Rough Stuff (Dirty Bad Things Book 3)

by Madison Faye

  “Fuck, Roman,” I gasp, my voice hoarse with lust and my body trembling. My knees feel weak, and I cling to his hair for dear life as his tongue swirls over my clit again and again, until it all starts to melt around me.

  “Better come quickly for me, princess,” he growls into me. “Better make this naughty little pussy come all over my tongue right now.”

  His mouth moves into me again, his tongue sliding hot and wet across my clit. And just like that, I let go. I bury the scream in my shoulder, my legs almost giving out as I cling to him so tightly. The orgasm shatters through me, making my knees shake and my pulse hammer like a drum through my ears as I come against his wicked, perfect tongue.

  He stands, his hands sliding up my body and gripping me tightly. Our lips come together, and I can taste myself on his lips, which only sends another thrill of heat through me. He teases his thick cock between my thighs, letting the swollen head tease over my sensitive clit as he strokes himself against me.

  “I know you can taste your sweet little pussy on my lips,” he growls.

  I moan, kissing him harder as he rubs his cock head over my clit, his hand pumping his thick shaft.

  “Maybe if you’re a good girl and say please….”

  Fuck. That dominant edge to him has me melting. It’s the filthy, commanding way he talks to me that has me wanting to jump him and let him fuck me any way he wants, right here in the tailor’s fitting room.

  “Maybe if you’re a good girl and say please, I’ll let you taste it off of my cock next time.”

  Oh God.

  I moan hungrily as I kiss him like a woman possessed. Our tongues roll together, our breaths panting into each others as his thick cock head teases over my clit again and again.

  “You’re gonna make me come, sweetheart,” he groans. “You’re going to make my big cock come all over this pretty little pussy.”

  It hits me like a grenade, and I crush my mouth to his as the second orgasm explodes through me. Roman groans into my lips, and I feel his cock throb and pulse against me as he crashes over with me. Thick, hot, pearly-white cum spurts from his head, splashing against my pussy and coating me with his seed. He groans, pumping rope after rope of his sticky cum against my lips, my clit, and my thighs, until I’m drenched in him from my tummy to halfway down my thighs.

  Roman kisses me deeply, both of us holding each other close as the glow sinks into both of us. He reaches down, hooking my panties and tugging them up. I whimper as I realize what he’s doing — pulling them all the way up so that all of his cum soaks into them, keeping him there against my skin.

  “Don’t you dare shower before tonight,” he purrs into my lips. “At the fundraiser tonight, when I see you mingling with all those big important people in your little black cocktail dress and good-girl pearls, I want to know that under it all, you’ve got my cum making a fucking mess of your panties and this naughty little pussy.”

  Chapter 9

  Roman

  I’m talking to a United States Congressional Representative, and I’m not going to lie, it’s about as surreal as you can imagine for a guy like me. My tattoos, and my scars, and most of my usual rough exterior are covered by an expensive, custom fit tuxedo, but I still know I stick out like a sore thumb at this fucking thing. The only reason the good Congressman from Colorado is still talking to me is that he misheard me talking about having visited the state a few times and thinks I’m a constituent of his.

  I know in the back of my head that I could always play the military service card and have him and everyone else at this damn thing eating out of my palm, but fuck that. I’d never go there, and neither would any other soldier.

  I’m not just fucking off from work — watching Quinn, that is — either. For one, I am watching her, like a fucking hawk, over the Congressman’s left shoulder. But for two, Gino specifically asked me to mingle, and even more specifically, asked me to mingle with a few specific people. There’s a reason for everything that snake does, and even if I haven’t figured it out yet, I know he’s up to something. I mean fuck, why is a old-school, New-York-connected mob guy like Gino anywhere near a ballroom at the Ritz full of government representatives and fancy benefactors?

  Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. But then, it’s a little tough to play detective when I’m talking motorcycle helmet laws with the Congressman and also keeping my eyes glued to Quinn.

