Asshole's Bride (Bad Boy Romance)

by Amy Faye

  Asshole's Bride

  Bad Boy Romance

  Amy Faye

  Published by Heartthrob Publishing

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  Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…

  Holding her body easily, he brings her into his house and locked the door behind them. “Where to now?”

  “Up the stairs,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “To my bedroom.”

  “Really?” He asked, surprised.

  She nodded. “This isn't going to be a regular thing, so don't get any ideas, but you're my hero tonight. And I think it would do us some good to, you know. Get it over with.”

  “Right,” he said. “Duty.”

  She took his face between her hands and kissed his lips. “This isn't just about duty. I do want to sleep with you. Please, take me. If anyone's going to be my first, I would rather it be you.”

  His tongue skimmed her trembling lips as they kissed again. Needing him was making her incredibly uncomfortable, but she had to admit that she did need him. Desperately. Not just as a protector, but she needed him beside her in bed. She needed inside her, too. Her stomach was starting to flutter with butterflies as he carried her up the steps. Roman's tail thumped on the couch as they passed by, but he remained there, not following them up the stairs.

  His hands pressed against her hip, feeling her curves. His very touch made her panties moisten. The sound of his breath enthralled her.

  Once they reached the bedroom, he looked at her curiously. "Set me down," she said. He left her on the bed, then stepped away. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm not going to do anything you aren't ready for me to do."

  "Well, I'm ready for you to touch me," she said, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her breast. "Here."

  He slowly grabbed her breasts, probing delicately at her soft flesh. Rubbing lightly, he made her wriggle beneath his attention.

  Her most primal needs were stirring with rapid, shallow breaths. Troy seemed to perceive her desire, pushing on her chest to force her to lay down.

  Taking her dress, ruined though it was, he pushed the skirt up to her knees, then to her hips. She pressed her feet against the bed so that he could slip it beneath her ass, letting the bottom rest on her stomach.

  Grasping her knees, he eased them apart then slipped her ankles over his shoulders. Hot lips pressed to her calves, kissing up to her knees then her thighs, alternating back and forth from her left leg to her right until he found his prize.

  Pushing her silky, cream colored panties to the side, his tongue immediately dipped and swirled into her folds.

  She felt dazed and mellowed as he licked the hard nub that held so many pleasant nerves inside. "Oh, Troy," she gasped, gripping her sheets. "That feels soooo good. Please don't stop."

  He chuckled into her mound, kissing the lips and pushing his tongue into the hole. Her legs clamped around his head in the fervor of her response.

  Her hot honey started to pour onto his tongue, her eyes slid shut in ecstasy. She was going to have her first orgasm given by someone else.

  With quivering thighs and a cry of release, she shuddered an orgasm.

  “We can stop now, if you want,” he said.

  “No! Keep going! Keep touching me, please!” She begged. She didn't want him to leave her alone. His touch was everything she wanted, her only desire and need then.

  He looked up into her eyes, and she saw the heart rending tenderness that was held in them. If her parents had learned to love one another, couldn't she do the same with Troy?

  “Stand up, let me help you get that dress off,” he said. The underlying sensuality of his words made the breath catch in her throat. The release from her orgasm was gone, and her body was tensing up with desire once again.

  She stood and his hand brushed against her shoulder. He cupped her face, touched his lips to hers again, then to her neck. His hands gripped her dress and pulled it up, quickly, over her head.

  “That was easier to take off than it was to get on,” she muttered. A grin flashed across his face, then he pulled her in for a hug. His fingers fiddled with the metal clasps of her bra until they finally came free. She kept her head against his chest, breathing in his scent.

  Using her hands, she popped the buttons of his coat, then his shirt. He slid both off of his shoulders, revealing his strong, powerful torso once again. Her mouth found his skin, kissing his pecks and down to his abs.

  A groan came from his mouth as she unbuckled his belt, then undid his pants. They slid down easily, and he stepped out of them, leaving only his boxer briefs to be removed.

  She pressed her hand against the beast beneath that thin fabric, but he slipped a finger beneath his chin. “Stand up. Let me finish undressing you. I want to see you.”

  She blushed and stood, allowing his eyes to find her breasts for the first time. The tips of his fingers brushed against her nipples, making them stiffen with a sigh. Then he fell to his knees, catching her panties with his fingers and slowly, achingly pulling them down her long thighs and to the floor. Her shoes came off last, with a kiss to each toe.

  He kissed up her calf again, then her thigh, and pressed his lips to her pelvis, burying them in the brown pubic hair. His brazen hands gripped her bare ass, squeezing it and eliciting a squeal from her.

  Something intense flared within her as he guided her to the bed once again. She was about to be taken by him, and there was no turning back from that. Once he had her, she was his. She knew that, then, and it unsettled her. Her unwanted devotion, bubbling up from deep within her psyche, scared her.

  Pressing his hands against her thighs, he opened them to him again. Standing between them, he pulled down his boxer briefs and unleashed the monster that rested within. It was already hard and the hood glistened with precum.

