Bad Boy Rebel (Salma Rebels Book 1)

by Skye Darrel

  My nipples pucker into points, my desire mingling with a nervous energy that shivers down my spine.

  Asher squeezes my breasts so hard I gasp. He enters me with one swing of his hips and I arch against his body. I wrap my legs around his torso, moaning under the impact of hard thrusts.

  He snarls.

  Every nerve ending in my body lights on fire. I cry out, my toes curling, heating churning through my belly as his tongue tangles with mine, his cock pumping steadily, deeper and faster, and he bites my lower lip.

  Our bodies slap together and my legs swing into the air. My pussy constricts with the first pulses of orgasm.

  “I love you,” he groans.

  “Yes.”

  He bends back.

  I look down to see the muscles of his stomach flexing, my flushed folds stretched thin around his thick cock. That scar in the skin of his hip lengthens like a thunderbolt.

  His fingers find my pulsing clit.

  I shut my eyes, my hands on his heaving flanks, and I savor the feeling of surrender to a man who could hurt me but chooses not to. I soak in the strength of his body, the power coursing through him, as my walls clench his cock. He’s so deep inside I can scarcely breathe.

  “I own your cunt,” he growls between bared teeth.

  “And I own your cock.”

  “Yeah?”

  I clench my pussy harder on his thickness. “Yeah.”

  He slaps my breasts and my nipples sting with sharp pleasure. I buck my hips upward with a gasp. He leans down, dragging his mouth over my throat, and we press together as the base of his cock rubs on my clit.

  Convulsions rock my body.

  We cum together.

  His seed floods my pussy in bursts and I tear my fingers through his hair. Closing my eyes, I drown in his scent.

  I wake up shivering even though it’s warm. Asher’s gone. It’s dark. But he’d pulled the sheets over my shoulders before he left.

  The clock on the nightstand reads 2:10 a.m.

  I don’t remember falling asleep. I remember his fingers massaging my tender clit while I lay against his shoulder.

  Getting out of bed, I pull my hair back in a messy tail. Our clothes litter the floor. I go to the closet and pull one of his shirts off the hangars, slipping it on, relishing the feel of smooth fabric on my skin. It smells of clean laundry and him.

  My eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

  I follow the creaking staircase to the landing. Shadows flit across my vision, and I feel that eerie chill again, like ghosts watch me.

  The basement door is open. Light from below bathes the near wall.

  Asher told me to stay out of the basement, but if we’re going to be together, I can’t have him keeping secrets from me. Any secrets.

  I follow the steps down.

  The air grows colder.

  I find myself in a cinderblock room that smells strongly of coffee and metal. Storage lockers with combination locks line the walls. A picture of Verne Resnik is taped to another wall.

  Asher’s sitting at a desk in the corner, wearing earbuds linked to a computer. The desk is stacked with electronics. The computer screen shows an audio replay graph.

  I move closer on tiptoes. A framed picture with four people in it sits on the corner of his desk. I recognize the younger Asher at once. Teens, maybe. Another man with dark hair stands at the end. Must be Eugene. Between them is a youthful Resnik and a girl with hair lighter than the brothers’, but she has their smile.

  Priscilla Wade.

  I look at Asher, the older one leaning over the desk, and he’s heartachingly beautiful. His eyes are closed, his jaw resting on the back of his knuckles. Shirtless. The light from a desk lamp throws deeps shadows in the cuts of his torso.

  When I nudge his shoulder, he grabs my hand.

  “Heard you come down,” he says. “That my shirt?”

  “You obviously don’t need it. What’s in those lockers?”

  “Weapons.”

  I shudder. “This your secret bachelor cave or something?”

  “Something.”

  Leaning down, I comb my fingers through his hair.

  Asher slides his hand up my thigh. The bottom of his big shirt I’m wearing hides what he’s doing, but I feel the tip of a finger tease against my clit. I whimper.

  “You need me, doll face?”

  “I need you to tell me what you’re listening to.”

  “Resnik’s phone recordings.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “You could say that.”

