His Brat: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Isabella Starling

  “Nice to meet you, Eric,” she says, smiling foolishly.

  As she continues to speak, my eyes flit back to the group the Latina left behind. The girls seem to be having a bit too much fun, half of them drunk out of their minds. My pretty pink vixen is sitting down, and she looks angry as fuck. She’s eyeballing Kendra.

  For a second, our gazes connect, and I feel something so powerful pass between us it nearly knocks me off my chair. She’s sinful.

  With a flourish, she sets her glass down on a table, ignoring her friends and sauntering right over to Kendra. She’s a vision, even though she wobbles in those heels. Her swishing dress gives me a sight of her inner thighs, and it’s enough to make me instantly hard.

  She taps the redhead on her shoulder, and Kendra shuts up for a second to see what’s up.

  “Yes?” she asks, rolling her eyes at me and not even turning around.

  “Hey, Stacy,” the vixen says sweetly. I feel confused by her use of a different name, but I’m too distracted by my kitten’s voice—dripping sugar, molten caramel, dark chocolate. She’s sweet as sin and just as dangerous, and fuck me, I want to taste her little pussy.

  “Dude!” Kendra hisses, turning around to glare at her. “We agreed not to…. What do you even want?”

  “I want you to fuck off,” is the answer, delivered in the same sweet voice that makes my dick throb. And that’s exactly what it’s doing right now, fucking throbbing with the need to have this girl’s lips wrapped around it. I throw my drink back, angry with myself. I can’t let my cock dictate my life. She’s jailbait if I ever saw some.

  “What?” Kendra giggles nervously. “I’m in the middle of a conversation here.”

  “Leave. Right. The. Fuck. Now,” my sex kitten tells her, punctuating every word with a jab of her finger in Kendra’s chest. “Or I tell your daddy.”

  That word coming off her lips is pure fucking sin, and my cock throbs again. Jesus fucking Christ, she’s something.

  “And what if I don’t?” Kendra asks threateningly, getting off her stool. She towers over my petite girl. I’m just watching the scene unfold in front of me for now, but I’m ready to separate them if I have to. I don’t have any desire to deal with a catfight on top of everything else.

  “You want a fucking fight?” my kitty snarls, ramming her fist into Kendra’s side. It doesn’t even faze the redhead, and she merely laughs in my girl’s face.

  At this point, I’m sensing some real trouble brewing, and I get up to stand between the two ladies. “All right, all right, all right,” I tell them. “No fighting. Go cool off. I need to… do the same, actually.”

  I ponder which one to drag off, and once again, my dick wins the fight inside my head. I grab the kitten’s forearm gently and pull her a few feet away.

  “Cool off, darling,” I tell her with a stern look. “Don’t be gettin’ into any fights. You look like a good girl—just don’t mess up your night.”

  Knowing I need to get away before I get into any more trouble, I walk off, leaving her in her sky-high heels as I step outside the bar. Relishing the moment of calm without the blaring music for a moment, I lean back in the same spot I was at before, fishing in my pocket for a pack of cigarettes. I fucking need a drag.

  “What makes you think you can boss me around?” A voice interrupts me, and I look up to see Pink walking up to me, her arms crossed defensively in front of her body. I’m sure she’s trying to look confident, but all she’s achieved is making my dick twitch, pushing her tits up like that.

  “Dunno,” I reply with a shrug, lighting my cigarette. “Maybe you look like you’d like it.”

  I can almost feel the heat coming off her body, even though I’m still a short distance away from the little temptress. “You shouldn’t even fucking be here,” I tell her with a frown. Suddenly the cigarette doesn’t seem so appealing anymore, and I drop it to the ground and crush it under my shoe before I even draw in a single drag.

  “Why not?” she challenges me defiantly.

  I glare right into her painfully pretty face. “You look about sixteen,” I tell her bluntly, my voice harsh. “Far as I know, legal drinking age is still twenty-fucking-one, little girl.”

  She blushes furiously, stomping her foot down. It only makes her look even more like an insolent child, and I merely grin at her.

