Bad Boy Done Wrong

by Kylie Gilmore

  “Wonderful!” He smiled widely and stepped out to the outdoor hallway. It was a warm August night, so she didn’t mention he should put some clothes on. He tucked a thumb into his robe pocket, jutting one hip in a casual male-model pose. If only. “Nice night. Going to meet a fellow?”

  “Just meeting a friend. Bye!”

  “You know, Carrie, sometimes the young men of today—”

  “Good night!” she exclaimed loud enough to drown him out. She made her escape, rushing down the stairs and to her car. She’d have to move to ever get over the awkwardness with Larry.

  She made the short drive to Zach’s place, not wanting to walk the three blocks in heels in the dark. She parked on the street and made her way to the front door, putting a little swing into her hips in an attempt to get past elderly flirting and back into her womanly mojo.

  She rang the bell and waited. A few moments later it swung open and her mouth went dry, her heart pounding.

  Zach stood there looking impossibly sexy in a gray T-shirt that stretched tight across wide shoulders, faded blue jeans, and bare feet. But it was his eyes that held her in thrall, filled with a dark hunger that made her feel both desired and nervous. Like he was about to pounce on her.

  “Hi,” she said much too loudly.

  One corner of his mouth curled up in a small smile. His voice was gravelly. “Come in.”

  She took a quick breath and stepped inside on wobbly legs.

  He watched her with hooded eyes. She clasped her icy hands together. Why was she suddenly so nervous? Then she realized she was stone-cold sober. Never mind that she was sober the morning after their first time together. That had felt more natural and relaxed somehow. Shifting from work to the encounter with Larry to hot sex wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped.

  “You, uh, have any wine?” she asked, heading toward the sofa.

  “No.”

  She set her purse on the floor next to the sofa and sat.

  He stood, still a distance away. “You change your mind about your list?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” She forced herself to stand and cross to him. He watched her approach but said nothing. She stood toe-to-toe with him and lifted her chin. “I’m ready when you are.”

  He slid a hand under her hair and squeezed the nape of her neck before leaning close to speak near her ear, the words hot against her skin. “I figured out your whole list, naughty girl.” He bit her earlobe and tugged it between his teeth.

  A hot shiver ran through her and her hands found their way under his shirt. “You did?”

  He pulled back and met her eyes. “Yeah, I did, Jane.”

  She dropped her hands, disappointed he couldn’t even remember her name. “It’s Carrie.”

  His fingers encircled her wrists. “Jane Bond.”

  “Oh! Yes. Ha-ha.” She was about to ask what he thought that Jane Bond business meant, but before she could get out the words, he drew her arms behind her back, capturing her wrists in one hand in a tight grip. Her pulse skittered, her breath coming faster.

  His other hand held her by the chin, his dark eyes glittering with intent. “Tonight you’re all mine, Jane.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His lips met hers in a hard demanding kiss. He pressed on her chin, opening her mouth and thrusting his tongue inside. She moaned, her body arching up to meet him, straining to get closer. His hand left her chin, tangling in her hair, his mouth devouring, hungry, overwhelming. She was lost in his taste, his spicy male scent, light-headed with lust. She needed more, wanted to grab him and pull his hardness against her softness, anything to ease this aching need, but he still held her tight, her wrists clamped in his large hand. His other hand left her hair and cupped her suddenly between the legs. Her soft moan was swallowed by his mouth. His fingers slid the damp panel aside and then they were inside her.

  He tore his mouth from hers. “You’re so wet for me.”

  “I know,” she cried as he stroked her inside, making her tremble.

  He released her suddenly, turned her and smacked her ass lightly. “Bedroom.” When she didn’t move right away, a little startled by the sudden change, his arms wrapped around her from behind. He spoke in a husky whisper. “So I can tie you to the bedposts.”

  She moved forward, more because Zach’s arm banded around her waist and he walked with her than of her own free will, her stomach jumpy, her heart racing. This was one of those things she’d felt like she should try—getting tied up. Now she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know him that well. What would he do to her? What if she couldn’t get loose? She’d put it last on the list, but he was such a bad boy he was going all out of order.