  He opens the bottom two buttons of the big shirt and brings me closer, rubbing his scruffy jaw across my belly, kissing lightly, and his finger on my clit move faster.

  I didn’t think my body would react after what we’d done in bed, but I was wrong. He touches me just the right way.

  “Your little pussy is wet again.”

  I smack the back of his head. “Stop messing around.”

  In answer, a finger slides into me and my knees buckle. He rubs under my front wall while his thumb flicks over my clit. The last thing I want is an orgasm surrounded by guns and who knows what else, but that’s what I’ll get very soon.

  Another finger goes in to curl against my spot, and with the pressure on my clit, I cum hard on his fingers. He brings up his hand to lick his fingers clean. With a gentle tug, he sits me on his lap.

  “You just had to do that, didn’t you?” I mutter.

  “Yeah. And if you keep rubbing your ass on me like this, I’ll have to fuck you again.”

  “Hmph.” I shift my butt over his erection and loop my arm around him. “I’ve had enough, thank you very much.”

  He’d been so rough in bed it felt like losing my virginity again.

  “Tell me what you’re listening to,” I say.

  Asher yanks out his earbuds. He turns up the volume.

  The smooth voice of Verne Resnik flows out of two speakers. I hold Asher tighter and frown. Resnik is talking to someone about fixing the lights in his office.

  “He’s a boring man on the phone,” Asher says. “For the most part. I’ve already gone through the recordings. A few hours’ worth. Mainly calls to business associates and the like, legitimate contacts. Food caterers, accountants, an electrician. Nothing that directly relates to the casino.”

  “So that’s it? It’s over?”

  “Not quite.” He taps the mouse. “This is an outgoing call from Resnik’s phone. Four days ago. Listen.”

  Resnik’s voice from the speakers: “We need to talk. Are you occupied?”

  There’s a short silence, whoever on the other end breathing heavily. Then a man’s voice answers: “Paperwork. A shit ton of paperwork.”

  Asher pauses the recording. “Sound like anyone you know?”

  The voice seems familiar, but I can’t place it. Asher’s hand on my thigh isn’t helping my matters and I knock it away.

  “I can’t think with you touching me.”

  “I can’t help touching you.”

  “You’re ridiculous—” The identity of the other man comes to me, sudden and clear. “Oh my God.”

  “Yes,” Asher says. “It’s our very own Chief Dunkel.”

  He resumes the recording.

  “I told you never to call me at the office,” Dunkel says.

  “This is a secure line,” Resnik says. “Now pay attention, Chief. Mr. Wade is digging around too much for my comfort. We had an understanding. You were supposed to keep him off my back.”

  “Your people shouldn’t have laid a finger on that real estate agent,” Dunkel replies. His voice is tense. “Asher likes her. He wasn’t any trouble until you touched his woman.”

  “My men were overzealous,” Resnik says. “Titus especially. But what’s done is done. Can Ms. Whipple still be convinced to leave town?”

  “Not likely. This Branigan fella came to see her a few weeks back. Her boss. Had some kind of dispute with her. I sent him to Goldilocks. Thought he’d get her
to leave, but it turned into a damn scene. She ain’t leaving.”

  Resnik sighs. “Just as well. Ms. Whipple knows too much. She’s a loose end that needs to be dealt with.”

  “No more bodies, Verne. We agreed. More bodies, more mess.”

  “Chief, you of all people should understand there are times when I am forced to act. You are as guilty as we—”

  “I’m not the one who killed Priscilla Wade,” Dunkel hisses. “That’s on you and Titus.”

  Resnik’s voice takes on a hard edge. “Priscilla meant the world to me, but we did what we had to do. Natalie Whipple is a fly on my windshield. You think I won’t do the same with her?”

  My mouth falls open and I look at Asher. His face is a grim mask.

  “She’s not from this town,” Dunkel says. “She could have people somewhere.”

  “Ms. Whipple has no one,” Resnik says, and the certainty in his tone chills me cold. “I’ve already looked into her background. Her family is of little consequence. Mr. Whipple is a biology professor at UM. Mrs. Whipple is a criminal defense attorney. Natalie is estranged with them. She has no connections to speak of. No one will miss her for months, and by then, she’ll just be another missing person, much like Mr. Costello.”

