Rough Stuff (Dirty Bad Things Book 3)

by Madison Faye

  Yeah, I know this is reckless. This is tempting fate. This isn’t sneaking around, this is me about to fuck her right here on the floor of Gino’s house.

  But like I said, there’s not a power on earth that’d pull me away from her, or stop me from claiming her.

  My body rocks against hers, and her hands start to shove my jeans and my boxers down over my hips. My thick, achingly hard cock jumps free, and she whimpers as she wraps a hand around it again and strokes me. I grab her ass possessively, digging my fingers into her soft, supple skin and picking her up against me. It’s like the alley all over again — her back against something with her legs around my waist and my cock poised and ready between her thighs.

  I nudge forward, letting the swollen head tease over her lips before nestling between them, right at her entrance. Quinn moans wildly, trying to push against me as if trying to get me to slide in, but I hold back.

  I’m going to tease her first.

  “You want this cock, sweetheart?”

  “Uh-huh,” she pants back, nodding her red-cheeked face as she rakes her teeth over her lip.

  “Tell me,” I growl.

  She gasps quietly.

  “Tell me you want this big cock to slide inside that sweet little pussy and fuck you until your cum drips down my balls. Tell me you’ve been dreaming of this since the alley.” I groan, flexing my hips and letting my cock head tease up and down her slit until she’s panting and moaning for it.

  “Tell me you’re mine.”

  Quinn whimpers, her lithe hips rolling under my hands, her slick, hot pussy sliding up and down my underside until I’m so hard it almost hurts. Precum leaks from my head, leaving sticky white streaks of my want for her all over her cunt and her thighs.

  “I—” She swallows thickly, her eyes darting across mine. “You know I’m someone else’s, Roman,” she says quietly.

  The rage spikes inside of me. The caveman need to steal her, and throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to my own cave to ravish her. That primal desire to plunge my cock to the hilt inside of her, and to leave my mark all over her and pumping deep against her womb almost overpowering.

  “The fuck you are,” I hiss, shaking my head. “No, sweetheart,” my jaw twitches as I lean close, my lips millimeters from hers. “No, you’re not his. You were never his. But you are mine now.” Our lips crush togethers, tongues melting into the other’s as we slam together.

  “All mine.”

  My hips rock forward, and every single inch of my thick cock buries to the hilt inside of her. Quinn screams in pleasure, throwing her head back and moaning wildly as her tight little pussy clamps down and ripples around my thickness. I slide out, only to drive all the way back in, claiming her all over again. I growl into her lips, her sweet little body rolling against me as I start to fuck her hard, giving her every inch, plunging so deep inside with every thrust.

  It’s fast, and it’s wild. It’s untamed and raw. It’s her and me, and any of the rest of the warning signs and the knowing this is wrong, and the danger surrounding this just float away. Her nipples drag over my muscled chest, her whimpers trembling though my mouth as I kiss her hard, tasting her lips. I plunge in and out, my hands tight on her ass, fingers digging into my skin as I fuck her against the banister like that.

  Quinn screams for more, her nails digging into and then scratching down my back as her tight little pussy grips and milks my thick cock so sweetly.

  “Harder,” she gasps, this wild look in her eyes that gets my pulse roaring. “Make me yours.”

  I want to tell her again that she already is. But then, actions do speak louder than words, right?

  She shrieks as I pick her up, turning and then easing us both down across the stairs, without ever pulling out of her. Her legs spread wide, her heeled feet up in the air with her panties still hanging off one ankle. My hands move to her waist, circling her body and holding her down tightly as I pull back to let just my thick head tease across her clit.

  “Fuck, Roman,” she moans in frustration, her hips undulating to try and slip me inside.

  “You want my big cock filling this naughty little pussy?” I growl, easing my head against her lips. “You want me to fuck you like a bad girl, don’t you?”

  She moans in pleasure.

