Big Bad Boys: A Romance Collection

by Wylder, Penny

  My jaw drops. “I’m sorry, that’s…”

  “It was shitty, but you know what, it turned out fine. I didn’t want to hurt my parents any more, so I swore I’d change jobs. Find another way to put myself through school. I nearly had enough money saved up for my full degree anyway. I tried to pull my info from the site, but they have a contract, annual policy.” He sighs and rolls his eyes. “They made me leave up my details until the year is out. But it was up to me to decide whether I wanted to accept any job offers I got in the meantime. I didn’t. Not since this whole thing blew up. I’ve ignored every booking request I’ve gotten… Until yours.”

  “Why mine?” My voice comes out a whisper. I’m too scared to raise it. Too scared this moment will shatter, turn out to be a dream.

  Caleb leans closer, his mouth inches from mine. “I had to see you. I had to know if you were as bold and sexy as you sounded in that message.” He shakes his head, eyes still fixed on mine. “I can’t explain it, it’s… I’ve never met a woman so confident about what she wants, so open and forthright about what she enjoys.” He smirks a little. “And, it didn’t hurt that you’re every inch as kinky as I am.”

  I laugh, eyes still locked.

  “I was too weak to resist you, Carmine. I had to see you. Find out if you were as filthy hot in person.” He tilts his head forward until his forehead comes to rest against mine. “And damn, you did not disappoint. You’re everything I imagined and more.” He cups my cheek, and I tilt my face toward his. His lips find mine, a slow, searing kiss that I feel all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.

  When we break apart, it’s hard to catch my breath.

  “That’s the real reason I never charged you,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to be escort and client. I want to be more. I really, really like you, Carmine, and…” His eyes search mine for a long moment. “I want you. All of you.”

  This time, when his lips crash into mine again, I let myself fall into the kiss. I twine my hand through his hair, part my lips, trace his tongue with mine.

  We kiss until we hear Beth in the backyard, shouting for the kids to come cut the cake. Then we break apart, breathless, and clasp hands again, grinning.

  “We can sneak out if you want,” he says.

  But I shake my head. I know what this means to him. “Fuck those bitchy neighbors,” I reply, lifting my head high. “Let’s go show them what a real happy couple looks like.”

  He laughs, and I elbow his side gently.

  “Besides,” I point out, “we need to taste how our masterpiece of a cake turned out.”

  8

  After the birthday party, Caleb drives me back to my place. On the way, I cave and check my phone, asking Lara about the bakery. But she sends back a happy, smiling selfie with Jen and Carl—they finished all the orders on time. No stress necessary.

  That lets me relax when we finally pull into my driveway. Which is lucky, because as soon as I turn to face Caleb, neither of us can keep our hands off one another long enough to park the car, let alone stumble up the steps toward the bedroom. We leave a trail of clothing in our wake—my shirt on the bottom of the steps, my bra somewhere near the top, his pants on the landing, his shirt looped over my bedroom door.

  “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he murmurs as he kisses his way down the side of my neck, still walking me backwards toward the bed, our arms locked around each other. I’m down to just my thong now, and I know that won’t last long. Not with Caleb completely naked before me.

  “I want to taste your sexy fucking cock again.” I lean back and kiss down his chest, but he stops me. Tilts my head back to smirk down at me.

  “You will,” he promises. “Tomorrow morning when I get you on your knees in the shower.”

  I shiver at the thought of that. But at the same time, I lift my eyebrows in response. “Oh really? And what do you have on our schedule instead tonight, Mr. Dirty Boy?”

  “Don’t you worry, Dirty Girl. It’s a surprise.” He pins me against the wall and kisses down to my chest, sucking one nipple into his mouth and gently swirling his tongue around it. It hardens at his touch, and my other nipple does too as he drops a hand to massage my other breast. “Spread your legs,” he says, then nips at my breast again, just hard enough to make me gasp.

  I spread my legs and shiver as he runs a hand up my inner thigh, the warm skin of his calloused hand grazing the edge of my thong, already growing wet.

  I lean into him, but he presses me back against the wall with a smirk. “So impatient,” he remarks.

  “What can I say?” I lift an eyebrow. “You make me hungry for more.”

  “You’ll get your fill.” He grasps my hands, pulls them up over my head and pins them against the wall. Using his free hand, he reaches for my drawer of goodies beside us.

  “Promises, promises,” I say.

  That makes him pause in his search and grab my waist again, pulling my body against his as he leans down, his lips just a scarce inch away from mine. “Don’t believe I can fill you up? You’ve had my cock inside you. Not to mention down your throat. Wasn’t that enough for you, Dirty Girl?”

  “I can never get enough of you,” I respond, my voice low and throaty.

  He laughs softly. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  I hear a soft clinking sound. Metal. I realize what it is just before he clamps them around my wrists. Handcuffs. He hooks the chain between the cuffs over a coat hook on my wall, leaving me with my arms pinned over my head and my legs spread wide before him while he turns to rummage in my drawer again.

  “You like to tie your girls up?” I ask with a sly grin.

  “I do when they’re mine,” he says. His eyes when they catch mine again could burn straight through my skin, that look is so hot. “And you’re all mine now, Carmine.”

