British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set

by Marissa Farrar

  Shocked at the sudden rejection, Harriet stood and stared at him. What the bloody hell was this guy’s problem? Didn’t all men act like their orgasm was a compulsory part of sexual proceedings? Harriet had never met a guy whose only intention was to give pleasure and not take it. There was something very odd about the situation. It bothered her.

  She waited for him to turn back but realised she was mistaken when he actually picked up the pace and stalked off down the path, disappearing out of sight in the trees.

  Fucking charming! Harriet didn’t know what to make of it all. She somehow felt more rejected than if he’d roughly fucked her up against the tree without her coming at all. She had no idea what time it was and her climax-fuelled adrenaline rush had now crashed to a jittery foul mood. Her ankle had started to throb and her cunt was cold and damp, it would be just like her to get bloody cystitis.

  She hobbled on down the path and was relieved to see her crutches still lying in the ditch next to the road. She had to take it fairly slowly and pins and needles were spreading from her underarms down to her elbows from the crutches jabbing giving her a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Or was that from replaying the encounter with Archie too many times.

  Maybe he was impotent and embarrassed. That would be tricky to broach. Yes he might have been almost wrist deep in her body, twice, but she was still a stranger to him. If she was just another conquest then, whatever, she’d take the best orgasms she’d ever had, even if there was no emotional connection. She could kind of see how it had its advantages though. If she wasn’t so naturally curious, she could have left it at that, but she knew her reporter’s brain would want to dig out the truth.

  Harriet continued her journey painful and slow and resigned herself to the fact that she’d well and truly missed lunch at the hotel and would have to wait ages for dinner, when a horn tooted behind her and she turned to see a shabby green Bentley pull up.

  “Still in pain I see,” the jovial voice of Doctor Scott called out in a much too cheery and somewhat unconcerned way. “Off to the hotel are we? Hop on in, there’s a good girl.”

  Harriet was relieved to see him but not quite so much after the doctor huffed whisky breath all over her as she prodded the seatbelt catch into place.

  “Oh, don’t bother with that thing, hasn’t worked for years!” he said swerving to take a corner which seemed to have happened upon him quite unexpectedly. “Good walk? Lovely day for it, though don’t think that leg of yours would have enjoyed it quite so much.”

  “Oh yes, I was just getting some fresh air.”

  The car lurched again around the next corner only to career out of the way of the only other pedestrian on the road. The brakes screeched and Harriet braced as the car judder-banged to an abrupt halt in the ditch.

  “I say, that’s…”

  “Archie MacDonald,” Harriet muttered putting a tentative palm to the back of her neck.

  “Yes,” he said, reaching past Harriet to roll down the window, his sharp tweedy elbows poking at her chest, “I say, Archie, be a good chap and help me push this confounded thing out of here.”

  As Archie sauntered over, the doctor got out to join him in the ditch at the front of the car and they both placed their hands on the bonnet. Archie’s expression was hard and dark and he nodded his head once through the windscreen to motion Harriet to take the wheel.

  “Ah yes, good idea,” the doctor agreed. “Thank you, miss… um…”

  “Harriet,” Archie said looking exasperated.

  Harriet’s heart leapt as his gaze caught hers for the briefest of moments before he rolled his eyes and focussed down onto the task in hand.

  “Ready?” The doctor asked, his eyebrows rising above his glasses.

  Harriet nodded and Archie shrugged impatiently.

  “Goodo.” Doctor Scott nodded. “And three, two, one, push.”

  Harriet jammed the gear stick into reverse and pressed down hard on the accelerator. As the two men shouting out, mud and grass splattered out from under the spinning tyres and covered them both from head to toe.

  If Archie’s expression was dark before, it was nothing to this. His eyebrows practically met in the middle and the sinews in his jaw twitched. A thrill ran through Harriet’s blood and she pressed the gas again calling, “Come on lads, you can do it, push!” out of the window.