  “You want me to pin you to the stairs and claim you like you’re my personal little fuck toy don’t you,” I snarl. Quinn cries out in pleasure, her whole body trembling as her face crumples with raw lust that makes my cock twitch against her.

  Oh, Quinn likes it dirty all right. Quinn likes it rough. And she’s about to get both with me.

  I drive in with one stroke, both of us moaning in pleasure as my thickness plunges deep into her tight, slippery pussy. Her legs tighten around my waist, her thighs flexing as she pulls me tight, keeping me deep inside of her. I roll my hips, sliding every inch of my cock from her until just the head is inside, before I drive back in balls-deep.

  There’s no slow build up here. I just start to fuck her. She screams in pleasure as I start to nail her to the stairs, her hair streaming wild as she tosses her head back, and her ankles locked at my back. My muscles ripple, the whole world melting around me until there’s nothing left but her, me, and where we meet. Her slick, velvety little pussy sucks me greedily back in with every stroke, my heavy balls hitting her ass as we move even faster.

  I pull out, and she whimpers before I suddenly flip her over, making her moan. I ease my cock right back against her sticky, dripping wet lips and plunge right inside, making her scream as I fill her to the brim. I grab her hair, pulling it tight as I start to thrust my cock in and out of her, my abs rippling and my jaw clenching tight as I plunge back inside that sweet, untouchable heaven.

  “Reach back, sweetheart,” I groan, my hips plunging my cock into her again and again as her screams of pleasure echo through the foyer. “Reach back and spread yourself open for me. I want this pretty little pussy to take all of my cock. I want you to know what it feels like to be filled like I know you’ve never been filled up before. I want my cock to claim parts of you that no man ever has.

  She pants, nodding eagerly as she slides her hands back, down over her hips to grip her own ass. She spreads herself wide, and I groan as I watch my glistening cock drive in and out of her tight pink lips. She grips me so good, her lips clinging to my thick cock as I plunge in and out of her. I bring my hand back and give her ass a smart smack, making her moan deeply as we crash together faster and faster. I spank her ass again, this time letting my thumb tease down between her cleft to stroke over her tight little asshole.

  “I’m going to claim that too, you know,” I groan, my balls tingling as they fill with cum for her. I can feel her getting tighter and tighter, her pussy rippling up and down my length, and I know she’s getting close.

  My hand tightens in her hair, making her gasp as I tug her head back and bring my lips down to her ear.

  “You were never his, angel,” I growl. “But you’re fucking mine now. Every part of you is mine, and it’s been mine since I drove my cock into this sweet little cunt against the wall the other night. Just like that, sweetheart. Push back, push back and let that greedy little pussy swallow up every inch of my big cock. Let me go so deep you’ll still feel me there a week from now. I want your greedy little pussy to miss me when I’m not balls-deep inside of you. I want to give you so much of my cum that you’ll still feel me dripping out of you and ruining your panties days from now.”

  Quinn screams in pleasure, on her hand and knees on the staircase with her back arched and her ass up in the air for me. My thick cock plunges in and out of her, the filthy sounds of us wetly coming together filling the room.

  “Roman, I’m— oh fuck, I— you’re going to make me—”

  “I want this pussy to come for me,” I groan, feeling my own climax about to thunder through me. “I want to feel your girl cum drool all over my big cock when I pump you full of my seed.”

  She cries out, wh
impering and moaning and clawing at the stairs as I drive into her over and over, my hand tight on her hip and the other tugging at her hair.

  “You may be bound to him, angel,” I purr into her ear. “But you belong to me.”

  I drive in to the hilt, and Quinn loses it. She screams, her entire body arching and rippling and thrusting back into me as her climax explodes through her like a bomb. I groan, thrusting hard and fast, giving it to her exactly how I know she needs it as I feel myself crash right over that edge of no return.

  My heavy balls twitch, and when I plunge all the way in, I roar as my own release comes thundering through me. Hot, thick jets of my cum pump against her womb, filling her with rope after rope until I can feel it leaking out from where we join.

