Chasing Bad Boys 6_A Bad Boy Romance Series

by Kylie Parker

  “But, when I mentioned her name, you pretended not to know her. Why?” she went on. Dean smiled at her.

  “Ok, picture this…” He turned his head to the right and faced her, placing his arm on the back of the couch.

  “Kate Stinson? Sure, I know her. What a fine piece of ass. I seduced her on the night of her bachelorette party. Oh my God! You’re friends with her?” He grinned throughout his prose. When he finished, Dean stuck his tongue out in disgust.

  “Yeah, that’s how you’d react, Isabelle. I’m pretty sure you’d just walk out on me, and I didn’t want that.” He raised his voice, attempting to justify his actions.

  “Ok. Fair enough. Why did you move here?” Isabelle’s tone was firm. It was as if she was interrogating him.

  “My Uncle James and his wife Helen live down the street. I can take you there tomorrow if you like.” Dean was calm and composed. It seemed like nothing she asked could cause him any discomfort.

  “Kate said there are no more Marshalls in the neighborhood. Was she lying?”

  “No. My Aunt Helen is my father’s sister. She took her husband’s name: Livingston. Happy now?” Dean had a smug look on his face.

  “I got one last question. What happened tonight that was so important?” Dean’s smile disappeared. He averted his gaze from her, as he turned his head to the left and faced the wall.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but they’re getting a divorce. I’m the only family they got here, and I bought this house just to be close to them,” his voice broke. Dean went on to put his hands on his face and stroke his cheeks, briefly.

  “Oh, my God! What have I done?

  “Dean! Dean, I’m so sorry… God, I’m so sorry I asked you that. You didn’t have to answer me…” Realizing her mistake, Isabelle lowered her voice and hugged him. She had not seen him in an emotional state yet. According to her friends, Dean was nothing more than a heartless brute that would do anything to persuade a girl to sleep with him.

  “They couldn’t be more wrong…

  Isabelle stared at him while her left hand brushed against his left shoulder before it landed on his cheek. He would not face her. Dean appeared to be thinking hard.

  “Dean…” she whispered, drawing his attention. He slowly turned his head to the right and faced her.

  “My friends have misjudged you… Again, I’m very sorry about your aunt’s divorce.” Isabelle could not stop apologizing. With his fingers interlocked, Dean had to stop her.

  “Don’t be. You know what?” he asked her, slightly raising his tone.

  “I really don’t care about your friends’ opinion. They don’t know me. I don’t know them. Ok, I spent a night with Kate. I know I probably shouldn’t have done that. She was getting married in two days. But, I never forced her into anything, Isabelle. It was consensual. If she wanted, she could have said no. She didn’t…” Once again, his deep voice filled her ears. Dean was oozing with confidence, and he was not afraid to speak his mind.

  “Wanna know my opinion?” she asked him, in a playful tone.

  Yeah,” he hummed. “It’s important to me,” he continued. Isabelle’s heart was filled with joy. She loved the fact that she mattered to him.

  “I think you’re a very handsome, ambitious young man who prefers to do things his way. When you want something, you just go for it. I also think you’re a great, thoughtful lover. You make me feel special. I love that…” She gave him a big smile. He responded by leaning towards her. Isabelle felt his hot, wet lips on her mouth.

  “Thanks…” Ending their kiss, Dean caressed her right cheek, using his left hand. Kate then ran the fingers on her right hand across his forearm, placing her palm on his hand.

  “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Marshall. Why don’t you dim the lights and put on some of that sexy music you like? I wanna make it up to you…” she whispered.

  “That’s a pretty good idea.” He responded.

  “You see that tiny remote on my desk? Hand it over to me, will ya?”

  “Yes, sir…” Isabelle agreed and got up. She sensually swayed her hips on her way to his desk. Then, she threw the small, white remote control to him and waited patiently. The cabinet on the wall across them slid open sideways, revealing a stereo system. Isabelle remembered the music on the speakers in that sauna. She found it unbelievable that several of the songs she had heard that day turned her on even more. They were slow, sensual, and pretty much ideal for a sexy striptease.