  When I see what he’s pulling out of the drawer next, I bite my lip with nerves. I haven’t actually had the nerve to try these yet—I got them in that sex toy of the month club, but never actually put them to use.

  He weighs the two vibrators, attached by a long cord, in his palms. They're small, almost like my bullet, sleek and smooth and designed to hit just the right spots. Plural.

  Caleb grins and tests the length of the cord. "Hmm. Shall we test your limits yet again?" he murmurs, that sly grin never leaving his face.

  "’Shall we?’" I smirk. "So British of you, Caleb."

  He steps closer and runs his hand up my arms. "Are you complaining?"

  "Of course not. That accent's the reason I started falling for you." I answer without thinking about it, automatically.

  I immediately clamp my mouth shut, wishing I could take it back. But Caleb leans in close, his mouth just an inch from mine, that infuriating, addictive grin still fixed on his lips.

  "Falling for me, huh?" he murmurs.

  "Only the accent," I reply, defiant. My voice comes out a whisper.

  "Mm. Understandable." He brushes his lips across mine, feather-light. "Because I'm definitely falling for your dirty mouth, Carmine."

  "Just my mouth?" I smirk.

  He kisses me again, harder. Longer. "Maybe more than just your mouth." His hand slides between my legs, and I gasp softly at the cool press of the vibrator cupped in his palm.

  I arch toward him, straining against the cuffs that keep my arms pinned over my head. "Fuck, Caleb," I gasp.

  "I love driving you wild." He kisses along my neck as he circles the vibrator against my pussy lips, not yet turning it on. The smooth metal warms as he continues to roll it across my skin. "And I love how fucking kinky you are..."

  "I love that you indulge all my fantasies." I tilt my head, try to catch him in a kiss again, but he's already licking my nipple in a slow, teasing circle.

  "Don't forget the fantasies you haven't thought of yet," he murmurs. Then he presses the tip of the vibrator against my pussy. With a flick of his thumb, he turns it on, and I gasp and twist my hips as the vibration sends a shock through my nerves, my belly tigh
tening.

  “Oh, I never forget a promise like that, Dirty Boy.”

  He smirks. “Good.” With that, he presses the vibrator an inch into my pussy. I gasp as my lips part to admit it, the vibrations making me twist against the wall. He pins me in place with one hand and pushes it farther into me, until it’s hovering right over my G-spot. I gasp and moan, the intensity making my whole body quiver. But just when it’s becoming too much, he shuts it off again, and I cry out faintly in protest at the sudden lack.

  I don’t have long to complain. A moment later, he’s reaching for the other end of the long cord, and smoothing a handful of lube over the head of the second vibrator. When I realize what he plans to do, my eyes widen.

  “Never tried this one, Dirty Girl?” he asks. He presses the second vibe, a small egg-shaped one, against the tight pucker of my ass.

  “You did find a fantasy I hadn’t thought up,” I admit. Then I gasp, forgetting about our banter, as he presses the vibrator into me, an inch at a time. I moan aloud at the pleasant, tight stretching sensation. When the egg finally pops into my ass, Caleb flicks it back on, both vibrators going now, and I can hardly catch my breath, the sensation is so intense. My toes curl and my mouth falls open, my hands clenching and unclenching around the cuffs.

  But Caleb isn’t done with me yet.

  He spins me around and presses me against the wall. I feel the tip of his cock rest against my ass, and I turn to catch his eye, breathing hard, my pussy tight with the thought of what’s coming.

  “I haven’t claimed this sexy ass yet,” he murmurs, tracing a palm over the curve of my ass longingly, before he slaps it once, just hard enough to sting.

  I moan. It’s hard to concentrate with both vibrators inside me at once, the one in my pussy pressed right against my G-spot.

  Then he leans his hips into me, and the tip of his cock presses into my ass, pushing the second vibrator deeper as he does.

  “Fuck, Caleb,” I manage to groan.

  “God you are so fucking sexy.” He grabs my hips with both hands now, slowly pushes his cock deeper into me. Between the slim vibrators and his thick, rock-hard cock, I already feel like I’m fuller than I’ve ever been.

  Caleb reaches up with one hand, cups my chin and pulls me into a hard kiss, his tongue invading my mouth as he thrusts one last time, pushing his cock all the way inside my ass. The vibrations and his dick are enough to push me over the edge. I moan as my orgasm sweeps through me, and he just deepens our kiss, drawing back slightly to thrust into me again, and again.

  By the time he starts to fuck my ass in earnest, the vibrator in my pussy pushes me into a second climax. I come screaming his name, and he locks eyes with me, fucking me faster, his muscles taut as his own pleasure starts to build.

  I come a third time before he grips my hips with both hands and thrusts into me, his teeth clenched.

  “I’m gonna come in your tight, perfect little ass, Dirty Girl.” He bucks harder, grips me tighter, and I thrust back against him, my voice lost. “I’m gonna come, fuck, Carmine…”

  A guttural moan escapes his throat as he comes, and I moan again at the hot rush of his cum inside my ass. He flicks off the vibrators and pulls out of me, reaching up to unhook my arms. Before I can move, he’s scooped me into his arms and carried me the few steps to the bed.

