Bad Boys for Hire_Ken_Hawaiian Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  When Jolie was all rigged up, she gave Ken a thumbs up and dropped down the edge of the cliff. Her heart blossomed at the way he bravely stood at the side, waving to her.

  She descended slowly, her eyes locked onto him, as water misted over her head like the gentle rain of his love, refreshing her, and constantly reminding her of the care and concern he showered her with.

  Much later, she was naked, swimming in the pool at the bottom of the gulch canyon. The guides had departed, leaving her alone with Ken, who’d driven down the steep, treacherous road to meet her.

  They held hands and ducked under the lip of the falls into a private cavern carved out of volcanic rock. The walls glistened like the inside of a cathedral under the roaring rush of water. Vines trailed like a beaded curtain, guarding their privacy with a luxurious coat of leaves.

  “How’s this for our perfect honeymoon suite?” Ken brushed Jolie’s hair from her face and stared into her eyes.

  “It’s unforgettable. So beautiful and unexpected. Thanks for coming to the top of the waterfall with me.” She dabbed a kiss on his lips, knowing how hard it had been for him to look over the edge.

  “I didn’t want to miss something you love to do so much. Told you I’d meet you down here. Do you want to see the tent I set up?”

  “You’ve been here before?” Jolie’s eyes widened and a jolt of joy shot through her chest. “When did you have time to set this up?”

  Ken’s face split with a sexy grin. “During my supposed bachelor’s party while you were having your bachelorette party with all the male strippers and debauchery.”

  “I’ll have you know, I didn’t participate.” Jolie tapped Ken’s chin. “Are you telling me you missed your own bachelor’s party?”

  Ken pulled her toward a ledge beneath the falls. “Setting up a surprise for you is better than getting drunk over strippers.”

  Aww … He always thought about her and her feelings first. What a lucky bride she was.

  Ken picked up a flashlight and shone it into the lava tube. The light reflected and shimmered off the jagged rock patterns surrounding them.

  Jolie followed the light, crouching to get through the rough-edged tunnel to a hidden chamber, where a two-man tent sat on a flat and level area.

  “You weren’t kidding,” Jolie said, giving Ken a kiss.

  “Can’t beat the view.” He chuckled and opened the flap of the tent.

  “I love it.” She crawled in and sat on a double air mattress which was covered with satin sheets. Sprigs of flowers and colorful petals were scattered over the bedding amongst soft, colorful pillows.

  “Aloha, beautiful bride.” Ken put a lei around her neck. “Welcome to my chamber of molten love.”

  “Pure cheese.” She giggled before pulling his body over her. “But I love you just the same. You and all your surprises.”

  “I love you too, Jolie, and I hope every day we’re together will be filled with surprises—good ones.” He kissed her, long and slow, as he moved his hands down to her breasts.

  Her nipples were tender, more than usual, but Jolie held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice—at least not until she was ready to spring her surprise on him.

  “You okay?” He, of course, was always so perceptive.

  “A little sore from last night when we got sand all over ourselves.” They’d spent the night before in a tent on the beach where Ken had surfed into the evening, and then made love late into the night.

  “Watching you go down that cliff made me want you more, if that’s even possible.” Ken licked a trail down her neck, sucking at her sensitive zones.

  Jolie let out a moan as he rolled one nipple with his tongue. Somehow the pain mingled with the shocks of pleasure built the fires inside her to a burning pitch.

  He laved at each nipple, driving her to a heat of frenzy before moving his talented lips down the center of her belly, nipping and licking.

  “You know heights make me horny?” she uttered as he circled her clit with his tongue. “It must be the same with you and surfing.”

  His answer was to kiss her clit, wrapping his tongue around her nub and sucking on it. Thunder bolts of sensation zinged through her and she throbbed, feeling engorged inside. Hot lava built up deep inside her chambers as she groaned loudly at the lapping of his tongue and the sweetness of his love raining down on her.

  She wanted, no needed, more, harder and faster—like the pulsing of war drums in her inner ear. She jerked herself against him and grabbed him, lifting him to cover her.