  The doctor was taking things much more happily and a broad smile broke through his filthy face as the skidding wheels finally caught on the edge of the solid road and shot out of the ditch. Harriet hit the brakes and beckoned the men over, a laugh escaping her as she saw the full extent of their filth.

  The doctor staggered to the passenger door and got in, trying his best to keep the front of him off the leather upholstery.

  “I’ll walk,” Archie said, glowering at her, wiping a particularly large blob of mud from his chin.

  “Suit yourself.” Harriet felt quite empowered with her flippant reply but couldn’t resist calling out the window, “If you need a bath, there’s a lovely one in my en suite. I’ll meet you there.”

  She didn’t wait for his answer but as she drove off, she was happy to see a smile cross his face as she checked him out in the rear view mirror.

  ***

  “Will you be alright doctor?” Harriet asked as she lit the fire which was pre-stacked with kindling.

  “Yes, yes,” he called through from what Harriet assumed was his bedroom.

  She made him a cup of tea while he changed and washed up. Doctor Scott’s house was right above the surgery and was such a quintessentially British doctor’s pad that Harriet wished she’d brought her camera to bear witness to it. There was a full human skeleton in one corner and a globe in the other which Harriet would happily wager was actually a drink’s cabinet.

  As the doctor came through wrapped in a blanket and settled down into the wingback chair by the fire, Harriet passed him his tea.

  “Would you pop a tot in that for me, there’s a good girl.” He motioned to the sideboard where a half bottle of whisky was perched.

  Harriet splashed in a dash and poured one for herself.

  “Doctor, can I ask you something?”

  “Well, why not?” he replied.

  “What is wrong with Archie Macdonald?”

  “Wrong?” The doctor shuffled in his chair to allow him to face Harriet a bit better. “Do you mean apart from his dreadful reputation and his womanising?”

  “Well to be honest, his dreadful reputation only seems to be the womanising and shutting up a gobby reporter, no-one seems to have anything bad to say about him apart from that. And who wouldn’t want to enjoy themselves blessed with a body like his?”

  “Ah, what a thoroughly modern woman you are!”

  Wow. This really was a time warp. Harriet rolled her eyes.

  “Is there something more? Yes, I know he brings salmon from goodness knows where to the pub and I’m sure not all the logs he chops make it to the wood merchant or whatever he’s supposed to do with them,” she said casting a nod to the doctor’s woodpile as he blushed, “but these things are more Robin Hood than an evil bad boy. Is he trying to atone for something?”

  “I don’t quite follow.”

  “Oh never mind.” It was on the tip of her tongue to come out and ask the doctor but he probably wouldn’t say due to patient confidentiality. Oh fuck it, she thought as the words fell from her lips. “Is Archie impotent?”

  The doctor looked serious, locking eyes with Harriet.

  “Ah, well, if you’re asking me that question then there is something wrong with the fellow.”

  Harriet shuddered. “Like what?”

  “It means he’s still blaming himself.”

  “Blaming himself for what?”

  “I really oughtn’t say…”

  “Please, go on…”

  He sighed and took a swig of his hot tea and whisky mix before gazing into the fire.

  “Many years ago, when Archie was a young man, he fell in
love with a girl who’d moved here with her family. She was a beautiful thing, so free and wild. Her parents had brought her here to keep her away from the trouble in the town. She was what was known in those days as a nymphomaniac. Every young man’s dream I suppose. I only know this because her parents had brought her here to keep an eye on her. Try and break her of her condition by keeping her away from temptation. Trouble was, Archie Macdonald caught her eye and she his. They would sneak off together and make love in the moors and mountains, forests and glens, wherever they could. They were kindred spirits. I only found out the extent of their love over a long night of whisky with Archie shortly after…”

  He paused, taking another swig then carried on.

  “You see, they were spotted one day by the shepherd up near one of the cairns. He went straight to her father who beat her and locked her in her room vowing they’d move away within the week.”

  “How awful.” Harriet dipped her head to the side and settled deeper into the chair as the story continued.