  We wind up tangled in the sheets, our legs entwined, both of us breathing hard, covered in sweat and sex, unable to wipe the smiles from our faces as we gaze at one another.

  “I am definitely falling for more than just your sexy mouth, Carmine,” he murmurs. Then he leans in to kiss me, softer, sweeter this time, even as his arms curl around me possessively.

  “I think I might be falling for more than just your accent, Caleb,” I admit. We grin at each other and he pulls me closer.

  As we drift off to sleep, I turn to peer up at him: the sexy, incredible man who just a few days ago was no more than an unbelievably hot photo on my computer screen.

  Who knew? Sometimes cheating the system and avoiding dating really does work. I grin and curl up against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat drums in my ear as I fall asleep.

  This time when I dream, it’s all fantasies that I know I can one day actually live out.

  * * *

  I wake up to the scent of something delicious, mouth-watering. Bacon maybe?

  I find the bed beside me still warm, Caleb’s form missing. For a moment, my heart leaps into my throat. Then I hear the soft hum downstairs, his voice perfectly on key, and the soft sizzle of something. Not to mention the smell.

  I toss on his T-shirt, the first one I find discarded on the bedroom floor, and pad downstairs. When I reach the kitchen, Caleb has his back to me, dressed only in his boxers. I take a moment to admire him, this hulk of an Adonis who I’m sleeping with. This man’s man, who dominated the hell out of me last night, filled me in every way possible, satiated me in a way I never imagined I could be. He’s the only person who’s ever completely understood my kinks—not only understood, but also reciprocated them, loved them as much as I do.

  “Don’t just stand there,” he scolds, his back still turned. “Come get your breakfast.”

  I laugh and step into the kitchen. Cross to his side. Before I can see what he’s cooking, he sets down the spatula and grabs my face in both hands, kissing me, long and slow and deep. When we pull apart, I finally recognize the scent.

  “Pancakes?”

  He grins and turns back to the stove. “You aren’t the only one who can cook, you know.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I reply with a grin, nudging his shoulder with mine. “Those still need to stand up to my taste test.”

  “Don’t worry.” He casts me a sideways smirk. “I know how particular your tastes are. You’re a hard girl to please, Carmine. But every inch of me is up to the job.”

  For once in my life, I actually believe a man who’s telling me that. I grin back at him, and lean over to snatch a piece of bacon from the plate cooling at his elbow. “Oh, I know, Caleb. I’m counting on it.”

  Copyright © 2017 Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  Contents

  1. Ram

  2. Cadie

  3. Ram

  4. Cadie

  5. Ram

  6. Cadie

  7. Ram

  8. Cadie

  9. Ram

  10. Cadie

  11. Cadie

  12. Ram

  13. Ram

  1

  Ram

  “So, Ram, who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Tim asks. He sits on a mound of dirt, planting flowers. He’s my boss at the landscaping outfit I work for part time. He’s an older man, married for twenty years and faithful as hell, but that doesn’t stop him from living vicariously through me. I have a reputation around town for my prowess in the bedroom. That’s a polite way of saying it. In other words, I’m the best fuck a woman will never pay for. I didn’t set out to cause a stir with the ladies, but word got around and now here we are.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I say. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

  I dig a hole in the center of the yard for a palm tree. With Tim’s weathered back, I’m the muscle around here and do all the heavy lifting and grunt work. It keeps me in shape, so I don’t mind it.

  “Are you about done with that hole?” Tim says.

  “Yeah.”

  Tim wipes his forehead with a rag he keeps in his back pocket and squints his eyes against the flaring sun. �
�Why don’t you go ahead and take off then. I can finish up here.”

  “Thanks man.”

  “I want a full report on your activities tonight when I see you next.”

  I laugh. “You got it.”

  I load my tools into the back of the truck with my surfboard. It’s well worn, scuffed on the bottom from hitting rocks and coral. It’s seen better days but it’s perfect for me. I know this board like the back of my hand and can control it as if it had a steering wheel. It has a lot of miles on it. Back in the day, I used it to compete in big wave competitions. I have a garage full of trophies to prove it. If I hadn’t injured my leg during a competition in Australia, who knows, I might’ve gone pro. Nowadays, people pay me good money to teach them to surf. It’s something I love to do on the side when I’m not working for Tim.

  Once everything is loaded up, I head for the beach.

  My client, a twelve-year-old kid named Ben, is waiting for me in our usual spot. The beach is packed with sunbathers, but Ben stands out among them with his bright-colored board—not a scratch on it—and his new wetsuit. I told his parents it wasn’t necessary for the expensive gear, but apparently they thought otherwise.

  I slide on my wetsuit—though it’s not really cold enough to need it. I leave the top half of the suit loose around my waist and grab my board from the bed of my truck. The sand is warm and feels amazing sifting through my toes after a long day of work in steel-toe boots. The water looks choppy despite the pleasant day. The sun is high, beating down on my forehead like a molten hammer. A few clouds linger in the distance, but nothing threatening. It’s a good day to catch a few waves.