  Her voice came out shaky. “M-maybe we should start with something else on the list.”

  He stopped and turned her to face him, studying her for a long moment. “Like what?”

  “Sunday drive?” she blurted, extraordinarily relieved to have an out. Car sex sounded a lot safer than getting tied up.

  He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Six

  Zach walked Carrie to his pickup truck, fully aware he was being accommodating, which was not a bad-boy thing to do. What he should’ve said was, “Babe, get in my bed and spread your legs, or get out.” But he’d felt her nervousness, seen a flash of true fear in those baby blues, and he couldn’t do it. He knew she had no reason to be afraid of him, but she didn’t know that. Not yet. That he was committed to her achieving the best possible experience with her wish list was only a reflection of his true goal—keeping her safe from random strangers. Not because he had a soft spot for her.

  They got to his truck in the parking lot behind the apartment complex and he purposely didn’t open the passenger door and help her in like he normally would. Too gentlemanly. Instead he pinned her against the side of the truck and kissed her. Not gently. Then while she was still standing there, breathing hard, eyes glazed with lust, he swaggered over to the driver’s side.

  Yeah, he was disappointed about not tying her up. It was the one thing on her list he was psyched about. What did it say about him that he loved to dominate in that way? Nothing significant, he decided, climbing into his truck and starting it. All within the realm of normal male behavior, given the invitation to do so. Hell, if there weren’t some aggression in the male of the species, the population would have dwindled long ago, everyone sitting around chatting instead of getting down to business. He was tuned into the primal, thanks to his academic background, and he embraced it.

  He checked that her seatbelt was on and then pulled onto the main road, heading for the park where he’d spent plenty of Saturday afternoons playing basketball with the guys and plenty of high school nights up on the ridge making out with a girl. This “Sunday drive is sometimes bumpy” would go further, obviously Carrie wanted to give car sex a try. Easy enough.

  “Where’re we going?” she asked, sounding considerably calmer than earlier.

  “Park.”

  “So you really figured out everything on my list?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do I know you figured out everything correctly?”

  “You’ll have to find out—” he paused long enough to keep her on edge “—the hard way.”

  She giggled nervously, which told him he’d pulled off the attitude. “Oh.”

  The park was a short drive, technically closed now past eight p.m., but there were no gates preventing entry. He didn’t anticipate any company either since it was a Monday night. Carrie sat up straighter and peered around at the mostly dark park. Just a few streetlights on the main road. He drove past the basketball courts, the playground, baseball fields, and hooked a right, climbing up to the ridge, where he parked on the gravel, facing the overlook.

  He turned off the truck and listened. Dead silence. Just them and the night sounds—cicadas were carrying on with their mating calls. He turned and looked all around. They were alone.

  “C’mere,” he ordered. “Straddle
my lap.”

  She took off her seatbelt and tried, but her dress seemed to halt her progress and she bounced back into her seat. “My dress is a little too tight.”

  “No such thing,” he said, yanking her dress up to her waist and then guiding her over into position. He stifled a groan as she cradled his cock through damp panties. She smelled like vanilla and sex and he’d been ready for this moment since she’d stepped into his apartment in a tight little black dress and high heels that made her hips sway and sweet ass tilt back for his greedy hands. He told himself to go slow. Each experience was new for Carrie. Anyone could fuck hard and fast. He wanted to make it good for her.

  He slid a hand to the nape of her neck, under her soft hair. He was about to slowly pull her in for a kiss when she beat him to it, slamming against his mouth. Jesus. She kissed him roughly, urgently, eagerly, her fingers tunneling through his hair. He thrust his tongue inside, loving the taste of her, sweet and sexy. She sucked his tongue gently and he lost control. Need like he’d never felt before spiked through him. He gripped her hair with one hand, plundering her mouth, his other hand gripping her ass. She made needy little mewls into his mouth. He gave the side of her panties a tug.