  “Who?”

  “A former employee of mine, a blackjack dealer. He’d been passing information to Mr. Wade. I let him go.”

  “Let him go?” Dunkel says.

  “I let him go into the afterlife,” Resnik says in a smooth voice.

  “Goddammit it.”

  “You should be more concerned about the information he passed.”

  “Does Wade know about Maral Swann?” Dunkel’s voice lowers to a rasp. “If he does, we’re in deep shit.”

  “No, Chief. You are in deep shit. He already wants me dead.”

  Dunkel mutters under his breath. “How do we deal with this?” he says.

  “Keep your eye on them. I’m preparing a course of action at my end. Wade dies. Whipple dies. End of story. We’ll speak later. Until then, stay alert.”

  The call ends.

  All the warmth has left me.

  “They won’t win, Natalie.” Asher runs his finger along my chin. “They won’t lay a finger on you.”

  I wish I felt so sure.

  23

  Too Good to Be True

  Asher

  She’s scared. Anyone would be. I would be too, listening to those voices discuss my death, but I lost my fear of death on that mountain in Afghanistan. My fear now is losing Natalie.

  I turn her chin toward me. “Was Resnik right about your parents?”

  “He was right about everything. I haven’t talked to my parents since I changed my major in college—they didn’t like that. They told me I was throwing my life away.”

  “What was your old major?” I say softly. I want to know, but more importantly, I need to keep her talking about something familiar. To calm her nerves. She’s shaking in my lap. “Natalie? What was your old major before art history?”

  “Um, it was prelaw. Premed before that. Computer science for like six months.” She smiles. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do, since no one thought what I really wanted to do was worth doing.”

  “Art?”

  She breathes. “Yeah. Mom wanted prelaw. Dad wanted premed. They both thought computer science was acceptable. They both thought art was a waste, they said I wasn’t good enough, that I’d never make it. We had a huge argument before we stopped talking. You know what I said? I said I don’t need a real job, I’ll find myself a rich man and marry him, and he’ll pay for my art studio.”

  Natalie laughs, but she’s on the verge of tears. “Mom lost it. She called me a silly spoiled princess, which didn’t bother me much. Then she called me a weakling. That hurt. She apologized right after, but the damage was done. Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at me like I was the biggest disappointment of his life.”

  I shake my head. I never knew my parents, so I don’t know how that’s supposed to work, but I sure the hell would never say that to my kid. “With all due respect, Ms. Whipple, your parents sound like assholes.”

  “They’re not assholes,” she says, angry now, which is good. Anger fights fear. “They didn’t understand me, that’s all. They meant well. They tried to contact me, you know, to make up. I never answered their calls. They came to my dorm, but I wouldn’t see them. The last thing I sent them was an email right before graduation. I told them not to show up at the ceremony, no matter what. I didn’t want to see them ever again. And they didn’t.”

  I stroke her hair, nuzzling against her cheek. “Resnik probably found your family information in the public record. Then sent someone to speak with your parents under false pretenses. Perhaps someone pretending to be your friend, asking after you. That’s how he knows. There are a hundred ways.”

  “You think he’d go after them?” Natalie says, alarmed.

  “No. He wanted to learn more about you. In fact, being estranged to your parents is the safest thing for them.”

  She sighs with relief. I feel her body relax.

  “You are a spoiled princess,” I say in her ear. “You’re my spoiled princess, and I don’t care how spoiled you are.”

  She pushes off my chest. I see the look on her face and I know the fear is gone.

  “You were not the sugar daddy I had in mind,” she says.

  “You had a sugar daddy in mind?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Princess . . .”

  She smiles sweetly. “I didn’t have anyone in mind. Now I do.”

  My cock throbs under the press of her ass. “Good girl.”

  Natalie bites her lip as her face flushes.

  “Chief Dunkel is helping Resnik,” she says after a while.

