Trademarked: Bad Boys Need Love Too

by Misti Murphy

  Parker Kent is my boyfriend and lover. I smile as I sit cross-legged on the bed. Muscles I never knew I had protest, but it’s a nice ache. A deep, thorough reminder of what we did last night. I still can’t believe he fit all that in me.

  Pulling the sheet loose, my gaze wanders his chest. He’s so strong and those muscles are insane. I tug a little further and follow the lines from his hips to his cock. Yup, it’s half-erect and it’s still freaking huge.

  “Hello, super cock,” I say to his penis. It’s not weird or anything; after all, he’s talked to my vagina and my boobs. “You were amazing last night.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Parker

  I wake up to Bree’s face in my crotch. She’s petting my morning wood like it’s a puppy. “You’re really not that scary, you know. I’ll admit, with a name like Pussy Assassin I thought you were going to hurt me, but you’re actually very sweet.”

  She gives the head a kiss, and I have to stifle my groan as my cock throbs.

  “What was Parker thinking when he called you that, anyway? Couldn’t he have come up with something more... positive? You and I should change it, don’t you think? Super Cock, or Mister Cocky.”

  “Babe, what are you doing?”

  She startles and takes her hand away. “Uh. I was having a conversation with your, uh, penis.”

  “I heard.” I grasp her hand and put it back on my erection. Feels too good with it there. “What were the two of you discussing?”

  She grips my shaft and runs her hand up and down. Heat ripples through me, waking me all the way up. I could get used to this.

  “Why on earth would you nickname him Pussy Assassin?”

  I laugh, and my cock jumps in her hand. “Actually, I didn’t.”

  “No?”

  “That was Dutch. When we were in high school. It kind of stuck.”

  “So you decided to trademark it?” She narrows her gaze on me, her forehead drawn tight. “What are you going to do if some other big dicked guy starts calling his penis the Pussy Assassin?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug. “It was a joke. That’s all. Dutch and I had a few too many shots and we decided it would be hilarious, with all the talk about my dick at the time, to trademark it. I was drunk when I filed the paperwork. Popped the first name I could think of on it, which was Pussy Assassin, and forgot about it. Until I got the papers that said it had been approved.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup. That’s the story. It wasn’t some megalomaniac move. We were just drunk.”

  “And having me insure it?” she asks.

  “That wasn’t a... fuck.” I groan as I roll my gaze to the ceiling, bucking my hips to her tight fist. Her hand feels so good around my cock. “It wasn’t a joke.”

  “It isn’t?”

  I don’t know how she expects me to concentrate on anything but the way she’s stroking my, er, ego, but if that’s what she wants I’m going to do my best to give it to her. “The producer for the movie I wrapped up a few months ago suggested it, and my agent thought it was sage advice considering, at the moment, my bad boy persona is the reason I’m getting opportunities I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Whether I like it or not, that’s attached to my dick. He’s the reason I’m getting jobs that I love and have money in the bank. It’s no different than Julia Roberts insuring her smile or T-Swift insuring her legs. At this point in time if something were to happen with...”

  “Super Cock,” she suggests, and I don’t mind that at all.

  “I could lose all traction. Opportunities could dry up. I’d be screwed. Fame, even in small amounts is a fickle thing.” I groan as I push into her hand that’s lubricated with my pre-cum.

  “It makes sense.” Her breathing has picked up, and she licks her lips.

  “You’re turned on, aren’t you?” I slide my hand between her thighs and find her wet for me. “You want more of my cock?”

  She nods as she shifts to her knees, keeping them wide so that I can slide a finger inside her. “I’d tell you to come ride me, but I don’t have any more condoms on me.”

  “I got the shot, you know, the Depo, weeks ago when I thought I might... I was too, uh, distracted to tell you that last night.”

  “You sure?” I don’t want her to have any regrets with this stuff, but fuck, the idea of her riding me without a rubber makes my balls tight.

  “Yeah.” She pushes me onto my back and straddles my hips.