  “It’s my birthday,” she tells me proudly.

  “Twenty-first?” I mock her.

  “Eighteen.” She rolls her eyes, her small pink tongue licking along her bottom lip.

  “Well, happy fucking birthday,” I tell her, tossing my packet of cigs into a nearby bin. “Welcome to adulthood. It’s as shitty as everyone told you.”

  I turn my back on her to leave, but before I make it even a few steps, she calls out after me.

  “Why are you in such a bad mood?” she asks.

  I stop walking, wondering whether I should answer her. Probably not. Probably should just get away from her, as far as fucking possible, while my mind is still relatively clear. I turn around in time to see her scratching her leg, lifting her skirt up so fucking high in the process that I can see her panties.

  Light pink. Lace.

  I hiss, unable to help myself, my brows knitting together in an effort to restrain myself from doing something I’ll regret later.

  She strides closer. “You look pissed about something. I’m just wondering what it is,” she says in that too-young voice.

  “None of your goddamn business,” I tell her.

  “It could be.” She smiles up at me. She’s so tiny. I bet I could wrap my hands around her waist and my fingers would meet in the middle.

  “I don’t fucking want it to be,” I scowl.

  “Why?” She’s next to me now, her fingers playing with the locks of her cotton-candy-colored wig. “You don’t want to get to know me?”

  “Nope,” I tell her honestly. “You look like trouble. I’ve had just about enough of that in my life lately.”

  “Trouble is good sometimes,” she says with a smile. So pretty. “Makes life more exciting.”

  “Makes life very fucking complicated,” I correct her.

  “You prefer boring?”

  “I prefer simple,” I explain, sighing.

  And that’s just what my life used to be before this goddamn ordeal. An easy job, a fuck every night, a different girl to suck my dick every week. No commitments, no problems. Easy as fuck.

  “I don’t,” the girl tells me with an easy laugh. “I like problems. I like solving them.”

  I can’t help but think how she’d solve mine, but I don’t speak up. Instead, I linger in that fucking parking lot like some sad teenager, waiting for her to go on.

  “Well, I’ll let you go back to your own stuff,” she tells me sweetly, blushing as she smiles up at me yet again.

  “And I’ll let you get back to your illegal drinking.” I grin at her, and she rewards me with pouty lips. But neither one of us moves; we both just stand there like two goddamned fools, staring at each other.

  “You want to get out of here?” I finally ask her, and she grins happily.

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “Pretty fucking naïve,” I respond. “No one told you not to trust strangers?”

  She sidles up to me, running her fingers down my arm while she looks up at me shyly. “Something tells me I can trust you.”

  “Oh, kitten,” I chuckle at her. “I’m the last person on earth you should fucking trust.” I don’t give her the chance to change her mind. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

  We catch a cab to get back to my place. The whole ride there, I’m lost deep in thought, knowing this is a fucking terrible idea. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be putting her in a car and sending her home to some probably very concerned parents.

  But I don’t.

  She sits on the seat next to me, legs clamped closely together. I can hear her low breaths, but I don’t look over at her once. I stare out the window, pretending it’s just
a normal night like any other. She’ll go to my place, we’ll bang, and maybe, for fucking once, I won’t mess this up.

  I’ll call her the day after, take her out for dinner. She’ll become my scandalously younger girlfriend, my little sex kitten. She is legal, after all.

  Except that’s not going to happen, is it? I’ve effectively fucked up my life and there’s no way in hell I get to have my happily ever after with this pink-haired princess.

  “Where do you live?” I ask her once we pull up to my apartment building.

  “Left bank of the river,” she replies softly as the cab comes to a stop.

  I climb out of the car and tap the roof once after handing the driver some cash. “Take her home. Make sure she gets in all right.”

  She lets out an incredulous laugh as I slam the car door closed and the taxi takes off. As much as my heart—and my fucking cock—regrets letting her go, I know I’ve made the right call as I head for my front door, fumbling with the keys.

