The Bad Boy Arrangement

by Nora Flite

  And right then... I had lots of it.

  God, the way everyone cheered—they were as insane as me. Their bloodlust was no different. But I had a reason. I wanted this fight over fast.

  There was another man I had an agenda with.

  Magnus groaned, clawing at me. He could get no hold, his fists were wrapped too thickly in their gloves. Again, I slammed him into the floor. Again, the air became a chorus of delighted screams.

  Honestly, I was tempted to howl, too.

  Magnus stopped struggling. Someone rang a bell. Lifting my eyes, I tore my vision over and through and across every single face. I was looking for one person. I thought—for a second—that I spotted Zoe.

  But then I found him.

  And then I no longer cared.

  Throwing Magnus aside, I flexed my hands and felt nothing. Reese had been watching the fight. I could see it in his eyes, that flicker of surprise and terror. I approached, fast and determined.

  He didn't have a fucking chance.

  “Huck!”

  She was shouting my name. I ignored her.

  Blood pumped through my veins like a train off the tracks. It careened and pushed me, threw me forward. Something was burning on one hand—it was distant. Meaningless.

  “Huck! Huck, stop!”

  Zoe grabbed my forearm, bringing me back to Earth. The blue of her eyes contrasted against the red dripping from my knuckles. Most of the stains were from Reese.

  He was sprawled on the ground, sitting up on his elbows. Crimson leaked down his chin to his shirt. I'd broken his nose with my fist.

  If Zoe hadn't pulled at me, tugging me towards the stairs, I would have hit him again.

  Reese spit to the side, glaring at me with cold hatred. “You piece of shit! Get back here!”

  Temptation struck—I wanted to slam into his stupid fucking face again. I wanted to shatter his teeth. I ached to make Reese bleed, to hurt.

  To pay.

  Skimming off the top. Those words. Lifting my head, I scanned furiously for Nehro—spotted him nearby. No emotion shone in his stare.

  I shouted, throat ripping with fiery grit. “You're unbelievable! How can you live with yourself?”

  Nehro said nothing. Lifting his head, he spun and vanished into the crowd. People swarmed forward, crouching to check on Reese.

  Zoe struggled to pull me up the stairs once more. “Come on, let's get out of here!”

  Reese was helped to his feet. Wiping his mouth, he squinted at his palm—then pointed at me. “You're a dead man. You know that, right?”

  My smile slid over my lips, sizzling with my disgust. “Everyone dies, Reese. Some of us go painlessly.” Turning away, I broke eye contact. “Here's a tip; you won't be one of them.”

  In my head, I still saw his busted face—still longed to shred it to the bone. It haunted me long after Zoe forced me from the Dog House. Red blurred my vision. It was my companion, staying and smothering me until that wonderful woman shoved me against cool stone.

  “Huck, are you okay?” she asked, insistent.

  Moving my eyes, I saw we were surrounded by unfamiliar buildings. Everything was dark, quiet. The perfume of sweat and brutality was gone. “Where are we?”

  She put her palms on my cheeks, felt my forehead. “Not far, we walked for five minutes or so.”

  Five minutes?

  God, I'd been lost in a black cloud of hate. I didn't remember moving my feet.

  Zoe held something to me; my shirt, my jacket. “Put these on,” she said. “It's freezing out here.”

  “Not yet. The air feels good.” Closing my eyes, I swept my hair back. The wall behind me felt stable. I needed stability right then.

  Lowering my clothing, Zoe made a tiny sound—it drew my attention. Her lips twisted, a worried frown. “Seriously, are you okay?” she asked, her breath turning into steam in the December night.

  Lifting my hand, I looked over the damage. Skin had been torn back, everything wet and hot-pink. Both of us winced, the pain becoming real. It was a dull throb, but it fucking hurt. “I'm fine,” I said quickly, recognizing her fear.

  She set my clothes on the ground. Reaching out, her small fingers curled around my wrist, turning my hand gingerly. “Why the hell did you do this to yourself?”

  I didn't mean to laugh, but it came out anyway; dry as sand. “Reese had it coming. The pain was—is—worth it.”

  Zoe's grip tightened. “Help me understand. One second you were beating down Magnus with all the fires of Hell at your back, and the next you're attacking Reese.”

