VOID: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Stella Noir

  "Any trouble?" he asks, the question directed at me, but eyeing Peter, whose hurt stare tells me more about the way he feels than I'm comfortable knowing at this point.

  "It's okay," I tell Jed, touching him on the lower arm that he's holding up to protect me. "Peter was just about to leave."

  "Peter," he repeats. "So, you're Peter?"

  "Who the fuck are you?" Peter barks up at Jed. It's so pathetic that I almost feel sorry for him. "Are you her bodyguard, or what? She not allowed to speak for herself?"

  "I am speaking for myself, Peter," I tell him. "I've been telling you again and again to leave me alone, but you don't respect my wishes."

  He looks at me, then back at Jed. As his eyes fly back and forth between us, I can see a realization form behind his eyes. The realization that he has lost, that there really is no chance for us to get back together. Ever.

  "So, that's what you're into now," he utters, his voice quivering. "A fucking gangster boy."

  Jed flinches, and I squeeze his arm, trying to hold him back. I want Peter to leave, but I don't want him to get beaten up by someone twice his size with 10 times the experience when it comes to fighting. He stands no chance against an ex-Marine like Jed. It wouldn't be a fair fight, and even Peter doesn't deserve this.

  Jed's muscles are flexed, and I can tell that he's this close to jumping at Peter. I pray to God that Peter will just shut up and leave.

  He fixates his glare on me, hurt and rage shimmering in those gray eyes I once used to love.

  "So, you finally got your bad boy, huh," he hisses. "You're going to regret this. You're going to –"

  "Peter!" I interrupt him. "Leave. Please."

  The tension is almost unbearable. People are staring at us. I'm sure some of them are hoping for a fight, a little afterwork entertainment so they have a story to tell when they get home.

  They must be disappointed when Peter finally concedes defeat. He casts one last glower at me and Jed before he turns away from us and walks away.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jed

  So, that was the infamous Peter. She has mentioned her troubled ex-boyfriend before, but never showed much interest in talking about him, which was perfectly fine with me.

  Until today.

  Seeing how much he still manages to fuck with her head drives me mad. She shouldn't have to feel this way.

  I'm hit by a weird kind of jealousy, as I find myself questioning if she's ever looked or felt this distraught because of me. I don't want to make her feel bad, that's not it. But having an impact on her heart and mind like this guy does...

  The thought that he might have this power over her and I don't makes me feel like I'm choking.

  She's quiet and diverted during the entire drive to my place. Usually, I would welcome silence, as too much chattering annoys the hell out of me. That's one of the reasons I find her so attractive. She's a quiet one. Nosy, but quiet when it's asked of her. Just like me, she doesn't need many words to express how she feels, what she needs. She's expressive in other ways.

  But tonight, I wish she'd speak to me. Her silence worries me, and the fact that she waves me off with a simple "I'm fine" every time I try to address it doesn't make things any easier. On the contrary.

  I offer her a drink when we get to my place, and she gladly takes it. We're sitting on the sofa together, drinking, touching and kissing, but hardly talking. It's apparent that she's distracted because of what happened tonight, and I'm determined to get this guy off her mind. There’s no room for this guy in her heart or mind anymore, and I'll make sure that his disturbed image is replaced by mine.

  I take the drink out of her hand and let my hands glide beneath her dress. I told her that I like it when she wears skirts and dresses, and since then she's worn one almost every time we meet. The weather has gotten cold and she's wearing pantyhose underneath. They're the first thing to go when I begin undressing her.

  She closes her eyes and moans when my hands wander back up her naked legs, staying at the inside of her thighs, slowly approaching her warm center. She's wearing a black, lacy thong with a translucent gem attached right above her mound.

  "Do you like it?" she asks, her eyes shimmering with hope. "It's new."

  "Did you buy it for me?" I ask, trailing along the inside of her thigh.

  She quivers at my touch and manages to nod. "Yes, I did."

  "I like that," I whisper. "It looks hot on you."

  I continue undressing her by pulling her dress over her head. Her perky breasts are hidden inside a matching bra that dons the same translucent gem at her decollete. I've never seen her wear lingerie like this. She looks stunning, but what is even more enticing than the outfit itself is the way she's carrying it. She casts me a coy smile, her eyelashes flickering nervously as she sees me assess her getup.

  She's wearing it just for me. She went out and bought this with me in mind, and she's nervous to see how I like it. That's the real turn on.

  The savage in me wants to rip the beautiful lingerie off her body, bend her over and take her without mercy, just to show her how well she's done. But I refrain. Instead, I sit down next to her on the sofa and tell her to get up.

  She casts me a confused look, but follows my orders immediately, without question.

  "Let me look at you," I say, leaning back into the cushions as I open my pants to free my hard cock. It's been twitching and pushing against its constraints since we started kissing, and I don't want to to keep it locked away any longer.

  Lily is standing in front of me, her cheeks blushed as she models the lingerie she bought to wear for me. She's nothing like the girls at the club; she's no Candice. She doesn't move and tease like those girls do, but looks rather lost at the attention she's receiving for looking so beautiful. I love that about her.

