The Bad Boy Arrangement

by Nora Flite

  Dazed, I turned towards him. “Abell—”

  He advanced on me, gripping my cheeks in his hands. His face was inches from mine, his smirk ravenous. “You come here, to my home, the place where we first fucked, and you think I don't know what you're looking for?” His breath scorched my ear, teeth brushing the tender skin. “You came back for more of my cock, didn't you?”

  My tongue was sluggish, speaking was a struggle. What do I say? Abell had changed our dynamic. After he'd proven he had the guts to fuck me in my wedding dress, in public no less, I knew he had no limits.

  I'd always been so tough and high strung. But with him, my body—my mind—wanted to collapse into a black hole. I wanted to give in, let him flood my cells with pleasure until I was blind and deaf to the world.

  His hand grabbed my ass through my jeans, squeezing. “Answer me. Did you come here for more of my delicious cock?” Thrusting, he ground his steel-hard erection against me.

  My pussy clenched in a helpless response. “No—I mean, not at first.”

  It was too hard to look at him. I tried to face away, but he cupped my jaw, forcing me back. “Then why come all the way here?” he asked.

  My palm brushed my stomach. “To talk about... what we did.”

  His nostrils flared, eyes shining. “We can talk, and we can fuck. Best of both worlds.”

  “Wait, we can't!” I lifted my hands; he grabbed my wrists, kissing the sensitive skin on the inner part.

  “I want to do it again.” Nuzzling my cheek, he reached down, popping my coat open. “Cumming inside of you was addictive. I need more of that, I want to feel you writhing around, itching for that piece of me.”

  I couldn't see past the corner of his tempting mouth. The room spun, Abell tossing me against his bed. The white walls around me were too familiar.

  “Abell, listen.” I sat up on my elbows, my heart reverberating as he approached. “What we did at the bridal shop was too risky. There's a chance I'm pregnant, a chance I'm not. We can't be so reckless again, not until...”

  Not until I know you're really staying by my side.

  He threw his hoodie to the floor, tearing his shirt over his head. “You really think that there's a chance I didn't knock you up?” His running pants hung low, his hipbones commanding my attention. The dragon tattoo stamped over his stomach writhed like it was alive.

  Words, how do I make words. “Yeah,” I said. “A chance.”

  “Then we'd better fix that.” His deft fingers were already untying the strings around his middle. It took me a minute to grasp his meaning. His pants fell away, leaving him standing there in his tight, form-fitting briefs. He might as well have been naked.

  Abell winked at me; his hard-on flexed under the fabric.

  I should have walked away.

  I should have demanded we talk.

  Stepping forward, I gripped his prick and squeezed. Abell bared his teeth, grunting in his throat. “You really want to do this?” I asked, tracing him top to bottom. “We don't need to do it bareback. Actually, I could even...” Before I knew it, I was on my knees.

  His fingers wrapped along my scalp like a vice. “I like where your mind is.” Gazing down at me, he inched his briefs down. The top of his cock was exposed.

  Abell's natural musk created a suffocating fog in my brain. Tugging the elastic away, I let his dick free into the air. It tapped my nose, bobbing at full mast. Entranced, I just knelt there, fixated on the sight of it.

  “I love this view,” he said above me.

  Peeking up, I shook myself. Closing my fist around his base, I was struck by how small my hand looked. My thumb couldn't touch my forefinger.

  Dragging my grip up his length, I felt him spasm. Holy shit, I thought to myself. If I angle it right, his cock is thick enough to block out my view of his face.

  I didn't want to block his face, though. Abell was a dream to look at.

  Wetting my lips, I circled the engorged tip. Carefully I slid down; I was choking in a mere second. Above me, Abell hissed with restraint. He loves this. That realization was empowering.

  Sucking him, his shaft pulsed along my tongue. I sank further, working at fighting my gag reflex. Gingerly, I explored with my hands, cupping his balls; they flexed at my gentle touch.

  The longer I lubed his cock up, the easier the blowjob became. The obscene sound of my lips and tongue suckling at him hung in the air.

  He was delicious; better than any sweet I'd ever indulged in.

