by Nikki Wild
I blew out a slow breath. Good Samaritan East wasn’t in my provider network. This whole thing must have cost a fortune, but then I realized I was worrying over nothing. Fortunes were something Nathan could afford to lose. Hell, it might even humble the guy a bit… But something about his words caught me off guard.
Baby? He never called me baby…
I glanced up at his eyes, and suddenly I understood. My hand softly moved to my tummy, holding it tight. No words could express the way I was feeling.
“Relax… You’re fine, and so is our little miracle,” Nathan said, placing a hand over my own. “Everything is going to be ok.”
Nathan’s face blurred before me, and I squinted, trying to make him out. “Nathan,” I whispered, feeling drowsy again. I desperately fought to focus. I didn’t want to lose him again.
“Yes?” he replied quietly, stroking my cheek.
I leaned into his touch, craving just a few more seconds of lucidity. “Stay with me… Stay with us…”
He nodded, leaning forward to press his lips against my forehead just above the bridge of my nose. “Always, Sandra,” he promised me. “I’ll always stay.”
I let his words wrap me in a tender embrace as I closed my eyes and drifted blissfully away.
Forty
Paris is cold in the winter. You never really think about that when you’re looking at pretty pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the quaint, narrow streets paved with cobblestones. It all looks so warm and inviting, and yet here I was, being forced toward shelter by the crisp and biting wind stinging my dark skin.
The dress wasn’t helping.
I shuffled up the steps of the huge church in the sheer, but billowing white folds of cloth. It draped beautifully over my frame, but did nothing to hide my obvious pregnancy. The strapless bodice was especially troublesome, as it exposed my expanding cleavage to the frigid air. At this point, I would have traded the whole outfit for a pair of yoga pants and one of Nathan’s big stretchy white t-shirts.
It was my fault, of course. I was the idiot who had to go outside for a breath of fresh air just a few minutes before the wedding. I’d taken on the Irish mafia, almost single-handedly dismantled a sex-trafficking ring, and exposed the corruption running rampant through my city’s police department, and yet nothing seemed so terrifying as walking up the steps and through the doors toward my destiny.
Everyone was waiting inside to start, cradled in the warmth of the cathedral. I was happy to see them, and obviously elated to be there, but this had all happened so fast… Was I ready? Could we truly be a family?
I thought back to everything that had led up to this moment. Unsurprisingly, Nathan didn’t want me returning to the force after I’d recovered, especially once I’d testified against the Captain. Right or wrong, cops looked after their own, and there was enough corruption to ensure I’d never see another promotion—or worse, that backup might not arrive next time I needed it. He told me I could oversee his security team, but that was just an excuse to keep me close while he found a suitable ring.
And what a ring it was.
I glanced down, the oversized diamond sparkling wildly in the colored light that streamed down from the stained glass windows. It was a platinum band with a sixteen-carat monstrosity situated right in the center of it. I wasn’t the kind of girl who spent her life dreaming of her wedding day, but on the occasions in which I had contemplated it, I never once imagined I’d have a ring or a dress as beautiful as this. Sure, it had to be custom-tailored to fit over my eight month pregnant belly, but that was a problem money could solve.
I looked away from the ring and toward the people staring expectantly at me from the pews. This was it. My moment. I almost laughed at the beauty of it all.
Everyone turned to watch as I stepped onto the red carpet leading to the altar. The organ began to play its marching tune, filling the space with warm, reverberating tones that disturbed the butterflies once lying dormant in my stomach.
Here comes the bride…
I tried not to look at the crowd, instead focusing on the man waiting for me just a few feet away. Nathan looked incredible. He was standing at the end of the aisle, that goddamn smirk spread wide across his handsome face, shifting in anticipation as he watched me steadily approach. I’d gotten used to looking at his thousand-dollar suits and his shoes that cost more than my car, but this was on a whole other level. There wasn’t a stitch on his clothing that had been made by a machine. It wasn’t just hand-tailored; it was molded, every fiber of the cloth handcrafted for this very moment. Ours were a pair of outfits suitable for a prince and a princess, worn by a billionaire and an ex-detective who wasn’t quite ready to wear several million dollars’ worth of diamond jewelry and a dress too pretty to sit down in.
I took my first step toward him, clutching my bouquet to my chest. I didn’t have a father to give me away. He’d left while I was still in elementary school, which either was because of, or had led to my mother’s addiction—I’d been too young to tell. Only a few distant relatives had come in his stead, and as much as I appreciated their support, I wasn’t about to let my uncle’s third cousin walk me down the aisle. Like everything else in life, if I was going to do this, then I was going to do it alone.