  She gasped. “It's bigger than I remember!” She said, sitting up. Or, trying to. He pressed her back down.

  “Stay there. This is going to hurt, but I'll go slow. After a few strokes, it will probably feel just fine.”

  She nodded. “I've used a toy, before, so it might not,” she said.

  She was wrong.

  It was the size of his cock, not the fact that she was a virgin, that caused the pain. As he pressed the tip into her, it stretched her to the point of discomfort. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed his arms and dug her nails in.

  “You look scared. Do you want me to stop?” His voice was tender, gentle, and patient.

  She shook her head. “Keep going. You just have to – Oh!” The head popped in, then, and as she was about to say, everything became much easier after that. Slowly, slowly, he pushed into her until his testicles rested against her.

  She squirmed under him, the discomfort slowly fading away. He pulled out a little, then thrust back in. The shallow thrusts helped to replace the pain with pleasure. Soon, she was gliding her own hips against his, moving in time with him.

  Taking her left ankle, he put it over his shoulder and repositioned her. “Fuck, you're tight,” he groaned. Giving her a controlled thrust, he moved within her more easily while his clever hands kneaded her breasts. Her nipples were pinched before his pointer fingers and his middle fingers.

  Abruptly, she was gathered up. He held her so that their bodies touched in almost every spot while he pounded into her. “Oh, oh,” she cried, wrapping her arms around his masculine neck. “This feels so incredible!”

  “Better than one of your toys, I hope,” he smirked, kissing her collar bone.

  “Soooo much better!” She said. Being with him felt amazing, and she wanted it to never end.


  He pushed slowly in, then slowly out, their hips meeting together at the apex, their mouths tasting and sucking on skin and lips. She groaned with her eyes tightly shut as another orgasm rolled through her. Troy's loud grunt signaled his own orgasm, as he spilled his milky white cum deep inside of her.

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  To be brave, by definition, one has first to be afraid.

  – Robert Harris

  Chapter 1

  Elle

  Life was weird and unpredictable, even for the most conservative of people. It could go from simple, slow, boring and lonely to full of life and chaos, family and friendships in only a few hours. It could bring unknown loves or surprising pain. The news of death came as easily as the news of a new baby.

  So many things would happen to Elle in such a short time, and she had no idea. All she knew was that she was dreading going back to school.

  First day back at school and I'm already stressed out of my mind, Elle thought as she played with a lock of her blonde hair. She stood still behind the long front desk that hotel patrons would come to, to check in.

  She had been working at the hotel for the past two years of college. The job wasn't stressful. Now and then she had to put up with rude people or someone upset that they didn't have the right number of pillows on their bed, but aside from that, it was easy.

  It was the going to school part that freaked her out. Starting her practicum with the local library didn't help, either, especially since it was unpaid and she only got it because her mother had once worked there. Having to meet the expectations that Elle's mom created was going to be nearly impossible.

  So I have to suffer through 2 jobs, plus schooling, for one year. One year and I'll have access to the money mom and dad left me, which will pay for food long enough for me to get my Masters and start getting paid for working at a library.

  She sighed. No matter how she tried to settle herself down, she hated school enough that her breath would come fast and her chest would start to ache.

  Looking around, it was clear that no one was going to come up to her and ask for help in the next ten seconds. She ducked below the desk and grabbed her purse, pulling out a bottle of pills and a water bottle.

  She tried not to take her anti-anxiety medications often. Her doctor told her it was fine if she had to take if every day she had class, but she actually went most of last year without taking it. She only needed it for finals.

  It was unlikely that quitting her job would give her much relief. True, she felt most herself at home with a book, but being at home with a book didn't expose her to new situations so that she might actually cope with anxiety better.

  At least, that's what her therapist said, before she had to quit seeing her because she just didn't have the money. That was the story of her life: needing things, and never being able to pay for them. She needed a new car; couldn't buy one. She needed a textbook for school; she had to pirate one.

  She gulped down the pill with a swig of water. They didn't taste great, but the pills did the job. Before she could stand back up, she heard someone clear their throat.

  Peering over the top of the counter, she found a beautiful man holding a leather jacket and a small backpack in the crook of his arm in front of her. There was an inherent strength to his face, the set of his chin stubborn, but his features were strained with an uneasy smile.

  Standing up, she noticed that he held a dog on a leash. It was a big one, black and brown, panting and drooling on the carpet that had been cleaned just last week. If she weren't at work, she would have probably asked him if she could pet the dog. But she was at work, and she had some bad news for the man.

  “Oh, um, unfortunately we have a no pets policy at The Clinton,” Elle said, preparing herself to be berated. “I can give you a list of kennels nearby if –”

  “The dog's staying,” the man said, keeping his ice blue eyes on her. The strained smile fell away, his face becoming deadly serious. To her, he seemed like the kind of man no one should mess with.

  Elle sighed inwardly at her bad luck. It had been an otherwise calm day, but this situation was threatening to ruin that. “I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. We only allow service dogs.”