  We come to a panting stop, my body covering hers as I slide my hands up and down her body. I push her hair aside, my lips teasing over the nape of her neck as she whimpers and shudders under me.

  This is deeper than I ever thought I could get. I’m more tied up with her, and she’s buried deeper inside of me than I thought was possible for a man with the demons I’ve got. And instantly, I know two things.

  One, she’s mine. And two? Well, I’m going to steal her away from the man who thinks she’s his.

  Like I said. She’s bound to him, but she fucking belongs to me.

  Chapter 7

  Roman

  Shit this is bad.

  In the two days since we crashed together in the foyer of her damn house, I haven’t been able to touch her. It’s like Gino knows. Except if he actually knew, I’d already be dead. But for two days, even as her own personal bodyguard, it’s like I haven’t had one damn second alone with her. When I’ve driven her, it’s always been with someone else too — another captain’s wife, one of Gino’s lieutenants, or Gino himself. And we’ve been surrounded by people at any other opportunity.

  And it’s driving me fucking insane.

  Because two days later, I’m craving her. Two days of only being able to look at each other, or to say words that are so coded in hidden innuendo that you lose track of what the fuck you’re even saying.

  But it’s not a physical thing either. It’s not just that my cock’s been hard for two fucking days and my balls feel so full of cum that I’m going to burst. It’s that two days later, she’s literally the only damn thing I can think about, to the point of dangerous distraction. I wanted her before. I desired her before.

  Now? Now I’m fucking addicted, and she’s a hit I’m dying for.

  It’s also been odd to look at Gino with what I now know. It’s almost sad, really, that the guy has to have a fake fucking wife because of whatever hangups he’s got about his taste in who he bangs. I mean, who even fucking cares about that shit these days? Let’s be honest, Gino Moretti is a psychopathic sadist who should scare the fuck out of anyone no matter who he likes to screw.

  But then, this is the reality. And the reality is that Gino’s married to the girl I can’t get my damn mind off of. He might not touch her, and it might not be a real marriage. But that doesn’t mean I’m not extremely aware of how fast I’d find myself staring down the business end of a gun if he ever found out about me and Quinn.

  “You’re all fucking brooding today, brother.”

  I’ve actually been dismissed from my job duties for the afternoon, so I’m out at the garage on route fifteen working on my Harley. Ryker, a buddy of mine who owns this piece of shit old shop is working on his own wheels — a vintage BSA beauty in gleaming chrome and teal.

  I turn to see him looking at me curiously, and I shrug. “I’m alway brooding.”

  Ryker chuckles. “Well, less talkative than usual.”

  “Coming from you?”

  He snorts, pushing a hand through his shaggy hair before bringing it down to stroke his bearded chin. “Fair enough,” he growls in that voice of his that sounds like asphalt and smoke. Ryker’s a friend I met semi-recently when we were both doing a private security gig for some douchebag movie star who was in town to waste money at the poker tables. The man has some kind of a dark history chasing him down, I can easily see that. But he’s not saying, and I’m not the type that’s going to ask. I know enough though. I’ve seen the tats up and down his arms, and I know the mark of a motorcycle club when I see one.

  I also know what bullet hole scars look like.

  But like I said, I know enough not to ask about shit like that. Ryker was Rangers back in the service, so we’ve got that in common besides our bikes.

  “You think up a name for this place yet?”

  I know me saying it is going to get under his skin, but then, that’s my intention. Plus it takes the heat off of me and the whirlwind of shit going through my own head.

  Ryker glares at me. “Told you man, I’m not opening a shop. This spot is just for me.”

  I shake my head. It’s an argument we’ve had a couple of times. The old garage is in a perfect spot for a motorcycle shop and repair place, since the highway it sits right off of is a huge riding spot for bikers — everyone from the weekend warriors on their cruisers to the true outlaws who live on their rides. And hell, with what the both of us know about bikes? This place could really be something.