  “You should know, Mr. Marshall; I’m in charge here.” Her sexy voice was the last thing they both had heard before the music started.

  Dean dimmed the lights. The first song on his playlist was Enigma’s “Sadeness.” She took a closer look at his office and caught a glimpse of the CD that was playing: “Enigma – The Best of Enigma.” Isabelle started her show by walking towards him, strutting like a model on a catwalk, moving one foot in front of the other confidently. She held her head high and kept her shoulders back, letting her chest be the front-and-center. She also kept her right hand on her right hip. Maintaining eye contact, she stopped and gyrated her body over the side of the wall behind him, before returning to the center of the room, where she had started her show. Isabelle kept her lips slightly parted; the gorgeous flight attendant looked very sultry indeed.

  Meanwhile, Dean seemed to be enjoying her show. He had leaned forward towards her, with his right elbow on his right leg, stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger.

  Isabelle gyrated a little by moving her hips up and down, twelve feet across him, just a foot away from his desk. Sliding her hands up and down both sides of her body, she caressed her hips and her stomach. Then, she turned around, bent forward slightly and hooked her thumbs into her strapless dress. She wore no bra; she only had a red lace thong on. With her backside turned to Dean, she rolled down her dress. It fell to the floor. She kicked it aside, covering her breasts with her left forearm.

  After that, she pulled the chair on her left closer and moved around a little more, by walking on both sides of the chair. Pressing herself against the back of the chair, she continued to move up and down, while caressing her upper thighs and her hips. Isabelle tossed her hair back and licked her lips, maintaining her sultry expression. She stopped less than a foot to the right of the chair. Looking up at the ceiling, she caressed her breasts; she was having a great time.

  At the same time, Dean had laid back on the couch. His left hand was on his shorts, stroking the bulge in his crotch.

  Isabelle placed her right foot on the chair. She leaned forward and stroked her leg with both hands, always maintaining eye contact with Dean. She gave him a sexy smile, before repeating the same thing with her left leg. Isabelle would not take off her 4-inch high heels. Witnessing the effect of her sensual striptease on him, a naughty thought crossed her mind.

  “I wanna see him play with himself. God, I wanna watch him masturbate.

  “Get your cock out…” she silently mouthed to him. Of course, Dean loved the idea. After that, she put her hands on her breasts and turned around, showing him her bare back. Isabelle went on to hook her thumbs on her red, lace thong. Pulling it down slowly, she looked over her right shoulder. Dean was jerking his cock up and down, in a rather quick pace. He absolutely loved her show. She was not done yet, though.

  “I’m getting so wet. Look at that huge cock… God, I wanna feel him inside me…

  Now completely naked, Isabelle turned to her right and licked her lips. She sat in the chair, raising her legs high in the air. Then, she kicked her heels away, one at a time, before she began to caress her legs, from top to bottom, with both hands. Her nails dug into the flesh of her thighs.

  “Oh, yeah…” With the sound of Enigma’s “Callas Went Away” ringing in her ears, she heard a loud groan. It was Dean, now masturbating really, really hard. By that time, her pussy was so wet that they could even skip foreplay. She rose from the chair and turned around, exposing her naked body. She leaned forward and placed her for
earms on the desk, spreading her legs at the same time. Isabelle looked at Dean over her right shoulder. He was scanning her body from bottom to top. The pale light was enough for her to see some drops of sweat on his forehead. A second later, she curled her index finger.

  Dean literally jumped from his seat and ran towards her. He stopped behind her and leaned forward, pressing his body onto hers. It did not take long for Isabelle to sense his stiff, throbbing cock on her butt crack.

  “You’re the sexiest thing, alive. Now, I’m in charge…” he whispered in her right ear. His hot breath sent shivers down her spine. Isabelle extended her arms and grabbed onto the other side of the desk, expecting a fast and furious penetration. But, no. Before long, the tip of his tongue was in the middle of her back, traveling down her spine, at an agonizingly slow pace. Every tiny hair on her body was raised. His licking was so sensual that she had to bite her lower lip.