  …Who looks fucking stunning by the way. Obviously. It really is a black-tie, black dress event, and she’s the damn belle of the ball in my eyes at least. Her dress is that perfect combination of elegantly chaste and sexy as fuck — long enough to be formal, but short enough to make my cock ache at what I know is underneath. Fitted loose enough to be classy but tight enough to let my imagine run fucking wild with those hips and the swell of her breasts. She’s got her long red tangles done up in this elaborate knot, and that pearl necklace around her neck?

  Well, let’s just say it brings out the dog in me. Let’s just say it makes me want to leave my own mark across the graceful slope of her breasts.

  What isn’t fucking helping in the slightest bit is that I do know whats under that cocktail dress. I know every curve and every smooth inch of skin under that thing. I know every place that makes her gasp, and whimper for more — every place I have put my mouth and every place I damn well will.

  And I also know the mess I left, and I know it’s still there, just like I told her.

  …I checked before I let her out of the car to get in here.

  Fuck, there’s something about her that brings that sort of dominance out in me. And there’s something about the way she moans so sweetly when it does come out that lets me know just how much she wants it too. Because sassy, smart-mouthed, sharp-tongued, feisty, fiery Quinn Moretti gets fucking wet when I tell her exactly what to do, and how dirty I want her to be.

  Staring at her over the Congressman’s shoulder as she smiles and makes small talk with a small group of older, distinguished looking women in similar black dresses and gowns, my mind wanders.

  …And my hunger grows.

  I can still taste her on my tongue. I’ve been able to taste that lingering sweetness from between her legs since we left Vito’s place, to dropping her off, to picking her back up again to come here. And by now, it’s driving me fucking crazy. I want more of her. I fucking need more of her. And more and more, the consequences and the pitfalls that this might bring our way become smaller and smaller in my head.

  Fuck the consequences. Fuck the threat of being discovered. Fuck Gino. The fury roars through me like wildfire at the thought of that psycho having this sort of control over her. No, it’s not enough for me that he doesn’t touch her, or that he’s only married to her as a cover for being too much of a pussy to just be honest with the world about who he is. It’s the control he has over her that gets my blood hot and my temper flaring. It’s that even if I’m the one who’s claimed her, he’s the one that still owns her. Contractually.

  The rage grows, and grows, and the Congressman keeps talking and talking until suddenly, it’s like the drone of a helicopter in my ear and I just can’t stand it anymore.

  “Excuse me, Congressman.”

  I flash the world’s quickest smile at the startled looking man before brushing past him and making a beeline for Quinn. I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care who might be watching, or what the prim and proper wives of public servants and venture capitalists might say when they see me march over and drag her away.

  …All that matters is her. Specifically, all that matters right now is her, me, and showing her exactly how mine she is. Not Gino’s. Mine. Because fuck whatever contract he has. Fuck his bastardization of the concept of marriage just to cover his own pussy ass. He doesn’t own her. And hell, that’s not to say I do, but it sure as hell does mean I’m about to show her how a real man claims what’s his.

  “Ma’am.”

  She jumps at the sound of my voice, and when she turns, and h
er face goes pink, I let my eyes capture hers.

  “Mr. Moretti would like a word.”

  She swallows thickly, nodding. “Oh, right, okay, I—”

  She catches the glimmer of heat in my eyes, and suddenly, her face goes a shade of red.

  “Oh.”

  …Yeah, she knows what I’m up to. Or at least, she thinks she does.

  “This way, Mrs. Moretti.”

  I lead her away from the gaggle of politician’s wives, pulling her through the crowded banquet hall towards one of the doors.

  “Where—”

  “Away from these people,” I growl, pulling her through the door and down a dark hallway.

  “And why’s that?”

  She gasps as I spin her, backing her into the wall and kissing her fiercely. She moans into me, arching her back and sliding her hands up my arms as her lips part for my tongue.