  But Ryker’s had zero interest in doing it, like he got this place more as a spot to hide than a spot to make something cool happen. But like I said, there are a few things soldiers like us know you just don’t ask questions about. So now, I just like razzing him with “shop ideas” just to get under his skin.

  “How about Shaft and Nuts?”

  Ryker snorts, despite his best attempts not to. “Fuck you.”

  I grin. “Steel Cowboys? Oiled Hogs?”

  I’m fucking with him, and he knows it.

  “Listen, Roman, you wanna open a gay strip joint, I say more power to you brother. You do you.”

  I laugh, taking a swig from the sweating beer bottle sitting on the tool bench next to me.

  “By the way, don’t think I didn’t catch you changing the subject just now.”

  I glance up to see him smirking at me, toweling off the oil from his hands before reaching for his beer.

  “No idea what you’re talking about,” I grumble, looking back at my bike.

  Ryker chuckles. “Fuck am I glad you’re not a poker player. Your ass would be broke before you could say bullshit.”

  I scowl, taking another swig of beer.

  “It’s nothing. Work shit.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ryker crosses his tattooed arms over his muscled chest, eyeing me. “So what’s her name?”

  My eyes snap to his, my jaw clenching. He just grins and taps a finger against his temple. “Rangers, remember? We catch all sorts of subtle shit you and your knuckle-dragging jarhead buddies never even know to look for.”

  “Easy,” I mutter.

  “Oh is that her name?”

  Anger flashes through me for a second, and I snarl at him. “I said watch it.”

  Ryker holds his hands up, but I watch that look of triumph wash over him, and I know I’ve basically just blown up my own spot.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, glaring at my bike.

  “Shit, she’s got you all sorts of wrapped up now doesn’t she?”

  “How about we drop it.”

  “Hey, suit yourself.”

  We’re silent another minute or two, listening to the Eagles record over the shop sound system as we tinker with our rides.

  “She’s married.”

  I have no idea why the fuck I say anything, but there it is, tumbling out. Ryker glances at me and nods.

  “And that don’t sit well with you.”

  “No shit.”

  “She love him?”

  “No,” I hiss.

  “He love her?”

  “Nope.”

  My buddy shrugs. “Well, shit, what’s the problem then—” He pauses, narrowing his gaze at me like he’s trying to reading something far away.

  “You love her?”

  “
Fuck off.”

  “Hey you brought it up, dickhe—”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck.

  I know it's true the second my dumb mouth blabs it out. And instantly, I know that’s the bigger problem with the whole thing. It’s not just that I’m fucking my psychotic mob boss’s wife, even if its a sham marriage. It’s not just the threat of torture and death hanging over me. It’s that I’ve fucking fallen for this girl, like I’ve never fallen before. Not even close.

  Fuck me, I do love Quinn. And somehow that happened like a ninja lightning strike I never saw coming.

  “So, what’s stopping you?”

  “A bullet to the head.”

  His brows go up. “Well, shit, that got interesting. What’s her man, some kinda—”

  “Not her man,” I snarl.

  Ryker nods slowly. “There ain’t much in this world worth actually dying for, brother. I think we both know that better than most after the service. Is she?”

  I’m still trying to figure out how to answer when a black Escalade peels off the main road and rumbles up the dirt drive up to the shop. Ryker tenses, shutting the music off before he reaches for the twelve-gauge he’s got in a saddle holster under the workbench. He doesn’t pull it out, but his hand lingers as we watch the SUV get closer, until I realize I know the car.

  …It’s one of Gino’s.

  The Escalade comes to dusty, crunching stop outside the garage bay doors. The engine stays on, and this guy Mario who’s some underling of Gino’s hops out and trots towards us. Ryker tenses, and he starts to pull out the shotgun when I stop him with a shake of the head.

  “It’s a work thing.”

  “Yeah well your ‘work things’ tend to involve the type of scumbags who may or may not need a pellet round to the chest,” he mutters under his breath.

  I grin. “I got this.”