  “Oh, my God!” Isabelle could not take it anymore. If she kept biting her lip that hard, she would soon be bleeding. She tightened her grip on the desk, sensing his index fingers on each side of her midsection. The tingles she was feeling all over her body turned into orgasmic waves, coursing throughout her limbs when Dean’s hot lips reached her ass. He kissed and squeezed it greedily. The soft music in her ears was not enough to muffle the sounds of his sloppy kisses.

  “Awwww! Fuck, that’s it!” A loud moan escaped her, upon sensing his tongue on her entrance. Her lover was now licking her delicious pussy lips, with his hands still on her ass. Isabelle needed his cock inside her, fast. But, she had to wait. Dean was a perfectionist.

  Less than two minutes later, he pushed his tongue into her soaking wet pussy and spread her butt cheeks. His pace was fast almost immediately. He even went on to flick his tongue inside her, laying sloppy kisses on her ass every few seconds.

  “I’m cumming… Oh, my God, I’m cumming!” Isabelle’s voice echoed in the empty corridor. She climaxed in spasms of orgasmic pleasure, banging her hands on Dean’s desk one at a time. Sensing her pussy juices on his tongue, Dean quickly got up and leaned towards her.

  “Wanna see how much I liked your little show?” Dean whispered in her right ear before he sensually licked her lobe.

  “Isabelle?” His deep, sexy voice filled her ears, as she tingled again.

  “Give it to me!” she begged him. Then, she heard him smile. Dean stood behind her and rubbed his cock on her butt crack. She was so aroused that she kept pushing her crotch against his cock. A second later, she felt his cock at her entrance. Isabelle looked at him over her left shoulder. She wanted to see his face as he penetrated her. To no avail. Just when he began to push his massive cock inside her, she could not help but close her eyes and tilt her head back.

  “Oh, my God. Come on, pound me, baby. Fuck me from behind…” she groaned. Dean’s left hand grabbed her by the hip. He then used his right hand to grab her hair and pull it towards him. Isabelle was not the kind of woman who would talk dirty during sex. Yet, the whole thing had turned her on so much that she soon lost control. Being dominated by him, she opened her mouth wide. Her dripping wet pussy soon engulfed his entire cock.

  Having loved her show earlier, Dean started pounding her from behind. It took less than five seconds for Isabelle to hear his big balls slapping against her big, gorgeous ass, even with the music on. She was desperate to see the tension on his face. Therefore, Isabelle looked at him, over her right shoulder this time. He was an incredible sight to see: Sweat was dripping from his brow, all the way down to his cheeks. His shoulder muscles seemed to shine in the pale light, with more drops of sweat on them. She loved it; yet, she wanted to see more. Licking her lower lip, she got her answer when Dean leaned forward and filled her up, pressing his body against hers. His entire midsection was drenched in sweat. Luckily for her, his hands were not wet at all. Dean was able to maintain his firm grip on her hips.

  “I’m cumming again. Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m cumming again!” she groaned, even louder this time. Their moans were filling the room. Isabelle climaxed for the second time that night, with Dean’s immense manhood deep inside her and his hands on her butt cheeks, squeezing them hard, one at a time. After a few, short thrusts, he pulled out and came hard on her ass. His orgasm was so intense that semen landed on her back, more than six inches above her butt crack. Dean collapsed onto her, in a desperate attempt to catch his breath.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I think we should do that more often…” Dean murmured. He was on the exact spot as before, during Isabelle’s striptease. This time, though, his girlfriend was lying on the couch, having placed her head on his lap.

  “Gladly…” she purred. His phone rang. It was on the other end of the couch. After Isabelle had handed it over to him, he answered:

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, kid. It’s me…”

  “Uncle James, what’s wrong?” Dean was not expecting any phone calls in the middle of the night.

  “Listen up, Dean. I’m about to do something, and I want you to come over. It’s…”

  At that moment, the line went dead. Isabelle and Dean felt the floor vibrating violently for a split second. The young man looked outside, through the window. At that moment, a loud, blast explosion lit up the horizon…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “No…!” Dean yelled. He flipped around and hurtled towards the door to his study. Not knowing who was on the other line of the phone, Isabelle could only sit on the couch and watch, as Dean left the room. By the time she reached the corridor, Dean had already opened the third door to the left and was getting dressed.