  Then I hear tires screeching and turn around just in time to see the girl getting out of the cab. The driver shouts some obscenities after her, and I want to smash his face in just for using those words in her presence.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I yell to the girl as the car speeds off.

  “Not leaving,” she tells me furiously, approaching me like a banshee. “You think you can just change your mind? Treat me like that? Like I’m worthless?”

  She stabs at my chest with her finger, talon-like nails digging into my skin. Probably fake, just like her hair.

  I grab her finger and twist her arm away, making her mewl like the kitten she is.

  “You need to go home, little girl,” I tell her sternly.

  She glares at me. “No.”

  “You don’t follow orders very well,” I say, but my grin has returned. If she’s so damn set on coming home with me, why the fuck shouldn’t she? Maybe it’s time I finally let someone spend the night in my apartment.

  “Fine,” I tell her, unlocking the front door and not giving her another look. “Come with me then. Sixth floor, no elevator.”

  I climb the stairs and I can hear her following behind me in those ridiculous shoes. She’s sighing and moaning and complaining before we reach the top floor. Once there, I unlock the front door to my place. I head inside and wait for her to follow.

  The kitten’s eyes widen as she walks into my apartment. It’s the same fucking reaction I always get, but this time it secretly pleases me to see how much she likes it.

  The space is a big loft, with my bed upstairs and a huge living area downstairs. The building is an old factory that was remodeled into an apartment building a few years ago, shortly before I moved in. Seeing as it’s in a less popular part of town, I got a good price on it. Since then, the area has blossomed from entirely industrial into a fancy-ass hipster neighborhood, and it is now one of the most desirable places to live according to lifestyle bloggers or some shit.

  “This place is…” she starts to say as I close the door behind her.

  “Amazing. The shit. Awesome,” I finish for her.

  My tabby cat shoots up from behind the couch, startling the girl as it rubs against her legs. “And who is this?” she coos softly. The cat purrs, getting me an ‘in’ with the lady and breaking the ice just like the good old feller always does. A trustworthy wingman, that one.

  “A cat,” I answer, putting down my keys on the side table next to the couch and slipping out of my leather jacket. Her eyes linger on my tight-fitting dark V-neck shirt as I strip away the jacket, my muscles bulging and showing off the ink I’ve added over the past few years.

  “Yes,” she laughs softly. “But what’s his name?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t have one,” I tell her. “Just a cat.”

  She gasps like this is the most horrible thing she’s ever heard in her short life. By this time, every other girl I’ve had here is half-naked or asking me for a drink, and I’m slightly amused by my newest pet’s innocence.

  “You can’t not give him a name!” she cries out in horror.

  “Why the fuck not?” I ask with a smile. “He’s my cat.”

  “It’s inhumane!” she tells me.

  “Well, he’s not human,” I tell her, flicking her nose with my forefinger and making her blush. She’s goddamn adorable.

  She’s getting ready to object again as I pour myself a glass of Scotch. I offer her a bottle of Coke—not getting myself in trouble with someone under twenty-one—and she opens it. When she does, a long talon flies off her finger and lands in my glass of Scotch.

  “What the fuck,” I say with a trace of humor in my voice.

  “Fuck.” She blushes deeply. “I… They are, I don’t….”

  “It’s all right, kitten,” I chuckle at her. “Part of the ensemble, I take it.” I point to her wig and get-up. “Wanna show me what your actual hair looks like?”

  She blushes. “This could totally be my actual hair.”

  “Yes,” I nod gravely. “Passed down from your mother’s mother, Cotton Candy.”

  “Shut up,” she giggles, scratching at her ear. “It does itch horribly. I might just….”

  She digs her fingers under the wig and with one motion, removes the fake locks. Her hair falls down her shoulders in a show of milk and honey, tempting me to grab and yank on a handful of her locks, hard.

  Her hair is unbelievable. Some strands are pure white blond, while others are highlighted with honey tones.

  “Is that natural?” I ask her, pointing to her long tresses.

  She finally looks up at me, throwing her hair back with a smile. Fucking Goldilocks. She’s so damned stunning it’s almost painful to look at her. She should come with a warning label.