  “Well, yes, it gets worse I’m afraid.” He glanced at Harriet with a sorrowful look. “She escaped the room but instead of running to Archie for solace, she took to the mountain and threw herself off the crags.”

  Blood ran from Harriet’s whisky rosy cheeks leaving her feeling chalky white.

  “Did she…?”

  “Oh yes, there was no saving her. But the worst part was that it was Archie who found her. All broken and twisted.”

  Harriet let out a gasp. “What a tragedy.”

  “The thing was, the girl’s parents had failed to understand that by letting her and Archie be together they’d have brought peace to their lives. They were falling in love and expressing it with their bodies. Yes, they had high sex drives but they matched. It was perfect. Archie had been the very same before he’d met her, having intercourse with whoever he could. Breaking hearts all over the highlands.”

  The doctor fell silent. He obviously had a soft spot for Archie who must have spent all his time since, building up barriers and defences. It made more sense now. He still wanted to give sexual pleasure but not take his own.

  Harriet felt sad for him. How isolating to have that guilt on his shoulders. She could understand that longing yet the inability to let it go enough to form new relationships, or even casual fucks that might bring it all back. Archie Macdonald was proving a much more interesting man than she’d first given him credit for. “What about the games? What about the reporter he assaulted?”

  “Ah yes, that reporter came round sniffing for a story but the village came together to shut it down. Archie only tapped the daft fellow. He had a huge career ahead of him but he seemed to lose heart after Eilidh.”

  “But he’s the UK champion,” Harriet said, “Surely he must have thrown himself into sport to help heal himself.”

  “Actually, he could have been something of international importance but after Eilidh died, he does just enough to win the UK bouts. He’s not interested in anything really. He knows his name brings the town honour and keeps the tourism flowing so he does it out of duty more than personal fulfilment or acclaim.”

  “Gosh.” Harriet sighed. “Well, I think I’ll hobble on up to the hotel.”

  “Yes, quite right. Thank you for the chat, I do enjoy receiving visitors.”

  Harriet swallowed down the last of the whisky and smiled her goodbyes to Doctor Scott.

  ***

  Harriet’s room wasn’t locked and a shudder crawled across her shoulders. She twisted the handle with a click and slowly pushed the door open, holding her breath. The room was exactly as she’d left it and as she stepped through the threshold she remembered she hadn’t popped back up after breakfast to lock it up. Her bag and phone were still flung over the chair at the dressing table and her clothes strewn over the bed. Oh well, the maids must only come in every couple of days.

  She popped the kettle on, an annoying ancient thing with a too short cable and spitting spout and took out a teabag from the tray. None of the fancy choices in the London hotels here—it was tea or coffee granules. She was grateful for the shortbread slices as she waited for the water to boil, her stomach rumbling. She had no idea of the time and as she turned to get her phone, a noise from the bathroom made her senses bristle.

  Someone was in there. If she held her breath and tried to stop the rising panic swooshing in her ears, she could almost hear them. It wasn’t much, the occasional tiny movement accompanied by a sluicing sound. Like the swell and ebb of a body of water. What the?

  She tottered as silently as she could to the door and wondered how it hadn’t hit her as soon as she’d walked into the room. Heat and steam were emanating from her en suite and she could smell the hotel bubble bath.

  For a second she couldn’t decide whether to call reception or blast in and confront the intruder.

  Before she could change her mind, she shoved the door open declaring, “Just what do you think you are doing?”

  “Ahh come on now lassie, you invited me, remember?”

  Archie Macdonald lay covered in bubbles in her bath.

  Harriet’s initial shock began to subside and even though she tried to stop it, her lips broke into a smile. “Yes, yes I did, didn’t I?”

  Archie’s face crinkled and his eyes sparkled. “What took you so long? I’ve been here for nearly an hour, the bloody hot water’s going cold and I’ve used all the bubble bath.”