  “That asshole was lying to you.” Reclaiming my arm, I cradled her shoulders. Zoe looked so tiny in my grip, a figurine made of paper. “You thought he wasn't taking any of the winnings. He was taking half.”

  Before my eyes, Zoe grew—a moon rising. She stood taller than I'd ever seen her. Her agony created a convincing illusion. I thought even her hair was swaying, snakes that coiled and wished to bite. “He told me that he wanted me to keep every penny. All along, he was actually taking from me.”

  She twisted to stare at my bloody knuckles where they rested on her. Zoe whispered, “You found out, so you knocked him on his ass. You did that... for me?”

  I wanted to see her smile again. I had the awful fear that this tragedy would break the muscles that allowed her to laugh so freely. How could this news not put her heart in a vice?

  Remembering how terrified Reese had looked, I found some strength. My chuckle was sarcastic. “Call me Mr. Romantic.”

  Tension became a drop of water. It hung from the tip of an icicle, waiting to freeze or to fall. Maybe the ice would come with it, impaling us both.

  Zoe was no longer swelling. Her anger deflated, but it wasn't sadness that filled the holes. I kept waiting for her to shout, to cry. Reese had already betrayed her once. Now, with this brand new wound, she'd crawl into her own skin and never come back out.

  That man... he would pay for what he'd done to her.

  I was ready for her to reject the whole god damn world—and me with it. Wrapping her hands behind my head, Zoe shoved me into the wall. Raw heat exploded on my lips, her kiss meant for a familiar lover, not for a man in an alley.

  A man who had bled for her.

  If it was done for her sake, I'd turn every fucking street red.

  Stealing my breath, she slid against my bare chest—reminding me that I was still wearing just my jeans. On reflex, I curled my arms around her body. Her heart hammed through her spine and into my palms. I imagined myself cradling it, keeping it safe.

  How the hell had we gotten here?

  - Chapter Eight -

  Zoe

  Salt and sin. Huck tasted like everything I imagined he would.

  He stood up for me. I bit his lower lip, tugging. He fought for me. Gliding my tongue over the roof of his mouth, I reveled in each groove.

  Huck won't betray me.

  I wanted it to be true. I was willing to let myself believe it could be.

  It's always easier to believe something when you're floating in a cloud of lust. I'd been struggling every second to resist this man. Huxton was sexy as hell, but it was more than that.

  My ache for him had grown deeper than just a hunger for his warm skin, firm hands and firmer cock. The way he could ripple his body... the intensity of his eyes...

  There were many reasons to crave Huxton Blake.

  My sole reason?

  He had decided, without me begging or praying, to stand up and fight for me. Not in the ring, and not for money, he'd gone head to head with the man who had wronged me.

  Reese had strung me through the mud. What a fucking liar. How long had he been playing me?

  Six months. Did he skim cash from every fight?

  This meant I owed more money than I thought. It was soul crushing, the terror of walking backwards when you thought you were moving into the future.

  Nehro had never said a word. He knew, and he'd been happy to leave me ignorant. He wanted me to fail...
he wanted me to default on that awful contract.

  He probably prayed every night for me to give in and spread my legs for him.

  Why did so many people seek to use me?

  “Zoe,” Huck breathed, his fingers coiling in my scalp. I gasped as he wrenched me away, demanding space between our lips. Facing him was hard, my head was swimming. I couldn't focus. “Zoe, why—fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this. Why are you kissing me?”

  Oxygen wheezed through my open mouth, but struggled to touch my brain. Everything inside my skull felt warm and wet and too big to be kept inside. “Because I've been dying to kiss you since you drove me home on your motorcycle last night.” Last night. Had it really only been a day since we'd met?

  I didn't care. I wanted to feel something good for once. Hope... hope was tantalizing.

  I leaned forward, wanting to taste him again.

  His hands held me steady by my hair, so rough they lifted pinpricks of light behind my eyes. Lowering my gaze, I stared longingly at the massive shape outlined in his jeans. I whispered, “You want to kiss me, too. Don't tell me you're any different.”