  “Because I couldn’t wait another fucking second to taste these lips or to put my hands on you,” groan into her. “And because if we didn’t leave, I was going to go ahead and do every single thing I want to do to you right there in the middle of that crowd.”

  She blushes fiercely, panting as her eyes dart over mine.

  “I guess that might be quite a scandal.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “So show me,” she whispers.

  I groan, turning and pulling her through a doorway into a darkened room full what looks like storage for random things from the function hall — metal folding chairs, a few banquet tables, a podium. I slam the door behind us and yank her against me, my hands sliding up every inch of her body. I tug at the zipper down the back of her dress, loosening the sexy little black number and letting it tumble to the ground at her feet. She’s in lacy black lingerie, and I groan as I pull her into me.

  “It’s Morgan, by the way,” she suddenly tumbles out.

  I pull back and look at her curiously.

  “My last name.” She frowns. “I fucking hate being called Moretti.”

  “And I fucking hate calling you Moretti.” I pull her back into me, my lips brushing hers. “Quinn Morgan.”

  “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” she quips.

  “Actually I was just planning on wearing you out.”

  She moans as I crush my lips to hers, kissing her fiercely. I pull her up into me, her legs straddling my hips as I carry her over and sit her on the edge of one of the banquet tables. My hands slide up her legs, her whimpers teasing through my mouth as my fingers climb higher and higher. Her panties are soaking wet, and sticky, and I groan, knowing she’s done what I told her to.

  …She’s still got my cum between her legs. She’s still marked by me.

  The filthy thought blazes through me, and when I slide her panties to the side and run my fingers up and down her slick, velvety lips, she whimpers in pleasure.

  “Such a dirty girl,” I growl into her lips as I ease a finger inside of her. “Walking around with my fucking cum making a mess of this little pussy.”

  She moans into me, her hands gripping me tightly as I start to curl my finger in and out of her tight little cunt.

  “Maybe I just like being a dirty girl,” she gasps. Her hands drop to my belt, and then lower, her small fingers gripping my thick cock through my tuxedo pants. “Maybe I like being your dirty girl.”

  Our lips crash together, and then it’s just a mad frenzy of pulling off clothes. I tear her panties down her legs, pulling her bra off as she half tears my jacket and shirt away. She runs her fingers up and down my muscled chest, her lips kissing over my skin as she drops her hands to my belt and yanks it undone. My pants drop, and she’s shoving at my boxers and freeing my cock with a soft coo from her lips.

  There’ll be time for slow later. There’ll be time to draw it out and make her beg for it another time. Right now, we’ve both been denied for two long days. Right now, its quenching a thirst.

  She drops back across the table, arching her back as I spread her legs wide around me and move in. I wrap my fist around my cock, stroking myself as I tease her clit with the swollen head. Thick, pearly-white precum drips from the top, leaving obscene and sticky trails across her pussy and her thighs. I center against her opening, groaning as I watch her soft pink lips stretch open around me, and then I drive right inside.

  Quinn cries out in pleasure, her arms reaching above her head to grip the edge of the banquet table. I grab her hips, hard, gripping her tightly as I slide out and then drive back in to the hilt. Every thick inch of my cock buries inside of her heavenly, tight little pussy, gripping me so eagerly as I start to thrust in and out of her.

  My heavy, cum-filled balls slap against her ass, and my fingers hold her hard enough to bruise. I look down over this goddess — my goddess — stretched out across the table in nothing but pearls and heels with her long legs around my waist and her fiery hair wild and free. She throws her head back, her face crumpling in pleasure and her nipples puckering to soft little pink points as her body ripples and undulates for me. Her pussy grips me tight, rippling up and down my shaft as we move faster and faster.

  Like I said, taking our time isn’t a luxury we have right now. Not with the consequences of being found out hanging over us. No, I’ll take my time with her later. Later, I’ll make her beg me to make her come when I draw it out until she can’t even stand it anymore. But right now, this is just her and me crashing together.