  “Well come on then, cowgirl.” I grip the root of my shaft so that she can climb on. “Saddle up.”

  She sinks down on me slowly. Her tight cunt is perfection. A velvet glove custom made for my cock. She’s so hot and wet on my bare flesh, I have to grit my teeth and fight my cock’s immediate need to fill her with my cum. Squeezing her thighs, she strokes my shaft with her inner walls. Little cries escape her parted lips as she rolls her hips.

  Watching her ride me is incredible, her hair mussed and tumbling down her back, her green eyes shuttered behind thick lashes. The insane heat of her is shutting down my brain and making my heart race.

  “Fuck, babe. You’re killing me with your tight cunt and your bouncy tits. You feel so good on my cock.” I grip her hips, taking control and speeding up our rhythm, pushing her toward an orgasm. I’m barely able to contain my own, my balls are drawn so tight already. “Tell me you’re close, tell me you wanna come.”

  “I wanna come.” She moans, her hands landing on my chest, her head dropping forward on a sob.

  “That’s all I needed to hear.” I can see where our bodies join, see the way her cunt grips and takes my cock all the way to the root. Such a fucking hot sight. I slide a finger between us and start rubbing her clit.

  “Parker,” she cries out, as her inner walls start to tighten around me. “I’m coeeeee.”

  “Fuck, you feel good, coming on my cock, Bree.”

  “Super Cock,” she screams. “I love your super cock.”

  Can’t hold on any longer. My cock spasms and spurts hot jets of cum. I’m light-headed, and lighthearted. Bree collapses on top of me, and I wrap my arms around her, breathe in her sexy scent and tip her head up so I can kiss her. “You love my super cock, huh?”

  She blushes. “I admit nothing.”

  “Fine,” I tell her. I won’t admit that I’m almost certainly head over heels for her. “I can wait. It’s only a matter of time before my super cock makes you orgasm again. At some point you’ll repeat that declaration.”

  “I would never.” She pushes her mussed hair out of her face and makes the most adorable wide eyes at me, like she’s completely innocent of what we both know to be true.

  I push her onto her back and lick inside her mouth before sucking her bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m going to get up. My girlfriend needs her coffee and some pancakes. You enjoy sleeping in.”

  “You remember this is my apartment, right?” She laughs. “There’s nothing so fancy as pancakes here.”

  “True, but there’s a café two blocks away.” I pull on my shorts and stretch my T-shirt over my head. She pouts when my abs disappear behind a wall of cotton. I push my feet into my shoes and yank my cap over my hair. “I’ll be right back. Chocolate chip or blueberry?”

  “Chocolate chip,” she calls after me. I swear I hear her scream into her pillow that she loves my super cock as I shut the door behind me.

  Yeah, babe, he loves you too.

  ***

  “Where are we going?” she asks again.

  “On a date.” I squeeze her knee below the hem of her stretchy pink skirt as I pull into a parking lot. She’s been picking for clues since I told her I had plans for us this afternoon that included getting dressed and leaving the apartment. The almost twenty-four hours we spent locked up in our cozy sex den has been incredible, but I want more than that with her. I want to take her out and show her off, and I want to finally give her the date that she deserves.

  “You told me that before we left the apartment.” She pouts. “I want to kno
w what this date entails.”

  “It’s a surprise.” I pat her leg before sliding out of the car to open her door.

  “I’m not sure I like surprises. Or dates for that matter.”

  “You’re going to love this one,” I tell her, taking her hand and pulling her along. We better hurry or we’ll be late.

  “Or you could tell me what we’re doing, and I could make my own mind up.”

  She hurries to keep up with my longer strides as I search for the right building. I squeeze her hand when I spot the pink sign out front on the pavement. This is perfect for us. It’s going to be so much fun. “Nope. Sorry. You’re going to have to wait and see.”

  “Ugh. Why do we have to go on a date now? We could go home and hang out on the couch. Order Chinese food from downstairs,” she wheedles, before upping the ante. “Have sex.”

  “Tempting. But no.” I smirk. “It’s about time we had an official date.”