A certain solemnity hit me, just for a moment. I wished my mother could’ve been here, and Jenny—or at least, the versions of them I held so near and dear to my heart. In my mind’s eye, they were always sober, happy, and at peace, always living the best days of their lives. Nothing could have made this day any more perfect except for their smiling faces beaming at me from the pews. I felt a pang of regret sting my heart as I envisioned them doing just that.
I couldn’t let them bring my moment down. Nathan and I had decided back in that shitty Peachtree Overlook apartment that there was no use in hanging on to ancient history. We couldn’t change what had happened back then to either of us, but we could certainly change our futures.
That was what I was moving toward now, I realized: my future. My heart swelled as I began to step toward him in time with the music, tears brimming in my eyes as I let go of my guilt. I walked away from the ghosts of my mother and Jenny, and I reached out for Nathaniel Hale.
With every step, the one that followed seem to come even easier. I walked past the rich and the famous and the row of cameras capturing the event for the evening news. A real Cinderella tale, they’d say: a pretty detective from the Bronx finding her billionaire prince. They’d talk about how lucky I was.
And they’d be wrong.
Nathan Hale was the lucky one. He’d found the woman who could love him for all of his strengths and all of his flaws—of which there were many, I reminded myself with a grin. He’d found someone who could satisfy his most secret desires and make his dreams come true.
That was why I was marrying him. I was doing this because every single day, he made me feel like I was worth all of this. Every challenge we faced, big or small, every danger we’d overcome and every dollar spent—I was worth it.
And I couldn’t have loved him more.
His eyes sparkled with the same tears I was holding back as I stepped up onto the platform. The priest said the words that would bind us for all eternity, but I wasn’t paying attention. My whole world consisted only of the one man who had become a bigger part of it than I had ever anticipated. When Nathan whispered his “I do,” it barely even registered. My reply was just as simple, the two words slipping out breathlessly and effortlessly from my lips.
The priest closed his book. I could hear the smile in his words as he said, “You may now kiss the bride.”
We collided, the world melting away in that moment as our lips made their first contact as husband and wife. Everything around us was simply a farce. The fairy tale wedding, the dress and the church and the pretty faces—none of it mattered. The only real thing was this, our love and passion. Nathaniel Hale belonged to me, and I to him, and as our kiss stretched on and on, I was in no hurry to return to reality.<
br />
Everything else could have gone to shit. The church could have burned down around us, for all I cared. This was perfection, and nothing could ever compare.
“I love you, Sandra,” Nathan said, his lips finally parting from mine.
“I love you too,” I whispered in reply, smiling as I stared into his glittering eyes. “Now, can we get out of here before these cameras see things unfit for broadcast?”
“What about everybody else?” Nathan said, glancing past me at the crowd as if he hadn’t noticed them before.
“We’re in Paris,” I replied, laughing. “Let them eat wedding cake.”
Everyone in the room erupted into cheers as Nathan lifted me from the floor, my billowing white dress pouring over his strong arms as he carried me to the doors at the side of the cathedral.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Nathan shouted over the noise. “Grab some champagne and enjoy the party!”
The room cheered again as we burst through the doors and into a short hallway leading to a sunlit path. Cold wind bit into me again, now infiltrating from beneath my dress as Nathan carried me outside the church. I shivered in his arms, but quickly found myself thrust into the backseat of a long, black limousine that was waiting for us. The heated seats immediately brought relief to the chills sweeping through me.
Nathan just stood there at the door, letting the cold in as he stared at me, my legs awkwardly kicked up over the seat. I leaned forward, grabbing at his tie and pulling him in through the door, laughing as the chauffeur closed it behind us. Nathan tried valiantly to get the blacked-out divider up as the amused driver looked on. The window was closing too slowly as I ripped at Nathan’s belt, straddling him in my dress and lowering myself around his raging erection.
“Slow down,” he chuckled. “We have all night and if you’re not careful, we’ll have a baby with French citizenship...” He gripped me and moaned, shuddering as our bodies once again came together, though this time felt like it meant so much more than the last.
“You didn’t marry a slow girl,” I playfully replied, rocking my hips and driving him deep within my yearning body. He grunted softly, his hands gliding up my back to pull at the laces holding my bodice in place. “Besides, a marriage isn’t official until you consummate it.”
“What is this, the sixteenth century?” Nathan said, laughing even as I drew myself against him and worked his throbbing shaft with every ounce of my being. The sensation of his cock slipping inside drove me wild. The fire between us only flared brighter as we explored our newly formed marital bonds.
“Just make love to me, Nathan,” I told him, placing my hand gingerly on his cheek. “No witty comments. No stupid grins that you can hide behind. Take me like it’s the very first time. Make me yours all over again.”
We reveled in each other’s passion, basking in the knowledge that we would be together forever. A love like this didn’t come to an end. Though I didn’t say it out loud, I knew in my heart that not even death could separate us.