  Right now, this is hard, fast, body-shaking, bed-breaking fucking.

  My hands grip her hips tightly, pulling her against me again and again as I roll my hips and bury my fat cock inside of her sweet little pussy over and over again. She moans even louder, but I don’t give a shit about the noise. No one can hear us in here, and honestly, I’m past even caring if they can.

  I drive into her, her body shaking as I fill her to the brim, and suddenly, with a gasp of pure ecstasy, she explodes for me. I groan, my pace not even slowing as I start to fuck her right through her orgasm. She cries out, her whole body arching off the table as she explodes for me, her pussy leaking her slick cum all over my shaft as she gasps for air.

  I pull her up, kissing her hungrily as she throws herself into me.

  “I— oh my God,” she moans. “I don’t even know where that came from.”

  “Two days of denial?”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  I grin as I kiss her slowly, and then deeper, and then deeper still as I feel her roll her hips against me.

  Good girl.

  I slide my cock wetly from between her lips, helping her down from the table before I quickly spin her around.

  “Oh fuck,” Quinn moans as I bend her over it, pulling her arms behind her back. “Oh fuck, Roman, please.”

  My pulse roars and my cock throbs rock hard as I move back against her.

  “Please what, sweetheart?” I growl.

  “Please…” she moans as my swollen head teases over her lips.

  My hands have hers pinned behind her back, but I suddenly have an idea. I reach down for my discarded bowtie, and when I bring it up and start to wrap it around her wrists, Quinn moans eagerly. Fuck, I love that she loves this. I love the dirty little wild streak that burns through her.

  “Please what?” I groan again as I tighten the knot, keeping her arms pinned like that as she lays out before me, submissive and under my control. Quinn turns her head to the side, her big green eyes looking at me fiercely over her shoulder.

  “Please fuck me.”

  “With pleasure.”

  I drive into her with one stroke, making her cry out as my thickness fills her up. I can feel her muscles tightening and gripping at me as I pull out, only to pump my hips and drive every inch right back inside. My muscles ripple as I grip her ass tightly, pulling her back to meet my thrusts as I start to fuck her hard. I pull back one hand and let it smack down on that sweet, supple ass, making her squeal in pleasure as she throws her head back, her hair going all over the place.

  I groan, one hand sl
iding up to grip the silk tying her hands together like a handle, my hips pumping against her. My hand smacks down on her ass again, leaving a pink bloom across her skin as a cry of pleasure tumbles from her lips.

  “You’re mine, Quinn Morgan,” I groan, my cock pumping in and out of her and my balls tingling with the need to explode — to fill her with every drop of my cum. “Not his, not anyone else’s. Mine.”

  She cries out, thrusting back to meet me as her tight little pussy milks my cock for all it’s worth.

  “Make me yours,” she gasps. “Make me all yours.”

  We crash together faster and harder, both of us groaning in pleasure and both of us tumbling towards that edge and the sweet release. The world blurs around us, until it’s just her and me — our bodies coming together, two hearts racing at the same pace. And I don’t know how, but I know one thing beyond anything else I’ve ever known — I’m taking her away from all of this.

  Gino thought he could put her in a little glass cage and keep her like a little fucking bird. He thought he could make me guard her, and keep her there in that cage.

  …He’s going to learn how fucking wrong he’s been if it’s the last thing I do.

  She was never his to begin with, but she sure as hell is mine now. And I’m never letting her go.

  My hands grip her tightly, pulling her into me as I bury myself so deep inside of her slick, eager pussy. And we both just let go. Quinn screams in pleasure, thrusting back into me and taking me as deep as I can go as she just explodes around me. I roar, pulling her up and against me and driving my cock deep as my cum spurts from my crown. We both gasp, the ecstasy of it washing over us as I hold her right and pump rope after rope of my seed deep against her womb.

  I hold her just like that as we gasp for air — my arms around her holding close. Protectively. Possessively. And I have zero intention of ever letting go.