  “Because last time we tried it went so well.” She rolls her eyes and blushes. “I was a hot drunk, cough syrupy mess.”

  “This will be different.” I put my hand on her lower back, as I pull her in between me and the rose-colored sign.

  “Give me some sugar?” she asks.

  “We’re taking a class. A cookie decorating class.”

  “That’s—”

  “An awesome date?” I hold open the door for her.

  “It really is,” she says, stepping into the huge room.

  A young woman, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, bustles about the bright and cheery work area. Stainless steel workbenches hold an assortment of cookie decorating tools. She stops when she notices us and hurries over to greet us. “Hello. I’m Melody. You must be Muffy Johnson and...” She stutters to a halt, obviously struggling with the fact that she’s worked out who I am, and the fake name I gave her when I booked our places in the class.

  “Nutsy Handcock.” I reach out and shake her hand. Bree can barely hold it together, a snort giggle escaping her.

  “Okay.” The woman looks like she’s choking on her tongue. Her eyes bug out a little and her lips move silently as she reconciles who I am with my ridiculous fake identity. She peels her hand from mine and takes a breath as she wipes her palm on her apron and nods. “Nutsy and Muffy, we’ll start in about five minutes. Feel free to browse or take a seat while you wait.”

  “Thank you,” Bree says before Melody leaves us to finish setting up the workshop.

  We wander between the shelves at the front to check out the baking tools, and sprinkles, and food dyes. “How’d you come up with this?”

  I rap my temple. “I’ve got cookies on the brain these days. Chocolate chip. Peanut butter. Yours.”

  “And the names? What were they again? Muffy...”

  “Muffy Johnson and Nutsy Handcock. You probably better remember them in case she calls on us.”

  “I can’t believe you named us after body parts.” Bree giggles as the door opens and a couple of teens walk in. They gawk at me and start whispering behind their hands, but they don’t come over. Hopefully the rest of our classmates will do the same.

  A mother with eight-year-old twin girls blows into the store as Melody re-appears, a frilled peach apron on. The mother talks to the teacher for a few moments, then kisses the girls’ cheeks and races out.

  Melody addresses us, “It looks like we have a few stragglers today, but why don’t you all get set up. Find a work bench, settle in, and we’ll get started in a couple of minutes.”

  ***

  “These cookies are awesome,” I mumble around a mouthful. We’ve been going at this for thirty minutes and I barely have any cookies decorated. “You’re so much better at this decorating thing though.”

  “That’s because you keep eating them.” Bree grins, smoothing pink icing onto a cookie. “If you stopped putting them in your mouth, you might be good at it too.”

  “Nah. I’m much better at eating the cookie,” I say. She blushes. Wicked woman and her dirty mind. “Why decorate when I can nibble and suck and bite on the cookie? Have that sweet taste on my tongue and feel it crumble for me. I could eat the cookie all day, every day.”

  I should have really checked the age range on this class. One of the teens glances at me over her shoulder and blushes furiously. I give her a grin and a wink, and she whips her gaze back to her workbench.

  “Don’t be mean.” Bree slaps my arm.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You were. Women, and she’s just a kid, don’t know how to handle you when you look at them like that.”

  “You do.”

  “T-that’s different. Remember, I used to not like you.”

  “And now you do.” I steal one of her cookies and pop it into my mouth. “You like me a lot.”

  “Nutsy, Muffy, how are you going with your cookies?” Melody asks in the same singsong voice she’s used on the kids and teens we’re sharing a class with. “Any difficulties?”

  “Yes. My cookies keep disappearing. Every time I go to decorate one it’s gone before I can start. I think one of the other students is stealing them.” I give her puppy dog eyes.

  Melody flutters her hand to her chest. “Yes, well, let me see what I can do. I might have some more cookies in the back.”

  Bree punches me in the arm as she talks to Melody. “The only reason he doesn’t have any cookies is because he’s eaten them all.”

  “Oh, okay. I see.” She walks past me to check out Bree’s cookies that are drying on a metal sheet. “It looks like you’re doing a good job, Muffy.” She picks up one of Bree’s cookies. “Is this a mushroom? It’s very creative.”