  “I need you inside, filling me with all of you—everything you have,” she muttered, not wanting to come without him.

  “Your wish is my command, my fair bride.” Ken rubbed his cock against the engorged and wet lips between her legs. He circled her entrance and she bucked up, needing him inside, filling her and making love to that ring of fire within her.

  He dove in, groaning as he slid his thick hard shaft into her, all the way to the hilt. Jolie gasped at the moment, gazing into deep blue eyes full of love, care, and concern. Her Ken knew every inch of her body. Would he sense anything different? Notice the tiny bit of resistance in her womb?

  His lips came down on hers as he smiled and began moving. Slowly and circular, his cock hitting all the angles she loved so much. But this time was different. Each upstroke was more pleasurable, firmer, and drew full-throated moans from her—primeval and earthy. And the downstrokes? Unyielding and firm, massaging every erotic cell inside to a fiery pitch.

  His tongue mirrored the movements of his cock, not thrusting rudely, but stroking and drawing out the heat within her, until she was blazing and teetering on the edge of oblivion.

  She wanted, no, needed him to pummel her. To slam into her, to ravish her, so she gripped his ass, digging her nails into him to spur him on.

  But to no avail. Ken continued stroking and circling, moving his hand and resting it over her pubic bone. He caressed the womb that was starting to harden and make itself known, and she could feel him smile against her lips.

  “You’re baking me a little bun, gluten-free.” His voice was a low burr of pure satisfaction. “You thought I didn’t know? I have to be careful.”

  It was just like observant Ken to know what was going on with her. Well, then, she wouldn’t find out the gender of the baby, but knowing him, he’d guess correctly.

  “I can handle it,” she protested, wanting him to lose control and pound her like a fifty-foot wave, to unleash the power and energy he held coiled in that hard rod between his legs.

  “I know you can, but this way is better.” He stroked her clit, moving the entire area underneath while his cock caressed the spongy tissue inside. He was driving her insane, zinging her with more pleasure than she imagined possible, and he was in no rush—none at all.

  He was killing her control, forcing her to go with the flow, to lose herself and to surprise herself. And showing her how much better it was to trust him—fully.

  Closing her eyes, she let go of herself and gave in to the rapture showering over her entire body, loving him and receiving his love.

  The passion built like a subterranean volcanic explosion. Her climax snuck up on her, a sensation so strange, like a slow ice bucket spreading from her core to her arms and legs, chilled and hot at the same time—it was one hundred percent sheer ecstasy too hard to comprehend.

  She was dimly aware of wrapping her arms and legs around Ken, not sure where she ended and where he began. Her orgasm shimmered over every nerve, surface and deep, as euphoria flooded her with the pumping of her husband’s seed deep into her fertile womb.

  They held each other through the aftershocks, warm and enveloped in a cocoon of pure love which spread into a mystical glow over their bodies and souls, lingering deep into their dreams.

  Thank you for reading Ken and Jolie’s story, book #2 of my Bad Boys for Hire Series, featuring empowered women not looking for, but finding love in the most unexpected places. If you enjoyed this story, please c
onsider leaving a review and recommending this book to your friends.

  Please also look for the paperback. It comes in both normal size (11 pt font size) and large print (18 pt font size) and makes a wonderful gift. [Paperback, Large Print]

  Next in this series is Bad Boys for Hire: Nick.

  This Christmas, Carol Cassidy is caught between the naughty and the nice: a hired Santa and a disabled firefighter.

  Carol was an avid mountain climber until an accident left her in a wheelchair. Love is the last thing on her mind when she hires Nick to play Santa. Shocked at the sensations he elicits, she resists him and decides to date a good guy—a disabled firefighter. Nick is drawn to Carol like a magnet to iron, and he sets out to prove that bad boys who hire themselves out can be good boys, too—especially in bed. Carol discovers she’s not dead to passion, but when Nick’s dirty laundry is aired, she regrets choosing the naughty over the nice. Will the spirit of Christmas teach her that sometimes, a huge lump of coal can turn into the brightest diamond of love?