  “Stop, wait,” he gasped. Pulling away quickly, he created a wet pop of suction. “I'd love to cum in your mouth. I would. But I don't want this to be wasted.”

  Inching backwards on the bed, he stretched out. I was still kneeling, and from this view, he looked like a king. His cock was arching like a tower, his hand fisting the base, gliding over my slick saliva.

  “Ride me,” he growled. “I want to look at the face of my future wife as she loses herself on my cock.”

  Jumping to my feet, I scrambled to remove my clothes. He watched languidly, jerking his prick in a comfortable, calm fashion.

  My weight settled on the mattress. Throwing one leg over his body, I straddled him. Our pieces lined up, so in sync we could have been made for each other.

  Gingerly I pulled myself down on him. That initial penetration still made me gasp. I wasn't a size queen, but fuck, Abell pushed my limits.

  Every fraction of movement made him sink deeper inside of me. That magnificent dick was stretching me, on and on until I was holding my breath before I reached the bottom.

  Abell grabbed my hips, guiding me down the final inch. I inhaled violently, thrilling at the sensation of being so full. He nudged me, encouraging me to start moving. “You're almost too big,” I groaned.

  “Once you start fucking me, you'll adjust,” he whispered.

  But he was wrong. It didn't matter how much I ground on him, or how slippery my thighs felt. My pussy would start to relax, and his cock would just swell bigger. It was like he kept expanding, making sure I'd always feel that same head-swimming tension.

  It was making me delirious; it was too good, too tight, too hot. I was boiling from my center out, sweat streaming just below my breasts.

  “Dammit,” he said under his breath. I looked him in the eye, reading his lips because my brain was too busy being assaulted by pleasure to hear. “You're perfect. Beyond perfect.”

  He tilted my body, forcing my swollen clit to rub against his firm pelvis. Thrusting onto his cock, I groaned, back arching to the max. My pussy was a mess, and the tattoos beneath me were covered in my juices.

  There were flames of ink licking up his hips and belly. I was so wet, if they'd been real, I'd have put them out.

  My insides fluttered, wild heat flowing into my cunt. As my clit twitched, the rest of me followed. “Oh, hell,” I breathed out. The mounting pressure grew, my pussy squeezing over and over like a pair of lungs that needed air.

  Spikes of delirious pleasure hit me hard. When I finally came, I held my breath, my jaw locking as my eyes closed.

  “There you go,” he said, his voice as thick as syrup. “Keep cumming, babe. Keep fucking going.”

  He commanded me, and I listened.

  Shaking, I slid my hands across his chest, seeking anything to hold me down. I felt so good, I worried I would float through the ceiling any second.

  My pussy clenched, hugging his stiff shaft as it pistoned into me. He hadn't slowed down, he was riding through my orgasm. Abell was pushing me further, eager to see what I could take.

  Once, I'd told him I liked a bit of pain. I'd just been boasting; I didn't mix pain and sex ever in my life.

  He opened my mind, pounding into me with the core-shaking thrusts of a man who could do nothing but fuck. It was perpetual motion, both of us trapped until we burned out.

  “I'm so close,” he groaned, slick with sweat. “This pussy is mine, do you hear me?” His palm came around, slapping my ass—I squealed. “Mine. No one else is ever going
to have it.”

  If I hadn't been so drained, I would have cum again. “Yes,” I drawled. “It's yours. I'm... I'm yours.” What was I saying? I was too far gone to consider any of it.

  Abell trembled down to his toes, I felt it in his skin. He bent his spine, his balls contracting against my ass cheeks. “There, there it is, I'm...!” He didn't need to finish his sentence. Warm, fast explosions of liquid flooded into me. His cock jerked to the beat of his rapid heart.

  Dizzy, I swayed on top of him. His fingers dug into my thighs, keeping me still, stuffing me with his seed—making me his. Even when he was empty, he kept rolling his hips, that cock still hard. The raw, animal part of me loved that.

  Inhaling, he curled his arms around me, bringing me to him. I went eagerly, kissing him even as my vision went blurry.

  I had nothing left in me. I was spent.