  “Um.” Bree purses her lips, scarlet blooming from the tips of her hair to her chest. “That-That’s, um...”

  Fucking hell, the cookie looks like my cock. I mean like an exact replica of my cock. It’s even got tiny purple veins. Except it’s also got a creepy little face and what appears to be an effort at a red cape. She made a cookie super cock. “It’s one of those rare ones from Hawaii, isn’t it, Muffy?” I cover for her. “Those mushrooms that stink like something died.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. That’s exactly what it is.” Bree struggles to get the words out.

  “No, it’s not,” one of the twins says, pushing her braid back over her shoulder. “That’s a penis.”

  “Quiet, Lilly.” The other twin shoves her elbow into the first’s side. “Momma says we’re not allowed to say bad words.”

  “It’s a penis,” Lilly insists. “And penises aren’t bad, Poppy. I saw Lachie Howell’s penis. He showed it to me right after gym class.”

  “Oh.” Poppy giggles behind her hands. “What did it look like?”

  Lilly sticks out her tongue. “Kind of funny.”

  “Okay, I think that’s enough, you two.” Melody drops the phallic cookie back onto Bree’s tray and moves toward the kids, arms splayed like she’s herding geese. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve done with your cookies?”

  “I made a flower,” Poppy says, her little body puffed up with pride.

  “I know who you are.” Lilly stares at me. “You’re Parker Kent. My Momma says you’re a bad, bad man. And good girls wouldn’t have anything to do with you.” She points at Bree. “You’re not a good girl.”

  “Maybe we should get out of here,” I whisper to Bree without taking my gaze off the little blonde imp. This cookie class is going south in a hurry.

  “Uh-huh. Good idea.” Bree grabs the cardboard carrier from under the bench and starts putting her cookies in it.

  “You make my Momma cry, bad man.” Lilly adds. “When she’s in her bedroom alone, she sobs and says your name. “Parker. Oh. Parker. You’re so bad, you wicked man.”

  I’ve been tasered. Someone stuck electrodes to my nipples when I wasn’t looking and shot me full of electricity. My muscles are twitching and I’m pretty sure my jaw is bruised from hitting the floor, but all I can do is stare at the little goblin.

  “Okay, you two.
” Melody comes toward us, anger flaring in her gaze. “You need to leave. You need to leave right now.”

  “Yes. So sorry.” Bree grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door. “We’re going. Sorry, again.”

  We’re standing on the pavement and the door shuts in my face before I can so much as blink. “What the fuck just happened?” I pace across to the gutter, before turning back to Bree. “Did an eight-year-old really do an impression of her mother fantasizing about me?”

  “Yep.” Bree clutches the carry box, her shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

  “Fuck.” I’m perverting innocent minds now? What the fuck is wrong with people that they let their kids hear that?

  “Oh, come on,” Bree says. “It isn’t so bad. She didn’t know what she was saying. She had no idea.”

  I scratch the back of my neck. “Do you think?”

  “I’m sure of it. Which is why it’s so damn funny.” She dissolves into giggles. The cookie box lands on the pavement as she doubles over, her eyes shiny.

  I start to grin. Can’t help it. Bree’s laughter is infectious. “Okay, maybe it is funny.”

  “Can we go home?” she asks once she gets herself under control.

  “Absolutely. In fact, from now on I think staying in is our safest option.” I pick up the box, and we make our way to the car.

  “I like that,” she says. “It means I get you all to myself.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bree

  “What’s going on with the traffic this evening?” Parker leans forward to get a better view out the windshield as the cars in front of us slow to a crawl. “Is that...? I think there’s been an accident.”

  It’s been weeks since the last one. I’d almost forgotten about Parker Kent’s ability to be a nuisance. Not the man I’m sitting next to though, he’s not irritating at all. His billboard. That monstrous roadway terror has most likely struck again. And here I had faith that people would get over his gorgeous smile and his super cock.