Made: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boy Games)

by Slater, Danielle

  “Nathan? Can you come here?”

  I rush through the doorway, my nine-millimeter in my hand, to find Brooke standing next to an open and very full suitcase. Her arms are folded under her breasts. She doesn’t look happy. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything.” She waves a hand over the jumble. “The suitcase was delivered this morning, but everything in it is sized for Samantha.”

  “So? Don’t chicks borrow each other’s clothes all the time?”

  “Obviously, you haven’t noticed that I’m about five inches taller than Samantha. We don’t wear the same sizes.” She points to a short stack of folded t-shirts on the edge of the bed. “Those are the only things that will fit except for a couple of skirts.”

  Again, no pants. I like where things are going. “So wear that stuff.”

  She glares at me. “No. Either you take me home so I can collect some things from my closet, or we go shopping.”

  “You can’t go home.”

  “Then shopping it is.”

  “Whatever. Get dressed.” I’m about to turn around and give her some privacy when I notice the corner of a cell phone sticking out from under a layer of tumbled shirts. Brooke catches on the minute I see the phone. We both lunge for it. I’m faster. Once the phone is in my hand, I step back from her, holding the phone out of her reach.

  “Give that back.”

  “Oh yeah? Where’d you get it?” Because I know it wasn’t on her when she left the Eye last night. I checked. Players are only allowed certain pieces of technology and each has to be registered.

  “If you must know, Mr. De Luca, gave it to me.”

  What the fuck is Marco De Luca doing making sure Brooke has a phone? Come to think of it, it’s odd that he wasn’t in the Eye last night while Tucker negotiated with Ferrara and de Hainault.

  Unless Tucker shut him out.

  A new layer of possibility settles over my theories, but I can’t see what it changes.

  “Marco came to see you last night?” There’s an edge to my voice I don’t like but can’t seem to do anything about. Everything about this woman sets me on edge and makes me ready to fight or fuck.

  She sighs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but—”

  “We’re playing on the same team, so yes, it is my business. What was Marco Fucking De Luca doing in your room?”

  She lifts an elegant brow and silence spools out between us.

  “You’re going to have to tell me sooner or later so you might as well get it over with now.”

  “He didn’t say I couldn’t tell you, but I got the impression he thought it would be better if I kept the fact I had the cell phone to myself.” She shakes her head. “I hate this. All of it. I can’t imagine why having a phone is a problem.”

  “That’s because it’s against the rules for a player to possess a phone that’s not registered.”

  “How am I supposed to know that?”

  “You don’t.” I toss the phone back on the bed. “But I can promise you one thing: if that phone came from De Luca, it’s not registered, which means it can’t be tracked and monitored during the game.”

  Crinkles form around her eyes. “Does that help us or hurt us?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “How?”

  “Use the phone. Then we wait and see who makes a move.” I hand her the phone.

  “Does it matter who I call?”

  From my pocket, I extract a sticky note I’d been thinking of tossing in the trash. Now I’m glad I kept it. I pass it to her. “Try this number.”

  She stares at it. “Who’s on the other end.”

  “Your friend, what’s her name? Carley?”

  “Caylee.”

  “Yeah, her. You were so worked up last night wanting to know if she was all right. . .” My voice trails off because I feel fucking lame.

  Tears well in Brooke’s eyes. She launches herself at me and wraps me in a quick hug. “Thank you, Nathan. I knew I was right about you.”

  Something in my chest twists. I can’t place it, but I know it’s a feeling that’s either new or one I haven’t had in a long time. Even though she’s just a pawn in the game, I’m responsible for her, which sucks for me and makes life more complicated for her.

  I hate complications.

  Her hand snakes between us and slips behind my belt. It’s a tight fit, so I offer to unfasten it.

  “Let me.” She sinks to her knees, working the buckle and zipper like a pro. My cock springs free from containment, huge and ready. Obediently, she opens her mouth. That’s all it takes for pleasure to flood my veins. I sink my fingers in her damp hair as she wraps her lips around my cock and starts sucking. Her tongue gets into the act, working my shaft back and forth and all around.

