and along the hard evil curve of Hacker’s hot cock. It rubbed against his jeans, making her moan and quiver with excitement and pent-up passion. The nub of her clit sawed out under its swollen hood and it twanged and stung from wanting.
 

His hand slid over her stomach. Down her leather skirt. Then up inside it. She bit on his shoulder, grazed his chest with her teeth. She growled into his neck as his hands slipped past all of her remaining clothes. She moaned as his fingers found her weeping flower, dripping hot with need. She said through a growl, “Hacker, whatever of your clothes you don’t want me to touch, will you please fucking take them off. I want you.”

Hanging naked, upside down with her thighs on Hacker’s shoulders, his tongue buried itself in her puss, his lips pressed hard against her petals. Her throat hugged the length of his cock and her mouth slewed along the length of it as she sucked him deep and brought him to another climax.

The Cutter

The Norwegians were getting to be a lot of trouble and a lot of cost. Supplies at the bar were depleted and everyone was getting tired of having them around. The girls were all showing bruises or worse, and they were all saying that they had doctor’s appointments or they needed to visit distant relatives.

Bogart tried to persuade Angelica and Inez to entertain the Scandinavians but his heart wasn’t in it. Angelica said, “You kidding me American.” She looked in his eye. “Jurgen, Bent, I don’t mind them.” But she knew that neither of them was part of the problem that Bogart was trying to solve.

She was firm as she said, “One of those other two comes near me, they going to find out what testicles taste like when they been pre-chewed.”

Bogart, Cox and Hacker took it to the table. Closed session.

Nobody liked it, but nobody had a better idea. The Norwegians needed their money,
Savage
needed the Norwegians paid and gone and
Savage MC
’s credibility was at stake.

Harsh enforcement was the only quick route that anybody could think of. Relations with the Placid PD wouldn’t take much more strain right now and, even with Alderman Greaves in their pocket,
Savage MC
needed better public relations not worse. A gang war between
Savage
and
Los Muertos
wouldn’t be any help at all.

The vote was taken, Bogart and Hacker went to find Butcher.

Machine Head
 

When I first met Cox he rode up out of nowhere, a knight on a black Harley, come to rescue me.

Daddy’s good little girl was what I was always supposed to be, and that’s exactly what I was. Up until I discovered all the fun that Daddy’s bad little girl could have. That’s when I began to figure out that the bad boys had the keys to the funhouse.

Have you any idea what you can get away with in a small town like Placid, CA, when your Daddy is the police chief and he won’t ever believe one bad word about you? Daddy the police chief, his baby girl the cheerleader, voted
Most Popular
and
Miss Congeniality
. I don’t know how many popularity contests I won in high school and it took me years to work out that it wasn’t because everyone liked me. Almost no one liked me. They were all afraid of me. They were afraid of what I could get away with. They were afraid also of what might happen if I turned my Daddy on them, and that was something that I could do with the crook of my finger.

Dwayne was a lazy punk car mechanic. Jacked cars, held up a liquor store, my kind of a man. And he sold some crack. Gave me crack. I hated it. I like the feeling of getting messed up on bourbon, it leaves me feeling loose and in control at the same time. I love the mellow hit from a fresh Californian or Oregon weed. I love that almost in the way that Daddy and his stupid friends get all wanky over the wines from the other side of those same western hills.
 

But smoking crack? Get out of my face. I can get fucked up, wired and stupid all in one hit? Like John Fogerty said, it ain’t me. I did it to try it but I told Dwayne,
Thanks, but no thanks
.

For Dwayne that’s a red rag. That was the first time he hit me. Like, really hit me, I mean. Left a mark. I wanted to kill him. I swore I would never breathe the same stinking air as him again. Somewhere deep inside me, the shock and the pain lit a powerful fuse, but I knew that wasn’t something to share with Dwayne. His pathetic little wooden room shook when I yanked the door open.