  Harriet giggled. The sight of his muddy jeans lying in a heap on the floor with the belt snaking across it had her wanting. She couldn’t see any boxers and her pussy clenched at the thought of him going commando beneath his worker’s britches all day. Harriet made a decision. She undid her own jeans and shoved them down, her knickers too, trying as quickly as she could to yank them off over her dodgy ankle.

  She got in a bit of a muddle and heard water sploshing out over the side of the bath as a huge hand gripped her t-shirt at the side and pulled her off balance and backwards into the tub.

  The wave of bubbles and heat cascaded onto the floor and she laughed as Archie tried to haul her soaked top off as it clung stubbornly to her.

  She’d fallen onto him facing up so her naked ass pressed against his torso. Her lower legs were still dangling out the edge of the bath, pinned together by her jeans. She wriggled her feet trying to get the damn things off without hurting her leg and as she did, felt the silken bundle of flesh at her buttocks begin to swell and grow. She slowed the rhythm of her struggling, adding a hip twist into the mix to urge his erection on.

  He tensed, let go of her top and clutched at her arms instead.

  “Shh, it’s all right,” Harriet said as she slowly rotated her pelvis, jamming her backside against his hardening cock. “Go with it, it’s okay.”

  His grip relaxed a tiny bit and he released her arms slowly, taking his palms around to her breasts kneaded the bubbly hot water onto them.

  A surge of desire ran through Harriet and she picked up the pace with her grinding, encouraged by the ever-increasing length and girth which was now pressing between her arse cheeks.

  “Ah, yes that’s it,” she said, easing up and down his shaft. She pulled her feet with the jeans dangling off them into the bath and bucked around to allow her body to ride up enough to catch the tip of his dick with her pussy.

  The water was undulating around them in time with their movements.

  Harriet gripped the roll top of the bath to keep her position perfect.

  Archie thumbed and massaged at her tits and everything was heavenly.

  “I’m going to fuck you now,” she said when the very tip of his head pressed at her entrance.

  She panicked when his right hand left her nipple. Was he going to throw her off him? For a moment, she really thought he was, until his thick fingers snaked their way down to her mound and roughly searched for her clit.

  “Stop talking then and do it,” he growled, raking her cunt lips and clit with his calloused hands.

  It was glorio
us.

  Harriet pushed down on his cock, savouring the sting where she stretched to accommodate him. It was everything her body had craved and she closed her eyes briefly, fixing it to memory, opening them to witness the sight of Archie’s hands all over her.

  His hips bucked and spasmed and he locked her in tight, one hand round her chest, the other jammed to her cunt, cock all the way into her desperate clutching pussy. Then stayed like that. A tremble shook through him and emotion for him bubbled up through Harriet’s lungs.

  He tipped his head in behind her ear and squeezed her harder.

  Harriet stayed completely still, waiting for the moment where the tension would break and they’d start to fuck.

  Oh and it did. Archie released a growl and began moving his hips, bucking and sliding almost out before slamming back in, fucking Harriet as hard and best he could in the tub.

  Harriet responded by riding him back, matching thrust for thrust until they’d thrashed most of the water out over the side.

  “Is this what you wanted lassie, is it?”

  “Yes, yes.” Her peripheral vision dimmed, signalling her impending climax. “Fuck yes Archie. Yes fuck me like this, harder.”

  He obliged, frigging her clit until it jumped with sensation, his cock hitting her G-spot again and again. She arched her back to get him in deeper and suddenly, she was at that point. That place where time stilled and there was nothing but this moment. Archie stilled too. His huge bulk encasing her.

  Then through the stillness she heard his voice, muffled and far away at first then booming from the pit of his soul right into hers. “I’m going to come, I’m fucking coming.”

  Harriet came too, her pussy clenching and convulsing around him, drinking up his spunk, she could feel it mingling with her juices and the bath water. He kept his fingers clamped to her pussy and every now and then would give them a quick flurry of movement bringing an after-wave of bliss again and again.

  ***

  They lay on damp towels spread over the bed, drying naturally and caressing each other softly. The silence was beautiful yet Harriet sensed that Archie wanted to break it.