  Abell had conquered my body and mind in a way no one could have. Hell, no one could even come close to. He'd ruined me for anyone else. And I knew it. I fucking knew it.

  Without knowing when, I drifted off into darkness

  ****

  Blue tulips filled my dreams. As I sat among them, they tickled my ankles, my eyelids. It was real serenity, a constant, peaceful thumping sound in my ears.

  But for some reason, instead of floral, the air smelled like...

  Maple and pine.

  My lashes fluttered. Around me, plain white walls stretched to the ceiling. Next to me, his heat and heart pulsing away, was Abell. He was naked on top of the blankets, peacefulness making his features gentle.

  This was deja vu.

  Abell mumbled, shifting beside me. As if woken by my stare, his eyes opened. The room had darkened, his blue centers like sapphires at the bottom of the sea.

  Wait. Where had the sun gone? “Did we fall asleep?” I asked, sitting up. “What time is it?”

  “Around six.” He pointed at his bedside clock. “Guess we both needed the rest after... well.” Chuckling at how I squirmed, he slid off of the blankets and grabbed his jeans. “Come on. I'll give you a ride home.”

  Together we descended the stairs, shuffling into his Ferrari in the garage. He had been right, it was after six and already the sun had set. Buildings glowed around us, the ever present color of the holidays.

  We were both quiet, reflecting on what we had done.

  Glancing at him, I said, “We never got to talk.”

  “We did plenty of talking.”

  “No,” I said, fidgeting. “About... us. What we're doing.”

  We rolled under an overhang. As we did, Abell was bathed in pure midnight and rich ink, escaping every fragment of light. “We're getting married. I'm making you my wife. What else is there?”

  Love.

  I didn't have the guts to say it.

  Abell pulled up beside my apartment. He didn't cut the engine; I knew he wasn't coming inside. His hands were glued to the wheel, as if he could never let go.

  “Well,” I started to say, reaching for my door handle. “I guess I'll see you.”

  In such a small space, so close to him, I sensed his energy shift. Abell twisted, reaching out for me so fast that I was stunned. My head hit the window—not painfully, but enough to make a sound.

  Abell's kiss was feverish, born from an ache I understood, but wasn't ready to believe in.

  Then it was over; he leaned back, breathing heavily. His eyes darted from mine, to my lips, then out the window. “I... have a good night, Nix. See you around.”

  See you around? The guy was forcing himself to be disconnected. “Yeah. See you.” Stepping out of the car, I perched in the middle of the sidewalk and looked around. No wind blew, the air was stale and calm.

  The city had an empty, quiet feeling to it. Less like the end of the world, and more like I was living in a cocoon.

  Did that make me the caterpillar?

  And if so...

  When this was over with, what would I emerge as?

  - Chapter Twelve -

  Abell

  I watched her vanish into her apartment, just sitting there in my car and... watching.

  What is happening to me?

  It was insanity, and I knew it. Pure fucking insanity.

  I want her.

  More than just for a quick fuck, more than just to hear her moan, though that was glorious in its own right.

  What I wanted from Nix was deeper. It pulled at me, as if it were a memory coming to the surface. This woman was creating an ache in me that only got worse the longer I let her scratch it.

  Slamming my fist against the steering wheel, I gave a hollow laugh. “I'm losing my mind. My entire fucking mind.”

  This thing with Nix had shifted from a method to keep my money—and the loose women—into something so much more. I hadn't wanted it to, I hadn't even dreamed it could!

  But here I was, sitting outside her apartment, wishing I could find an excuse to go inside and see her again. Just to look at her face, hear her voice.

  Was this what love was?

  I revved the engine hard, burning rubber as I floored it away. My fingers went to turn the radio on; the missing knob reminded me of how I'd freaked out weeks ago.

  Pushing the eject button, I gingerly slid the CD of rock music out. It felt fragile in my hand. The reflective edge bounced the street lights back at me when I twisted it in the air.

  If we hadn't met that night... if we hadn't hooked up...

  Would any of this be different?

  If I'd met Nix for the first time during that meeting, would it have been easier to close off to her? How funny, to think that a simple fling would become the root of my weakness.