  Her eyes wander down to my lap when I free my erection and start stroking it while watching her.

  "See what you're doing to me," I tell her. "Looking so fucking beautiful. I should punish you for that."

  Her eyes flicker at the word punish, giving me an idea of what to do next.

  "Turn around for me," I tell her. "Show me that perfect ass of yours."

  Her chest heaves with deep breaths as she tries to conceal how nervous and aroused she is. She turns around and bends over, exposing her round ass to me. It's the most delicious view, and for a few moments I just sit there, stroking my length as I take in the appearance of her trembling, sexy body. She gets off on the small humiliation this is causing.

  Let's see what else she might like. I lean forward and raise my hand. She can't see what I'm doing, but her body quivers with anticipation because she knows there's something coming.

  I don't hold back. My hand meets her naked ass with such force that it instantly leaves a red mark across her right cheek. She gasps in a mix of surprise and pain, and I add two more slaps before she's done processing what's happening to her.

  She's panting and trembling, but hasn't changed position or turned around in outrage.

  She's loving this, but I won't hear her say it.

  I add two more slaps, then a third, so both sides of her bum are evenly marked. She yelps in pain during the last two, which is a sign for me that she's done. I take hold of her wrist and pull her around and back to me. She averts eye contact, her cheeks are fiery red, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say she looks distraught.

  "Look at me," I tell her.

  She obeys and her watery eyes find mine. Her mouth is partly opened and her chest is heaving under heavy breaths. She looks desperate – and drunk with lust. My hand finds the warm channel of moistness beneath her thighs. I move aside the fabric of her lacy thong and let one finger slide between her lips. The slickness I find is all the confirmation I need. Her wet pussy clenches around me when I add another finger. She's standing, trying everything to maintain her composure while I finger her with one hand and work my cock with the other.

  "Sit on it," I command.

  I withdraw m
y hand and lean back, inviting her onto my lap. She obediently follows and straddles me, her eyes fixated on mine as she guides my length inside her warm center.

  "Ride me," I breathe. "Ride me until you come."

  She moans as she accommodates my thick, rigid cock inside her tight pussy and nods – and then she rides me like the good girl she is. She moves her hips back and forth, grinding on me and taking what she needs, while I enjoy the sight of her. I grab her by the hips and support her erotic motions, feeling myself get harder inside her clenching pussy.

  I won't last long tonight, and I can tell that neither will she. The desperation with which she uses my cock for her pleasure is palpable. I know her well enough to be aware that she won't find her climax without my help. Or so I think. Just as I'm about to reach for her swollen clit, she pushes my hand aside and changes the angle in which she's fucking me, while I sit in awe and watch her doing her thing.

  This is the first time that I don't see her release approaching, and she seems to be just as surprised as I am. She throws her head back and groans loudly as her muscles tighten around me, causing me to follow within moments. We explode, both of us moaning as if in pain, while I fill her with my seed, just now realizing that we neglected the condom.

  "Fuck," she breathes, holding on to my shoulders as she goes through the last waves of her orgasm.

  Our eyes meet, and when she sees mine, she immediately understands and casts my worries aside.

  "I'm on birth control."

  She gets up from my lap and falls down on the sofa next to me. I collect her in my arms and press her dainty body against mine. She tenses up for a moment, before she allows herself to relax and places her small hand on my chest.

  This must be confusing to her because cuddling and aftercare aren't really my thing. It's been part of our routine to let go of each other with a kiss once our last climax has died down. We get dressed, I call her a car to make sure she gets home safely, and then we part ways. I know this is not what women want, which is why it's all the more surprising to me that she's still here and continues to come back to me.

  Today, I won't let her go just like that. Jealousy is raging inside of me like a wild animal. It's been such a long time since I've felt this way and it confuses the hell out of me.

  She belongs to me, but that son of a bitch still manages to get inside her head and causes her to be distracted while she's with me. I hate that, and I don't want to have to deal with this any longer.

  "What's his problem?" I ask, stroking along her upper arm.

  She tilts her head back, throwing a quizzical look up at me.

  "Peter, you mean?"

  "Of course," I say. "That guy really... gets to you."

  Lily furls her brows.

  "We've been together for a long time," she says. "Of course, it bothers me when he turns into a creepy asshole. I'm worried about him. I thought I knew him, and I used to love him."

  "Used to," I repeat.

  I avert her eyes, but I know she's looking at me, trying to comprehend what I'm suggesting. Hell, I don't even know why I said that. This fucking jealousy makes me act like an idiot.

  "Yes, used to," she clarifies. "I broke up with him for a reason. I was hoping we could stay friends, but he didn't take the breakup as well as I hoped he would."

  "Why did you break up with him?" I want to know.

  She chuckles. "Are you interviewing me now?"

  If she's making fun of me, it doesn't sit well. I shake my head. "No, I'm just making conversation."

  "Well," she says, stretching and sighing in my embrace. "What if I don't want to tell you? What if I want to stay full of secrets just like you?"

  Our eyes meet and I see the flickering in hers. She's enjoying this a little too much.

  "I'm not full of secrets," I object.

  "Oh, yes you are," she disagrees.