  Turn the page to read an Excerpt from Carol and Nick’s Christmas story.

  Bad Boys for Hire: Nick (Excerpt)

  Chapter 1

  “How many times have I told you not to have sex?”

  Nick Wolff propped his feet on his boss’s desk and shrugged. “It just came up.”

  “Then bring it down. Take a cold shower. Lop it off. Whatever.” Rex Carter, owner of Bad Boys for Hire Entertainment Services, stabbed an index finger at Nick. “All the other certified Bad Boys seem to have no trouble keeping their pants on.”

  If he only knew.

  Nick couldn’t help the way his lips twisted into what he hoped was not a knowing smirk. After all, he wasn’t the only entertainer who slept with the clients. He was the only one they complained about.

  “Who was she? The banker? Or the doctor?” Nick looped his fingers together behind his head and affected an uncaring attitude. Whatever complaints had nothing to do with the sex department and more to do with his “no-repeats” policy for certain clients.

  “It doesn’t matter. You signed an employment contract.” Rex’s voice was gruffer than usual. “No sex with clients. What’s so hard to understand? You’re damaging the reputation of Bad Boys for Hire. If word gets out that we’re providing sexual services, bookings will go down and our former clients will no longer refer us to their friends.”

  Rex Carter’s Bad Boys for Hire was a cross between an escort service and an impersonator service providing actors and entertainers for parties, events, fake dates, and other situations where women felt the need to “hire a hunk.”

  Nick had signed the contract forbidding sex as part of the offerings. But hey, stripping and exotic dancing stimulated appetites, and he simply hated for a woman to go away hungry, especially a well-heeled one with plenty of greenbacks to spare.

  Technically, none of the women were clients when he gave them their happy endings. He’d had them sign a waiver stating he was off the clock and not liable for damages. They’d been so eager to sign they didn’t read the fine print.

  Entertainer reserves the right to deny repeat engagements.

  All that didn’t matter now that Rex was breathing down his neck. Nick had a boatload of student loans and no job to show for his expensive private college history degree.

  “It won’t happen again.” Which was exactly what he’d told the former clients. Nick dropped his feet to the ground and prepared to stand. “Have you ever wondered why all the complaints I get happen after I refuse additional services? Not before?”

  Rex slapped both hands on his desk. “That’s another problem. You’ve worn out your welcome with the executive class clientele. I’m putting you on probation. You can hang up your Sexy Santa act, because from now on, you’re doing nothing but children’s parties.”

  “But Sexy Santa’s one of our biggest revenue generators,” Nick argued. He was the most popular entertainer, and he’d gotten the act down, including the surprise parties where he showed up half-dressed in a g-string and Santa hat, no pants required, with his bag of goodies.

  “Your last two clients canceled their bookings, so it’s children’s parties for you.” The corners of Rex’s lips turned down into a frown. “Just be glad I have something for you to do.”

  “You mean the Obsessive Book Whores and the Nasty Naughty Vixens?”

  “Yes, they were highly unsatisfied with your Halloween performance.”

  “Right. I wouldn’t touch either of them with a hollow weenie.” The event organizers of those two romance reading groups tried to blackmail him into sleeping with them in exchange for the Christmas gig. “I bet they lied about me, because they wanted me to audition for the job in bed, and I refused.”

  “Then you should be glad to do children’s parties.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Nick didn’t mind children climbing all over his lap. The problem was the tips, or lack thereof. Harried parents dealing with bouncing-off-the-wall children careening off sugar highs weren’t about to stuff a twenty down his pants the way horny women did, trying to cop a feel at the same time.

  “Believe it.” Rex flipped through a thick file folder. “I have you scheduled for preschools, charity organizations, and toy drives.”

  Nick winced and brushed his hand through his thick locks of hair. “I don’t look or feel like a Santa Claus. Too hard, dark, and handsome.”

  “Tough.” Rex slapped the folder into Nick’s hands. “Here’s your schedule for the next three weeks. Get out of here and stay out of trouble.”