I moved on top of him, steady and slow, gasping as he finally freed my breasts from their fabric prison. He buried his face between the swollen mounds, carefully kissing and touching, gingerly lapping at my sensitive nipples until they hardened under his tongue. For once he was letting me have control. It was how I knew that I really had him. He had finally surrendered to me as much as I had to him.
He tugged dress up and off my body, revealing my pregnant nakedness. He moaned, watching me ride him ever so slowly. I dug my nails into his shoulders and pressed my forehead against his, on the verge of collapsing as my new husband drove me to the brink of orgasm.
“I love you,” I breathed, shivering as a telltale current jolted through me, heralding my impending orgasm. I bit my lip, looking lustfully into his eyes. “I don’t think I can hold back, Nathan…”
“Don’t,” he commanded me, “You don’t ever have to hold back with me, Sandra. I love you. And that’s never, ever going to change.”
I let myself go, staring out the window at the streets of Paris as our bodies blended into one. I knew this wasn’t the end.
This was only the beginning.
I wanted to say thank you to all my lovely readers for all of your wonderful comments, reviews, and e-mails. Don’t stop yet, there’s still one more sexy bonus novels included - turn the page!
Also by Nikki Wild
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Novels by Nikki Wild
Bad Boy Bikers:
Saving Landon (A Bad Boy Biker Romance)
Saved by the Bad Boy (A Devil’s Dragons Biker Romance)
* * *
British Bad Boys:
Royal Prick (A Bad Boy British Romance)
Arrogant Brit (A Bad Boy British Sports Romance)
Rock Hard (A Bad Boy British Rockstar Romance)
Played (A Bad Boy British Romance)
* * *
Bad Boy Rockstars:
Illicit Behavior (A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance)
Rock Hard (A Bad Boy British Rockstar Romance)
* * *
Bad Boy Stepbrothers:
Lust (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)
Richard (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)
* * *
Bad Boy Billionaires:
Protect And Serve (A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance)
Part Three
Bonus Novel: Illicit Behavior
A BAD BOY ROCKSTAR ROMANCE
Copyright 2016, Nikki wild
All Rights Reserved
Forty-One
Trent
“Dude! These groupies are totally ready to go!” My dreadlocked bastard of a bohemian guitarist laughed, splashing his bottle of beer in an arc.
The two hot young girls wrapped around him cooed a chorus of flirtatious giggles. They must have been just barely eighteen, clad in tight, low-cut shirts that made their silky, angelic breasts practically burst out of the seams.
Despite my lack of interest, I wasn’t about to rain on his parade. I lightly raised my own bottle of music festival beer to him, shaking my head.
“You go on ahead, man. Not feelin’ it tonight.”
No matter where we went, fans were throwing themselves at us – and my band-mates were always eager to take the free, willing pussy back to the bus for a fresh bang.
In fact, my bassist and drummer were already back there now, getting their freak on with a few nameless groupies now.
“Serious?” Waylon asked drunkenly.
His limber playing hand slid under a skirt and along a tanned, tender ass, drawing a blush from the groupie’s cheeks. The sight made my cock almost twitch.
Almost.
“You sure you don’t want to try a piece of this Alabama ‘tang?” He pressed on. “Plenty to go around. I’m not greedy.”
The groupie twosome puffed their chests and wiggled provocatively for me, giving me the deepest pair of sultry, lustful looks that they could muster.
They looked cute.
Cute, and too young to be acting like this.
“Think I’m just gonna relax and ride the vibe,” I reaffirmed. “Go get your
dick wet.”
“If you say so!”
“And ladies,” I continued, turning towards the girls, who settled down and looked at me almost fearfully. “Don’t keep him up all night. This guy needs to be shredding licks same time tomorrow.”
They nodded respectfully, but Waylon jumped up to his feet, his dreads scattering around his face briefly.
“Ain’t gonna happen. This train rides ‘til sunrise! Ain’t that right, ladies?”
They chuckled with big, goofy hero-worshipping grins on their faces. He scooped them up against his sides, and soon they stumbled off towards the back of the after-party, heading for our bus.
Joke’s on them, I thought to myself. Waylon’s a two-pump chump on a GOOD day.
Truth of the matter was that I’d been in a funk. For the last few weeks, I had turned down sex left, right, and center from even the most flexible little minxes.
A constant stream of the hottest goddamn chicks around went fucking wild for us on the regular.
And why shouldn’t they?
We weren’t just anybody.
We were Trent Masters and the Whiplash, the hottest fucking rock band in America.
On national radiowaves dominated by DJs making music off of laptops, mainstream child stars glammed up and given backing bands, and egotistical personalities lacking substance and spitting shit…we brought something better.