  “He’s corrupt, for certain. He was involved in Priscilla’s death. Beyond that, I can’t say. It doesn’t sound like he’s helping Resnik willingly. I need to pay him a visit.”

  Natalie nods. “We should talk to Eli as well. He could help us.”

  “You’re right.” Guilt fills me again. That kid got beat because of me. “But there’s no we. I want you to stay with Juno until I figure this out.”

  Her eyes flash as she swings her leg around to straddle me. She holds my shoulders. “You don’t get to decide where I stay, Asher. Resnik used my name. He wants to hurt me as much as he does you. I’m not going to stand by and watch. We’re doing this together.”

  She rolls her hips against me, her bare pussy rubbing on the crotch of my pants, my cock straining against her. I rip open the shirt covering her body and kiss her nipples. I grab her ass cheeks rounded over my thighs.

  “You need to sell Gatsby’s house,” I growl.

  “I can multitask,” she says, haughty and cute as hell. She unbuttons my pants and grabs my cock.

  “This isn’t a game, little girl.”

  “I’m your little girl, but I’m not a little girl.” She strokes me hard and fast. “Remember that,” she says. “I’m joining your vigilante investigation.”

  I grunt. “Fine, but when it’s time to finish it, I give him justice my way.”

  Natalie flicks her lashes. “When we get there, we’ll talk then.”

  “Doll face—”

  “Shut up.”

  I grind my teeth together. “I’m gonna fuck you all night, Princess.”

  “Big talk.” She pouts.

  I growl.

  She lures the animal out of me.

  I snatch her hands off my erection and lift her by the hips to my cock. Soft curves bulge between my fingers like fucking perfection. She may have put on weight from all that good food at Juno’s, which only gets me harder. She’ll need the padding to take my cock like a good girl.

  Her eyes wander over my straining biceps.

  Look all you want, baby. As long as I get the sweetness between your thighs.

  I let her desire drizzle me before I lower her body, groaning as her hot sheath stretches to acc
ommodate my girth. Her pussy feels so tight I barely have any room, but I make sure she sinks to my balls first before I do anything else. I know she cums hardest when I stretch her deep, when her little pussy grips every inch of my cock.

  I struggle to bite down my cum. Cream slicks all over my thighs and the air grows thick with her sweet scent.

  The flush in her chest seeps up her neck, joining the blush of her cheeks. Her tits look swollen and in need, her throat bared for my mouth. I want to mold her like fresh cookie dough.

  As lust overtakes my senses, my palm lands on her ass with a sharp clap.

  Natalie gasps and throws her head back, that beautiful hair falling loose in a curtain. I slap her ass again and I’m sure my handprint marks her soft skin.

  She yelps. “You like spanking me, Asher?”

  I slap her other cheek. When I speak my words come through my teeth. “I’m gonna spank you while I fuck you.”

  She turns her hips and her tight pussy tugs my cock before she sinks again. Her eyes are fevered as she grips my arms. “What else will you do?” she moans.

  Fuck, I’m being filthy enough as it is, but I can’t stop myself. Her body is my temple and I’ll worship every inch, but first I’m taking her how I want.

  I rub her clit for a bit, just enough to get my fingers slick with her cream before I find the cleft between the globes of her ass, the puckered rim there, and I push two fingers into her rear.

  Her doe eyes grow even bigger. “Asher,” she whispers.

  “You like that?” I growl, probing her tight hole as her pussy chokes my cock.

  She makes mewling noises and can’t decide whether to shift her weight forward or back.

  “Should I fuck you here?” I say, wiggling my fingers.

  She opens her mouth, then closes it. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  I smile savagely. “No?”

  “No.” She’s embarrassed for a moment. “No.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, kissing her once. “Just your little pussy then.”

  She rolls her eyes, breathing harshly. “Leave your fingers,” she says in a tiny voice. “It feels good.”

  I do as she says, probing her passage with one hand, squeezing her ass cheek with the other, and I bump her pussy on my cock all the while. Her face knits with rapture. I want to cum, but I hold off as she bounces, her buttocks squeezing my hand. I watch my girl learn her pleasure and she’s sexy as hell.