  "You're just mad because you didn't get your interview on first try," I suggest. "I told you I'm not the right candidate for your story and I'm sorry that Joe made you believe otherwise."

  She smiles. "That's okay. I'll get my story done either way. I just...."

  She pauses and lowers her eyes.

  "What is it?"

  "I have so many questions," she declares. "There's so much I want to know about you, as a person. But I'm afraid to ask anything because you might think I'm still the journalist, hunting for a story."

  She looks at me with pleading eyes. The light makeup around them is smudged from our wild play and the tears she shed while floating through her second and third orgasm. I love her after-sex look, the facade of the good girl all broken down and crumbled because of me.

  "It's hard for me to trust people," I say. "And I'm sure you know enough about me to understand that certain things are better kept locked away."

  Her blue eyes flicker with understanding. I don't know what Joe has told her about me. I know him well enough to trust his judgment in that regard. If he had told her everything there was to know, she wouldn't be left hanging with all those questions she claims to have. But he must have told her enough for her to be aware of some of the darkness that I've walked through during recent years.

  "Yes," she whispers. "I understand that. But still.... It's just.... Ugh, you know, I know we're not really dating, and we have that rule about not doing the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. But you know what...?"

  She looks at me, her expression turning into clear determination.

  "I don't really see the difference. We see each other all the time. All that's missing is a real date – and communication, talking."

  "Exactly," I say. "That's what you signed up for."

  "Then, tell me," she says, beaming at me as if she's just won an argument. "What's this? What am I still doing here, and why do you start asking questions about my former relationship?"

  Touché. She's got me there.

  "Well, your crazy ex-boyfriend showed up and threatened you tonight," I tell her. "Isn't that reason enough to address him?"

  She smirks at me, casting me a cute "come on, be serious" look.

  "What if I tell you I want to change the rules?" I ask her. "I get to ask questions, and so do you. To a certain degree."

  "And a proper date!" she demands. "A dinner. A movie. Stuff like that."

  I fixate my gaze on her through narrow eyes. "Let's start with a dinner some day and we'll go from there."

  "Some day?" she asks.

  "Not tonight," I say. "If we're doing this, I want to do it right."

  She shrugs. "All right. I won't argue with that."

  I'm smiling like an idiot when she cuddles up to me and squeezes my arm as if to confirm the revaluation we just afforded our non-relationship.

  Fuck this. I never expected this to happen, but it's too late for me to get out of it because I don't want to anymore. The black void that is my heart starts to pulsate with an energy that it has lacked for years.

  I vowed I couldn't do this again, I vowed I would always remain loyal to only one, even though I knew she wouldn't want me to. She always wanted to see me happy. We talked about these things on grim days often enough because death was closer to our home than others.

  But I couldn't let go. A small part of me still feels as if I'm betraying her, not by sleeping with another woman, but by getting as close to Lily as I was to her.

  And I'm scared. I'm fucking scared about having to go through the same shit again. The terror of that loss still haunts me, and I don't like the prospect of it happening to me again.

  As I look at Lily's beautiful and love drunken eyes, I'm beginning to realize that it really is too late. For both of us.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jed

  "So, why did you break up with him?" I repeat my earlier question as I prepare us each a cup of tea in my hardly used kitchen. Coffee, tea and alcohol are pretty much the only things I can offer her because my home only serves these essential liquids.

  Lily purses her lips. She's sitting on a stool sidle
d up to the counter, wearing one of my robes and playing with her hair while she watches me work in the kitchen.

  "You are really curious," she says.

  "So are you," I reply. "We have a lot in common that way."

  "It's just occupational habit for me," she says. "I need to be curious to be good at my job."

  "Sure," I say, casting her a look.

  "Tell me."

  She rolls her eyes and sighs.

  "It just didn't work out," she says. "We weren't compatible."

  "Compatible?" I ask. "How so?"

  I walk over to the counter, supporting myself on my elbows as I lean over to her.

  Her eyes find mine and she looks at me with a mischievous smile.

  "He wasn't what I want in a man," she says. "Too boring. Too conventional."

  "Didn't seem that boring to me," I object. "The way he stalks you and takes hold of your mind like that. You couldn't stop thinking about him all evening."

  She gazes at me with focus, her eyes narrowing.

  "Are you jealous?" she asks, hitting it right on the spot.

  I let out a snort of dismissive laughter. "That's ridiculous."

  "No, it's cute," she argues, winking at me. "But yeah, I have to agree on that other part, too. It is ridiculous."

  I avert her eyes and turn around to get our tea. When I return with two hot cups of what the salesperson described as Mango Rain, Lily finds it in herself to give me more than the vague answer she did before.

  "I always told him that I needed more excitement, more danger even," she says. "With him, I always knew what I would get. No matter with regards to what. He was reliable, which is a good thing, but it can get very lame. There were no surprises, nothing that would keep me on my toes."

  "In bed?" I ask.

  She huffs. "Yeah, in bed, too. But it's not just that. I think in a way Peter was just too much like me."

  She pauses and tries to take a first sip of her tea. It's still too hot, but I let her realize that on her own and amuse myself with the cute face she's making upon burning her tongue.