  She tore her mouth from his. “Don’t rip them. They’re my favorite.”

  “Next time don’t wear any.”

  Her mouth slammed against his, her tongue darting inside. He held her by the jaw, taking over the kiss, his cock throbbing painfully against the confines of his jeans. He grabbed her hips with both hands, trying to lift her, desperate to get himself free and buried deep inside her, but she was clinging to him, her legs squeezing the sides of his. He gave up, instead working his fingers under the side of her panties and thrusting inside.

  She threw back her head. “Yes!”

  Oh, God. Hang on, hang on, make it good for her. He sucked on the cord of her neck and gave her another finger, angling the way he knew would make her crazed. She got real noisy then. He let her ride for a while, getting more and more turned on by her throaty cries, probably one thrust was all it would take to get him off.

  “Now, now,” she said. “Inside me.” She leaned back and fumbled with the button on his jeans.

  “I got it.”

  A hard rap sounded on the driver’s side window, making him jump and Carrie yelp. Fuck. A flashlight shone in his eyes, probably a cop. He quickly shifted Carrie back to her seat, where she wiggled down her dress.

  “Open the door,” a male voice ordered. “Police.”

  “Omigod,” Carrie whispered.

  He opened the driver’s side door and the flashlight shone on Carrie’s face. She probably couldn’t see anything but the glare of white light. “You okay, ma’am?” The much softer tone with a hint of a smirk told him who he was dealing with—Ethan. His honorary brother and pain-in-the-ass cop friend.

  “Yes, Officer,” Carrie replied. She was probably too startled to put it together yet. Ethan did sound very official.

  “Would you like assistance out of this vehicle, ma’am?” Ethan asked.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  “You,” Ethan barked, shining the flashlight in Zach’s eyes. “Out of the truck and keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Zach gritted his teeth.

  Carrie rushed to his defense. “Officer, please, this was all my idea.”

  “Sir, please step out of the vehicle,” Ethan ordered quite convincingly.

  “It’s my fault!” Carrie cried.

  Zach let out an exasperated breath, stepped out of the truck, shut the door, and faced Ethan in full alpha mode—feet spread apart, hands on hips, deadeye stare. That Ethan was the one who taught him how to stare down trouble might’ve made it less effective.

  Ethan squared off with him, getting in his face like he was about to tell him off. Then he smirked. “She’s watching.”

  “Make it good.”

  “I’ll keep the flashlight where she can see us both,” he said under his breath. Then he straightened and barked, “You know I’m within my rights to haul you out of here for trespassing. Signs are clearly posted saying the park is closed.”

  “Arrest me,” he challenged.

  Carrie opened the passenger-side door and poked her head out. “Everything okay? I can vouch for him.”

  They both turned to look at her.

  “Ethan?” she asked. Carrie knew all the guys through Mad Campbell.

  “Hi, Carrie,” Ethan said casually. “I’ll work this out with Zach. Get back in the truck.”

  “Ethan!” Carrie chided. “You scared the bejeezus out of me!”

  Zach bit back a smile. Even when she was mad, she was just so damn cute.

  Ethan dipped his head. “Ma’am, just doing my job.”

  “Ugh! Men!” She got back in the truck and slammed the door.

  Ethan shook his head, smiling and enjoying his part in this outdoor venture a little too much.

  “You’re such a cockblock,” Zach snapped.

  Ethan chuckled. “What’re you doing taking her to your old high school make-out spot? You’ve got a fucking bed now.”

  He spoke in a low tone. “She wanted a little thrill from, you know, being out in public. I’m helping her out with some edgier stuff.”

  Ethan laughed. “You?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Ethan slowly shook his head. “I can’t believe she picked a professor of all people for a little edgy sex.”

  Zach flipped him the bird and turned to go.

  Ethan grabbed his arm. “All right. Don’t get your tweed in a bunch. I’ve got some ideas to help you out.”