  She’s a pawn, I’m a bastard with a gun, and we’re both stuck in a game where we don’t know the rules. There’s no way this works out in the end for either of us, but I don’t want her to take her lips off my cock. It makes me crazy to think of what might be happening right now if she had to play without me, that ripe mouth on another man’s cock. Even if it’s only for now or as long as the game lasts, she’s mine.

  While her head moves back and forth over my length, and I shove my cock against the back of her throat, I make a promise to myself that Tucker Voss, Alexander Ferrara, and the whole lot can go fuck themselves. One way or another, I’m getting Brooke out of this situation in one piece.

  I drag her to her feet and jerk the stupid H&S bathrobe off her shoulders. It falls to the floor. I kick it away from us. I can’t stand for anything related to H&S to be near us. I want her the way she is at this moment—smelling sweet from the shower and naked for me.

  She smiles shyly. “I’m not very good at blow jobs.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  She sinks to her knees again. I fuck her mouth, making her take me as deeply as she can, even though I’m too big for her. My cock pulses against her throat. When I look down, her tits sway with her movements, but I can’t see them very well. I want them in my face, in my hands. She sucks harder, working me until I’m about to come.

  I pull her to her feet. “I don’t want a pro. I want you.”

  Her eyes gleam in the morning light, and I never want to fuck a woman in the dark again. I want to see her, every beautiful inch and know she’s mine.

  “This game is going to get twisted,” I warn her.

  “Like it hasn’t already?”

  I look around the room, noting a couple of picture frames that are no longer level, a lampshade that’s slightly askew. “You were worried that the room is bugged?”

  “I think they installed cameras, too.”

  “You sure?”

  “I remembered what you said last night about that hallway behind the club and the little office—about it being one of the few places there weren’t any cameras. It just seemed logical they’d put them in the rooms.”

  I take her face in my hands, bring our faces together and whisper, “If you’re right, they’re probably watching us right now.”

  “Why not put on a show for them?”

  I can’t believe she just said that. When I don’t say anything, her jaw tightens, and a hard light turns her blue eyes silver. “We’re going to win. No matter what, we’re going to win.”

  Slowly, I nod, amazed at the way she’s diving headfirst into the game. And here I thought I was going to have to drag her, kicking and screaming. “Then we better make it good for them.”

  “Watch this.” After taking three steps toward the bedroom, she turns back to me and crooks a finger. Her head is slightly tilted, and there’s a slant to her shoulders that thrusts her large tits forward. She’s like a pinup girl come to life. “There’s something I want to show you, but only if you’re a very good boy and follow my orders.”

  “I’m ready for my orders.”

  “I’m going to lay on the bed. I ask questions; you answer. If you’re right, you get to take a step forw
ard.”

  “What happens if I’m wrong?”

  “Oh, poor baby, it’s one step backward, and I’ll be all by myself, naked, on that big bed.”

  I watch her hips sway as she walks into the bedroom and crawls onto the bed. When she’s on all fours with her heart-shaped ass pointed toward me, she whips her head around. “Ready to play?”

  I strip in record time.

  “First question: how many women have you fucked?”

  “You want the truth? I don’t know.”

  She flips onto her back with her head propped on the; her legs spread wide, and two fingers toying with the curls on her mound. It’s torture to stand here with my huge cock straining to reach her. The only thing that makes the game worthwhile is knowing the show we’re putting has to be stellar. It better fucking guarantee we win Round 2.

  “Second question: what’s my favorite color?”

  Shit.

  She sighs in disappointment. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t know. One step back.”

  I take a step forward.

  “Oooh, cheating is not allowed, Mr. Costa.”

  “Fuck the rules.”

  “Third question: when’s my birthday?”

  Finally, an easy one, thanks to the fact I read Tucker’s file on her. “September 13.”

  “One step closer.”

  I take a giant stride.

  “Baby steps, Nathan.”

  “You’re forgetting I don’t play by the rules.”