  Nick needed the gigs, truth to tell, otherwise he would have shoved the folder back at Rex. The only reason he hadn’t been fired was because Rex’s sister was married to his brother.

  Not bothering to say goodbye, Nick stalked out of his boss’s office and shuffled through the information sheets. Mission Hills Montessori, The French Academy, Happy Hummingbirds Preschool, Bumblebees Dance Club …

  His eyebrows rose and he blinked, not sure he was reading it right.

  The Bumblebees Dance Club was holding their party and toy drive at the Club Rachelle, a biker bar and nightclub, to benefit a charity called Wheelympics.

  Pretty sketchy for a bunch of preschoolers to be dancing at a biker club. What was this world coming to?

  Chapter Two

  “Five, six, seven, eight,” Carol Cassidy shouted and raised her hands above the loud beat of music. “Body roll, on your toes, turn around, whip to the side. One, two, three, four. Toss your head. Shuffle right, shuffle left.”

  Her best friends in the world hip-hopped in front of her. They’d been together since preschool days when they were part of the Busy Bumblebees dance team.

  She, however, was a newcomer to the group, introduced to them when her brother, Ken, married Jolie Becker, the willowy slim redhead who was allergic to almost everything under the sun.

  The speakers pulsed as Carol steered her wheelchair from one end of the line to the other, barking counts like a drill sergeant on speed. Her friends were working up a sweat, thanks to the difficult routine she’d choreographed.

  Some might call her a sadist, some might say she was insane, but before the accident which left her a paraplegic, Carol was an avid mountain climber and she never shirked from hard physical exertion. Now that she was confined to a wheelchair, she worked out by dancing and propelling herself around the local high school track.

  “Come on, you can do it. Faster, faster.” She clapped her hands. “Move that body, move, move. One, two, three, four, kick, kick.”

  “Stop the music. Stop! I’m dying here.” Terri Martin Slade flounced on the floor, her lungs heaving like bellows. “Can we do something slower?”

  She was big-boned and very blond, and was always on a diet. It was her idea to use the dance routine as a workout. Terri spent her life around flowers since she owned a flower shop, and the rest of the time, she tooled around on a Harley with her new husband, biker Ryker Slade. Just the other day, she was complaining
about her sedentary lifestyle, and Carol wasn’t about to cut her any slack.

  “Get up, Terr. I’ll jiggle along with you.” Reaching for the music player, Carol cranked up the volume.

  “We’ve been at it for hours,” Nikki Chu, a slender, but out-of-shape Asian woman huffed and puffed. “Hate to say it, but I’ve already gotten my ten thousand steps for the day.”

  “What’s ten when you can go for twenty? Where’s your spirit for challenge?” Carol grabbed the push rims, the circular wheel that extended from the tires of her wheelchair, and turned one forward and the other backward so she could spin in a circle. “Come on, girls. Let’s jam.”

  She spun and lifted up in a wheelie while bobbing her head and wiggling her shoulders. “No let up. Move that body. Move. Move.”

  “I have to watch my pulse rate.” Her sister-in-law, Jolie, rubbed her nonexistent baby bump. Not only was she newly wed, but she was also newly pregnant and used her OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, as an excuse to loaf.

  “Sorry, no excuses, whatsoever.” Carol wagged her finger. “Not until the third trimester. Anyone else chickening out?”

  She wheeled around Leanna Rivera, a cake and pastry chef who owned a bakery, and Sherelle Edwards, a caterer of environmentally friendly food.

  “We’re good.” Leanna bounced and jogged in place, or rather, her prominent boobs bounced and brought the rest of her body along with her. Meanwhile Sherelle snapped her fingers, popping and locking her arms, elbows, shoulders and neck. She was the only one who didn’t look like she broke a sweat.

  “Great, let’s hit it.” Carol got in front of the Bumblebees and pushed and pulled her wheels to the frantic beat. Now that her broken back had healed and she was done with rehab, she was able to propel herself and did not need anyone to push her chair or help her get in and out of it.

  Her injury was at the thoracic level, somewhere below T7 or 8, which meant she had the full use of her arms and hands, but no control of muscle movement below her waist.