  Bristling with too many different emotions, I dropped the CD and ripped out my beaten up pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, I pulled into the garage below my apartment. The buzzing of my phone startled me.

  Shoving the cigarette to the corner of my lips, I parked the car and clicked the green button on my cell phone. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Birch,” a robotic voice crackled. “Do you have a moment?”

  Screwing my eyebrows up, I opened the door, stepping into the garage. “That depends, who's calling?”

  “Someone with a message.”

  Chuckling, I dropped the cigarette, crushing it with my heel. The tobacco just didn't taste as good as it used to. After having Nix, nothing compared. “A message? Is this a prank?”

  The voice hissed with distortion. “More like a warning. Walk away from her, and you'll be compensated. Stay with her, and you'll ruin her life.”

  Every fiber of my being locked up. “What?”

  “You don't have to marry anyone, you'll be free, and with a million dollars in your pocket. Wouldn't it be nice to be your own man, answering to no one—not even your father?”

  “Who the hell is this?” I asked, crushing the phone.

  “Think about it. You're broken, and deep down, you know you'll destroy her if you stay with her. Why make both of you unhappy? Decide what you want: the money, or to see her heart become black and ruined by your flaws. And if you tell anyone about this phone call, the deal is off. Tread carefully, Mr. Birch.” There was a sharp click, then my phone went silent.

  Holding the device at a distance, I just stared. What the fuck was that? They can't be serious. Fury rattled through my bones, the edges of my phone creaking from the pressure.

  Who the fuck would DARE threaten to split up me and Nix?

  That woman belonged to me. I'd never harm her.

  Yet, somehow, those robotic words rung painfully true.

  I'd always believed the world was cruel and terrible. Why was I exempt? Fuck, I knew I wasn't special. I was as selfish as anyone.

  Was marrying Nix actually going to wreck her heart? Her life?

  What's the point in bribing me? Someone had an agenda. They were trying to tempt me into avoiding the marriage, and I had no clue why.

  Was it someone I knew?

  My skull hurt from all the questions I had. One
of them kept fluttering out front like a giant moth: If this marriage made me happy, but shattered her heart in the long run...

  Could I really go through with it?

  ****

  I'd chugged every beer I could find in my apartment.

  The bottle of brandy that had been under my sink, too.

  Distantly, I knew I was being destructive. These were old habits—or sort of old. It had been barely a month since I'd met Nix, could a man really change himself in that amount of time?

  I don't need to change.

  I never could have, anyway.

  My phone sat on my coffee table. I eyeballed it as I paced. It might as well have been a loaded gun.

  Who fucking called me?

  What the hell do I do?

  Since my mother had died, the only person I'd ever relied on was myself. Nix had started to slip inside my ribs, dangerously close to my heart, but... I couldn't talk to her. Not until I came to some sort of conclusion about what to do.

  Marrying her could ruin her.

  But running could do the same.

  Baring my teeth, I jammed my knuckles into the wall. The plaster exploded; I was lucky as hell I didn't hit a stud. Shaking my hand, ignoring the smear of blood from the broken skin, I took a swig from the empty brandy bottle.

  “Shit,” I said to the air. “I need more alcohol.” This edge had to be drowned. The stress that boiled in my veins was heating me up, and not in a good way. I have to get out of here, I need to just... just move around.

  I needed to escape.

  My bare skin was sweating, I'd ripped my shirt off after I'd spilled beer on it. Stumbling into my bedroom, I grabbed the first shirt I could find in the dark. I slid it on, my jacket following as I stumbled out the door.

  More booze, I thought, slapping my arms to ward off the cold. Alcohol would warm me, just as it would erase my concerns. There was no better friend than a full bottle.

  It was late, the winter clouds bloated and dark. The air that bit me warned of snow. Along the street, shops had decorated their awnings with red and green lights. The cheerful glow guided me into the first bar I could find.

  I didn't even read the name.

  Distantly, I knew what I was doing. I knew it as the scent of stale margaritas and filthy bathrooms hit me. I probably knew it before then, actually.