He just sneered at me with that look on his face that said,
You’ll be back, Baby Doll
. I stamped out of there with that angry red splash across my cheek and when I slammed the door behind me I heard a small, satisfying sound of breaking glass.

When Daddy saw the red mark, it made him so angry I thought he’d explode. He told me his house, his rules, I told him,
I’m nineteen, Daddy, my LIFE, my rules.
Then I realized that I wanted Dwayne again.
 

We were out by the edge of town, looking down over the miserable little Friday night light show, not much different from any other night, just with a few more flashing blue lights. I thought,
There’s Daddy’s men, keeping all the good people safe from themselves
.
 

Dwayne was high on crack, of course. Wanted to fuck right there by the side of the road, with the town spread out below us. There was hardly any traffic, so I couldn’t see much point. Still, he’d grabbed my tits, got my shirt open, my bra unhooked. Sucked on my nipples. I loved the way that he held my breasts. Grabbed them, squeezed them hard. Needy. Almost desperate. Sometimes he shook.

Then rubbing the bulge in his pants against my short denim skirt. The skirt rode up, and his jeans scraped against my sheer panties. They were so wet by then I could smell them, and my hips were rocking hard against him whether I wanted them to or not, scraping up and down along the line of that bulge.

His hands were on my breasts, on my neck, pulling on my shoulders. I knew what he’d want. His little baby doll cheerleader, kneeling on the rough ground, gravel ripping and laddering my expensive hold-ups. My big blonde tresses bobbing, knelt in front of him for all the world to see, while my hot, wet mouth and the top of my supple throat worked a wonder on his telegraph pole of a cock.
 

Couldn’t take that away from Dwayne, the man had a prodigious portion, a massive mast of manhood. He had one of the hugest fucking cocks that I ever in my life attempted to swallow.

I got to my knees and my weight pressed into the roadside shale. By then I had learned something about finding sources of pain and relishing them inwardly, secretly. This was something that I wanted badly to explore and experience with a partner, but I wouldn’t trust the partner that I had, so it had to be just me and me for the time being. It worked.

Then he hauled that great trunk out of his pants in front of my face, and the heat and the musty scent of him made my head spin. His hands plunged into the back of my hair and I twisted my head away. He loved to feel that I was resisting, like he was forcing me. He pulled, I pulled, all the while I let my hot breaths fan against his cock. I let him feel the edges of my teeth. He got bigger and harder with each breath.

Then he got my lips pressed against it and they popped apart as I let him push it in. My hands grabbed the hard globes of his ass as his hard ridges slid through my lips, over my tongue, down to the back of my throat.

I gripped through his soft cotton sweats into the crease between the clenching cheeks of his ass as he humped his hard hammer into my throat. Saliva cascaded sweet and gooey into my mouth and dribbled around my lips in the cold night air. The sweet wetness dribbled out as he sawed in and out of my hot mouth. Drips fell onto the tops of my bouncing breasts as Dwayne shoved deeper and harder into me.

Dwayne fucked my face, faster and deeper and I thought he was losing it, but it was probably just the crack. He dragged me up and said he wanted to ‘bust my ass.’ He loved that phrase. He loved what it meant, too. Now he wanted to bend me over the hood of his old car, or over a rock, and ream my ass right out in plain view, probably hoping one of my Daddy’s deputies would come by.

Only, at that point I’d had it with Dwayne. If he’d sucked on my pussy maybe, or even just finger-fucked me with some hint of consideration but no, Dwayne wants to bang yo ass, bitch. I told him he could wank himself off, go find a whore or we could both sit back and enjoy the show watching his balls change color.

He took a swing at me and I sidestepped. As he swung back I blundered into his fist. He caught me off balance and hit my cheek hard. I fell to the ground, landed on my elbows.
 

A very big, very dull black motorcycle swept up the hill and came thumping up, and stopped right behind Dwayne.

The biker’s voice was hard and firm, “Game over.” He stayed on the bike, the motor still thumping. Dwayne whirled around and yelled at him,