  “Roman is a service dog,” he said, crossing his arms. “He's staying.”

  It was becoming clear that Elle was going to need to call her manager. She picked up the phone, but the man pressed two fingers on it to keep it down, sighing. When he pulled away, he rummaged in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out papers. “I wasn't lying, lady. He's a therapy dog, fully trained, and he's staying or I'm going to raise hell.”

  Elle looked over the papers, and they seemed legit enough. Plastering an apologetic smile on her face, she nodded. “Okay, then! That's perfectly fine, and I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. I've just never seen a dog like that as a service dog. What breed is he?”

  “Rottweiler and German Shepherd mix. Can I get the key to my room now?” The man had no patience. He was starting to rub her the wrong way.

  God, this guy's a dick, Elle thought. And he's completely negating the effect of my pills. Great. “Sure thing. I just need your name.”

  “Troy Whitemarsh.” He was tapping his fingers on the desk, looking around the room. No doubt trying to catch a manager as they came out, to complain about her. She typed a bit faster, just to get him upstairs and away from her just that tiny bit sooner.

  “Okay, Troy, we have you here for just one night. Here are a few papers with hotel rules, and a list of phone numbers in case you need anything. Room service runs until 10 pm, night service costs more, and checkout is at noon. Do you need anything else before you head up.” She used her most professional, sweetest voice.

  “Definitely not from you, lady.” He waved dismissively as he turned around, his long legs taking him towards the elevator. She rolled her eyes, but checked out his ass as he left. I can't believe I ever thought that jackass was good looking. Then again, I always had such great taste in men.

  Clucking her tongue at herself, she resolved not to think about the bad mistakes she made before. She was stressed enough as it was. She didn't need to remind herself why she was such a friendless loser in high school.

  Eventually, her pills did start to calm her down, and it was nearly time for her to clock out when one of her coworkers ran out from the kitchen with something red on her.

  “Elle! Brandy just cut herself really bad in the kitchen. The guy in room 801 needs to have his lunch taken up to him. I know you're about to leave, but can you run it up before you clock out?” He looked about ready to pass out, and she knew he hated the sight of blood.

  The tray and table she had brought out didn't have a speck of blood on it, thank God. Elle nodded and grabbed it, heading towards the elevator.

  Troy

  Troy entered his hotel room and immediately sat on the couch, not even looking at his surroundings. He would only be spending a night there, at most. He just needed to see his grandmother and then get back up to Michigan.

  Roman's leash was still held in his shaking fist. He took deep breaths, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Breathe in, one, two, three. Breath out, one, two, three.

  Roman nuzzled against his thigh, looking up at his master with knowing, kind eyes. Troy continued his breathing until his chest had stopped aching and his eye stopped twitching. The shaking hands were going to last a while. He should have refilled his prescription.

  There was no money for pills, but he should have done… something. Sold something. Sold himself, if he needed to. It was impossible to function without the medication.

  As soon as he felt under control of his emotions, he placed a hand on Roman's head. Threading his fingers through the dog's coarse fur, he focused on the repetition of petting him. The dog's tail slapped against the floor. “I'm a mess, huh, boy?” He asked the dog, but the dog offered no condemn
ation. Only loving eyes.

  They remained in that position, that repetitive motion, for a good long time until the world made sense to Troy again. No more flashbacks.

  When that woman at the front popped up from behind the desk, Troy's mind took him back to 6 months ago, when he nearly got blown to smithereens by a female suicide bomber. His best friend wasn't as lucky as Troy had been. He died as Troy was trying to drag him away, bleeding out into the craggy, sand-covered stone road.

  With a whine, Roman reminds Troy to keep petting him. Smiling, genuinely that time, Dean leaned back and invited the pup onto the couch with him. He was sure that it was against the rules, even for therapy dogs, but he didn't give a fuck. Let them come and yell at him.

  Anyway, he wasn't going to stay in the room much. He was here to see his grandmother, ask to borrow some money and find out why she called him out to Arizona, and then make it back to Michigan in time to yell at his VA about refusing to pay his medical bills.

  So many medical bills. PTSD was a bitch, and he was drowning in the hardships the flashbacks caused. He couldn't hold down a job, though his psychiatrist swore up and down he would be able to in only a few months. He couldn't get the VA to listen to him, even though that was their damn job. His landlady? Yeah, she wasn't going to listen to his excuses either. He'd punched a hole or two into her walls, she was looking for a reason to kick him out.

  Not that he didn't deserve it. He was as frustrated as any of them over his lack of self control. It was turning into self hatred, never a good thing. Considering he wasn't a drinker or a smoker, and he certainly did not do drugs, there were few things he could devote himself to.

  So he devoted himself to his dog, and to running. Some video games here and there helped, too. Even though he played shooters, they helped to soothe him, gave him a sense of control over the memories that seemed to be conspiring against him.

  “The lady was nice on the eyes, though, wasn't she?” Troy asked Roman, who sniffed his hand and gave it a lick. “Wouldn't mind bending her over this couch and fucking her brains out.”