  “Yeah,” she says shyly. “I want to dye it darker.”

  “No fucking way,” I tell her, setting my glass—fingernail included—down. “Keep it that way or you’ll be in trouble with me.”

  “You probably won’t even call me again after today,” she says with an innocent, sad look.

  And how I fucking wish I could tell her that isn’t true. That I’ll be on the phone as soon as tomorrow comes, begging to see her again. But I can’t. We both know it’s not true, though I assume the reasons she’s thinking are quite different from the truth.

  “Come here, kitten,” I say softly.

  “Stop calling me that,” she replies in a sad little voice.

  “Why?”

  “I have a name.”

  “But you haven’t told me what it is,” I remind her, and she blushes. It’s followed up by a cute little giggle and I stare at her, drinking in every single feature of that beautiful face.

  “I can’t,” she says. “I could get in trouble.”

  “Well, okay then.” I smile warmly. “No names. Only ‘kitten’ and….”

  She looks up at me. “Mister?” she suggests with a cute little smile. “Or Sir….”

  I swear to fucking God, my cock hardens and twitches as soon as I hear her say that word. “Sir would be perfect,” I tell her, coming a step closer. “How much did you have to drink tonight, kitten?”

  “Not enough,” she says.

  “Why not enough?”

  “Because I’m scared,” she says, looking down at the floor.

  I move closer. I do what I’ve wanted to do for a while now, tugging on a strand of her pretty hair. “Why is my kitten scared?”

  “You…” she says slowly. “You’re older than… what I’m used to.”

  “Does it bother you?” I ask her, tucking the hair behind her ear. “You want to leave? You know you can, right?”

  She shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t want to go,” she protests. “Please, don’t make me leave again.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble with your parents?” I ask, and she averts her eyes.

  “Sh-they think I’m with Stacy, celebrating my birthday at her place.”

  “Stacy, also known as Kendra?” I grin at her. “S
he seemed more interested in me than the celebrations.”

  I toy with her hair, twirling it around my fingers. “Is it really your birthday, kitten?”

  She nods, and I twirl and twirl the strands until I reach her ears. Then I tug again, harder this time. Her head bobs and it makes me ache to see her naked, on her knees and sucking my dick like a good girl should be doing.

  “Really eighteen?” I ask her sharply. “I don’t want any fucking trouble.”

  “I swear,” she tells me, a sincere look in her eyes as she stares longingly into mine.

  “Okay,” I say. “Can you prove it? What year were you born?”

  “1998,” she says without hesitation. I know if she was making shit up, it would take her a second longer to come up with the right year, and I nod at her, pleased with her answer.

  “Sit down for me,” I instruct her, pointing towards my couch. She fidgets nervously before obeying, and my cock jerks in response to seeing what a good girl she is.

  I walk over to her, sitting down next to her on the couch. She’s pulling down on her dress, as if she’s suddenly self-conscious about showing too much skin. Bit late for that now. I do what I’ve wanted to do all freaking night, touching her hair and tucking a strand of it behind her ear.

  She looks at me again, her eyes wide and almost fearful, and it makes my cock throb almost painfully in my jeans. We’re so quiet, so careful around each other. The room is almost spinning from the tension as my eyes zone in on hers. She really is a beauty.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she whispers, her lips barely parting to get the words out. I nod, my finger tracing from her ear to her cheek, gently grazing across her mouth. Her lips are plump and moist from being licked just a moment ago, and she looks absolutely exquisite.

  When my finger starts trailing down her neck, her head drops back and a throaty little moan escapes her. My hand instinctively goes to my pants, holding my dick in my fist.

  Her eyes find mine, then slowly travel down between my legs, seeing the outline of my hard cock. Her pupils dilate as she watches me stroke through the material, slow, lazy motions as I rub her throat with my thumb.

  She moves closer, just a few inches, but I can tell she wants to be next to me. Her head goes down, and she blushes deeply as I touch myself. I don’t want her looking down, though; I want her eyes on mine, so I take hold of her chin and tip her head back.