  “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” She could not keep her voice down.

  “I can’t talk about it right now…” Dean quickly put on a shiny-black sweat suit and stormed out of the room. If the young woman wanted to find out more about what had just transpired, she had no choice but to get dressed and follow him. In less than two minutes, she was running down the stairs. When she reached the door, Isabelle heard the engine of his BMW M3 revving and its tires screeching.

  Dean had ditched her for the second time that night. Isabelle opened the front door, and a bright light on her left drew her attention. More than 300 yards down “Actors Colony Road”, something was on fire: Isabelle saw huge flames on the horizon.

  “What the hell happened there?

  Desperate to catch up with Dean, she soon found herself running on the sidewalk, on the left side of the road. In her high heels, though, Isabelle quickly realized that she would probably trip and fall. So, she slowed down and chose to walk instead. Still more than two hundred yards away, Isabelle’s nostrils were filled with a very familiar smell: Aviation fuel.

  Meanwhile, Dean reached his aunt’s estate and parked his car right next to the mangled, front gate. Within seconds, the young man discovered just how powerful that explosion had been: Even though it had taken place more than fifty yards away and to the left of the house, the right side of the light-brown, arch-shaped gate had been completely torn off the wall and was blasted more than thirty feet away. The left side of the front gate was twisted. Facing his house, his uncle’s blown-up Cessna was lying in ruins on the 800ft-long runway, seventy yards away from Peconic Bay.

  Dean opened his car door and raced towards the runway. Approaching the site, he smelled what he dreaded the most: Burnt flesh. He was terrified for his uncle’s life.

  “Uncle James?” he yelled, ten yards away from the smoldering ruins. Then, Dean lowered his eyes and noticed a straight line, starting from the rear of the plane towards the cockpit. It was still on fire. There was a fuel pump to the left, more than twenty feet away from the plane, lying on the ground and completely destroyed as well.

  Overwhelmed by the horrible smell, Dean had to pull up the jacket of his sweatsuit and cover his mouth. He began to search for his uncle. The thick, black smoke did not make it easier for him. Having left his cell phone back home, Dean had to rely on the fire itself for some light. Stand
ing over the remains of the tail section, he heard his aunt’s voice behind him:

  “James! Oh, my God!”

  Helen was 56 years old, 5’5”, 141lbs and had curly, shoulder-long, light-brown hair. She only wore a beige overcoat over her white pajamas.

  “Aunt Helen!” Dean yelled, grabbing his aunt by her right arm.

  “Dean! Help me find him! Please!” The young man certainly did not need any motivation to look for his beloved uncle. He could see the fear in his aunt’s hazel eyes as he pleaded him and felt his heart pounding in his chest.

  Ten seconds later, Dean picked up the sound of something heavy, dropping on the ground. He averted his gaze from the tail section and looked to his left. He saw a hand, pushing something that resembled a cockpit door, in an attempt to break free.

  “Uncle James!” He screamed at the top of his lungs and ran towards him. Upon reaching the spot, he sat on his knees and placed his hands on each side of the mangled cockpit door, picked it up and pushed it away. It was as Dean feared: His uncle was lying on the ground, badly burnt. He hardly resembled the 6ft-tall, green-eyed man Dean remembered: Chunks of his silver hair were missing, blood was dripping from his mouth, the skin on his left cheek was charred, and he had long, deep cuts on his right cheek. Furthermore, whatever clothes he had on been in shreds. Dean even noticed a diagonal, gushing wound on the left side of his midsection, two inches below his heart, reaching all the way down to his right hip.

  “D…Dean…” he whispered. Dean hastily picked up his uncle’s right hand and took it in his palms. It was covered in blood.

  “Uncle James…Stay with me. Help’s on its way…” Unwilling to give up hope, Dean tried to encourage him. James coughed once.

  “Stupid machines…” he coughed again. At that point, Dean heard footsteps; they belonged to his aunt.

  “Oh, my God! James, sweetheart, what happened to you?” She dropped to her knees on James’ right and put her hands on his face. His eyes were only partly open and he his breathing was short.