  Huck's chest broadened, air sucking in until he was at full capacity. “Babe, I am different.” He yanked me forward, his forehead crushing against mine. “I wanted to kiss you hours before that ride. The minute I first saw you, sitting in that chair, crown on your head like a fucking queen... I knew I had to have you.”

  My world became his eyes and his smell and those wicked lips. That was all that existed.

  That was all I needed.

  In a whirl of my own hair, Huck spun me. Rough, cool stone dug into my shoulders. It trapped me in place. But Huxton... he put that solid wall to shame. He was far harder than the brick behind me.

  I'd kissed him once, seconds ago. His mouth made me forget I'd been the one to do it first. He made me forget everything with his soft lips and sharp teeth.

  Being kissed by Huxton was akin to inhaling a typhoon. He stripped me raw, made it impossible to think.

  He shoved a knee between my legs, forcing mine apart. Cupping my jaw, angling my head, he licked the arch of my throat. “God, you taste fucking amazing. I need more of you.” Lowering his face, he bit my shoulder through my jacket. “I want to see all of you, Zoe. I'm going to peel everything away until I expose you. I'll lick every inch of your skin and back again. Would you like that, babe?”

  All I could manage was a moan.

  Chuckling darkly in his throat, Huck teased his other hand up my thigh. “That's a yes if I ever heard one. Fuck, how wet are you right now?”

  Shit, he's killing me. This was happening fast, a landslide I was being smothered under. I couldn't speak, and I didn't dare try. Whatever I said... it would reveal too much. More than I was willing to admit.

  Blushing, I tried to shake my head—his palm allowed nothing. I had to look down my nose to see his face. His smirk was jagged and delicious.

  Huck whispered, “You don't want to tell me out loud? That's fine. I can see for myself.” His wide hand grazed the top button of my jeans. With the last of the cool stone vanishing under my growing heat, I trembled.

  Sliding lower, Huck traced the zipper—thumbed the brass button. I couldn't close my legs, his knee was a firm blockade.

  He nuzzled my cheek; thick, dark hair caressed me. “Say that you're wet for me. If you can do that, I won't fuck you in this filthy alley. I'll take you back to my place, lay you out on a nice bed... make it soft and tender and sweet as god damn honey.”

  His fingers tread in circles, curving over the gap of my thighs. He was so close to my cunt. It didn't feel like I had anything between us, nothing to keep him from realizing how excited I was.

  Licking my lips, I shut my eyes. Do I want to tell him? I didn't know. I was lost in my desires, completely forgetting how hard I had fought against this man. My reasons were muddled under the tingles.

  I was hungry for him. I could feel my own slick juices without moving.

  But still, admitting how wild he was making me... it was too much.

  “Last chance, doll,” he growled. Cupping me through my jeans, he squeezed roughly. My moan wasn't sweet or soft or modest. “Shit,” he breathed out, searing my ear. “Maybe you do just want me to fuck you right here.”

  I had forgotten I had hands—my limbs had been numb. Now, I curled my fingers into Huck's hair, forcing him up so I could kiss him. He shuddered, and I felt a flash of power. I was exciting him as much as he was tormenting me.

  My voice was liquid fire. “In this alley, at your place, on your damn bike... I don't care.” Wrenching him away, I stared into his furious green eyes and didn't blink. “Just fuck me, Mr. Romantic. I'm tired of waiting.”

  He sized me up, both hands slipping down to crush my hips. “Yes, ma'am. Happy to be of service.” With ease, he twirled me. My cheek brushed the stone, skin so sensitive that the texture was like sandpaper. It went through my jacket and shirt, chilling my firm nipples.

  Holding me by the wrists, all in a single hand, Huck pulled my arms to the small of my back. Over my eager, surprised gasp, I listened to him growl. “I'll fuck you like you're asking... but we do it my way.”

  His way.

  That sounded perfect.

  With his free fingers, he deftly removed my jacket. It bunched up around my arms, not falling as he kept hold of my wrists. I thought he'd have trouble reaching me. I was wrong.

  Yanking my spine into a sharp curve, he lifted my chest off the wall. A mere few inches, enough to get under the cotton and trace my tits through my bra. I whimpered, tossing my head.

  He didn't remove my bra, he just yanked it up, exposing my breasts. December wind brushed the dusky tips, making them impossibly stiffer. Easy targets for his thumb and forefinger.