  Zach shook him off. “I don’t need ideas.” He had a very specific wish list to follow.

  Ethan ignored that. “Give her elevator sex. She works at Eastman hospital. Take her in the service elevator.”

  Zach studied him for a moment. “And how do you know about this service elevator?”

  Ethan smirked. “Had to review the security tapes once. Sex central, man.”

  “Ass.”

  Ethan snorted. “Hey, maybe a sex tape.”

  “I’m going now, unless you’re planning to arrest me.”

  Ethan socked his arm. Hard. “Just trying to help you out.”

  Zach socked him back. Harder.

  Ethan chuckled. “Taking her to your old high school haunt. I mean, really. Use some imagination.”

  “You done?”

  “Yes, Professor. Carry on your merry way.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked back to the truck, pissed at Ethan’s implication that he was a wuss. No more accommodations. Carrie wanted bad boy and that was exactly what he’d give her. Put up or shut up time.

  ~ ~ ~

  Carrie wasn’t sure what to say after that weird almost “Sunday drive” interrupted by Ethan. Zach was silent, looking kind of pissed as he drove them out of the park.

  She broke the silence in an attempt to put a pleasant spin on the evening. “Well, I’m just glad you didn’t get arrested for trespassing.” Ethan had scared the crap out of her. Now that she thought about it, he probably recognized Zach’s truck. “He was just messing with you, wasn’t he?”

  Zach grunted in response.

  “So maybe we could just drive to another private spot.”

  “We’re going back to my place.”

  “Oh, okay. How about we—”

  “Carrie, I don’t take requests. You want this, you go back with me and we do things my way. You don’t, I’ll drop you off at your car.”

  She gulped. That was abrupt. Also a little thrilling. He sounded so badass.

  “You mean Jane Bond?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Time’s up once I park.”

  She didn’t have to think long. She was still revved up from earlier and the unexpected cop encounter had added a bit of danger. Now that everything had turned out okay, she was actually feeling really good. Charged up and
alive.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be Jane.”

  He reached over and gave her upper thigh a small squeeze, his long fingers curling intimately around the inside of her leg. Her body responded with a pulsing throb.

  She let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t much for conversation, but he got his point across in a direct primal way. His thigh squeeze told her two things—he was happy with her decision and he was also reassuring her that it would be a good time. Somehow he knew exactly what she needed to hear.

  When they got back to his place, he put a hand on the small of her back and guided her directly to his bedroom. Once inside, he shut the bedroom door, grabbed her and pinned her against it. The breath whooshed from her lungs and her stomach dropped. He pinned her wrists over her head and kissed her, his leg nudging hers apart and pressing close. The jumpiness in her belly shifted to a low ache.

  He released her wrists and guided her arms back to her sides. “Don’t be nervous.” His voice was low and gruff, his eyes hot on hers. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  Goose bumps shivered along her skin. “Okay,” she whispered, the word muffled in the fabric of her dress flying over her head.

  He swore, his eyes glued to her now exposed cleavage. “I can be gentle,” he muttered, more to himself than her. He slid the bra straps down her shoulders, then softly traced the line from her neck to shoulder, bringing more goose bumps racing over her skin, then across her collarbone and dipping into her cleavage. He groaned, undid the front clasp and sent the bra flying. He cupped her breasts with both hands, his thumbs stroking the hard peaks and then pinching them. She melted against the door, her eyes closing, surrendering to the intense pleasure.

  He nipped her neck roughly and her eyes flew open. He nuzzled the side of her neck, his soft beard grazing her sensitive skin, heightening the sensations of his warm lips and sharp teeth, kissing and nipping, the intensity building as his hands roamed all over her. She moaned softly, aching for more.

  “Take off your clothes too,” she said urgently.

  Instead he slid her panties down and off. Then he clamped a hand around her wrist and pulled her to the bed. He yanked back the covers, and then he was kissing her hungrily, guiding her down, under him. She wrapped her arms around him, eager for the closeness again, for his kisses that made her mindless with passion and pure need.