  Twisting lightly, he drew forth another moan. Huck murmured, “Jesus, you're sensitive.” Flicking finger-pads over the other nipple, he nuzzled the back of my ear. “Is all of you like this?”

  “Like what?” I gasped.

  “Perfect for fucking.” His tongue made swirls on my neck. Cupping my left breast, he squeezed softly—then hungrily. “Go ahead, tell me what I'll find when I reach into your pants and rub that impatient cunt.”

  Color blocked out my vision. “Shit, you have a filthy mouth,” I hissed.

  Huxton brought his hand to my jeans, popping the button. “Love, every inch of me is filthy.”

  Pleasure controlled my lower belly. So did my urge to show him that I knew he was going as wild as me. Shifting my hips, I rubbed my ass along the front of his jeans. The material bulged, bruising us both. His cock was rigid as steel.

  He hissed through clenched teeth. “If you're trying to make me harder, I don't think it's possible. You like the feel of that?” Huck rocked into me, pressing me against the wall. “That's all from you, babe.”

  Okay, I admit—that made me grin proudly. He erased my expression with the agile unzipping of my jeans. My smugness melted, a whimper left in its place.

  Huck slid my pants down, dipping inside the front. Two fingers outlined the grooves just outside my panties. I almost fell—his body held me up. He whispered, “You're on fire down here.”

  Wrong. I was on fire everywhere. I sought him out, desperate to get his fingers to touch my pussy. Huck was keen to stroke anywhere but where I needed him to. I drove my hips forward; he just laughed, squeezing my inner thigh.

  “I like this side of you,” he said. “You're fun when you go a bit crazy.”

  “I'm not crazy.”

  “Then what are you?”

  Shutting me eyes, I bit my tongue. He would have none of that.

  Letting my wrists go, he used my hair as a handle. Fingers tickled near my clit, his lips brushing my cheek. Forcing me to look at him, Huxton let me see the lust in his emerald eyes. He'd never hidden behind a curtain, not like me.

  Yet somehow... now?

  I was gazing into the eyes of a wicked creature. Someone that was barely holding back from eating me u
p, from making me scream.

  He thumbed my engorged clit—just once. “Aah!” I squeaked, shaking down to the heels of my feet.

  “Don't run from me, Zoe.” The fist in my hair wrenched sharply, setting my scalp on fire. It hurt, but I fucking loved it. The pain made me more aware of everything—the breeze, my own skin, and him. Huxton Blake.

  The man who wanted to ruin me.

  And I was ready for it.

  Hell, I needed it.

  Licking my lips, I breathed out, “Fuck me.”

  His fingers clenched, mouth twitching. My demand had melted some of his strength. Huck was lusting for me, his cock jamming through his jeans and against my ass. “Say it again,” he demanded.

  Unblinking, I stared him in the eye. His expectation made me shiver. “Fuck. Me.” I punctuated every word. I wanted him to understand. No games—I needed him inside of me, or I was going to lose my mind.

  Two fingers slid into my cunt, curling through my wetness. I moaned, thrusting into his palm. It wasn't his cock, but it was better than my own fingers. Far better than what I'd done to myself in the safety of my bed.

  Masturbating to the idea of Huxton was a mere shadow when compared to the real thing.

  “You're fucking tight,” he groaned. Deeper, he explored me. His thumb twisted, brushing my clit, pushing me so close to coming I expected my heart to just stop. He'd gotten me near my climax with ease.

  He touched me expertly. His experience was clear, and it thrilled and intimidated me simultaneously. I loved that he knew what to do, but that power... god. The things he could do to me.

  The things he could make me do to him.

  Sex could be a weapon, I knew that. And still, in his capable hands, I shrugged away the danger. I was already becoming addicted to this man, could it possibly get worse after he made me come?

  I didn't let myself answer that.

  Huck wriggled his fingers, testing what I could handle. Electricity bounced to my brain, muscles hugging him, fluttering. “You're close, doll. I can feel it.” Again, he gave my clit a casual rub. “I can't wait to feel you come. Fuck, my cock is throbbing at the thought of it. I've been dreaming about the sounds you'll make for me, Zoe.”