  I leap onto the bed, ready to cover her with my big body. That idea doesn’t last long. She puts her hands on my chest and pushes me back like she’s the one in charge, and slings her leg across my body, positioning her hips above me. Her hands slide up to my shoulders while her thighs grip my hips. With her hair hanging down and the sly smile on her lips, it’s all I can do not to come right now. I grit my teeth, using every ounce of control I possess, and satisfy myself with feasting on the curve at her waist, the perfect roundness of her tits, the unabashed lust in her eyes.

  So what if she’s only in this game for noble reasons and doesn’t give a shit about me? I don’t fucking care. She’s mine. For now. If she had walked into Dominion wearing a pair of red shoes, she would have been untouchable. I would have been forced to escort her into the arms of some rich asshole who wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like Brooke. Now she’s positioned over my cock, ready to let me fuck her until she screams.

  I bring my hands up and circle them over the globes of her ass, pressing gently but insistently to bring her closer to my aching cock.

  She lifts one hand and shakes a finger at me like a naughty schoolmarm. “Unh, unh, unh! You’re a very bad boy if you think you can break the rules and not pay the price.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You broke the rules when you allowed me onto the bed before I answered all the questions correctly.”

  “Oh no,” she pouts, following my lead like a champ. “Are you going to punish me?”

  “Oh yeah, Daddy has to spank his bad girl.”

  I roll upwards, taking her with me until she’s draped on my lap. My cock presses into her belly. I slap her ass a few times, not hard, but enough to make her skin turn pink.

  “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry I was a bad, bad girl. Please don’t hurt me.”

  My hand cracks down again, harder this time. I’m not sure where the cameras are positioned in the bedroom, but I hope the sick fucks watching are getting their money’s worth.

  Brooke gets into the act by squirming as if she’s in pain. My cock surges against her, and I can’t take it any longer. I lift her onto my lap and bury myself inside her.

  She gasps. “Daddy, you’re so big!”

  With my face masked by her hair, I push my lips against her ear. “Enough with the Daddy crap, all right?”

  She giggles and crushes her lips against mine, lifting her hips at the same time only to go back down. “If you don’t fuck my brains out, I’m going to keep calling you Daddy, over and over and over.”

  And then I don’t fucking care what she calls me, Nathan or Daddy or Santa Claus because she’s riding me hard. Her body rocks back and forth, and her tits are bouncing. She holds on to my shoulders and lets her head fall back, offering those succulent pink nipples to my mouth. I don’t take them, but pinch them instead and manage to produce a moan from her.

  My cock throbs, ready to blow, and still she rocks up and down while her hair swings like she’s a wild thing and she can’t get enough. I sink my teeth into her tit, not hard enough to bite, but enough for a mouthful and suck until she screams. Nathan!

  Her ass lands in my palms and then I’m beating her again, mixing each spank with a massage. It’s getting rough; I can’t help it. I’ve never fucked a woman like this before; never been so close to the edge and about to lose control. Thank God she isn’t a small woman because the way I’m handling her would break a fragile thing.

  With her eyes closed and her face a mask of pure pleasure, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I bury my face in her tits while her pussy grinds on my cock until I can’t take it anymore. In one smooth motion, I rise, turn, flip, only pulling my cock from her wet heat long enough to make the transition before I’m pounding into her again, harder, rougher while she begs for more.

  Fuck me!

  I ram my cock home one last time, and we come together, her walls pulsing around me with relentless strength. I couldn’t pull out if I wanted to. Her moan turns into a strangled sound. I cover her mouth with my lips and swallow the moan, swallow her orgasm, and take all she can give until she shudders one last time and collapses, limp and spent.

  When her eyes open again, they’re bright with merriment. “Thank you for covering me.”

  At first, I don’t know what she’s talking about and then I understand: the surveillance cameras. They’re probably placed at eye level or at least four or five feet off the floor. With my big body on top of hers, whoever’s watching got a better view of my pumping ass than lovely Brooke.

  “Works for me,” I whisper into her hair.

  When I roll away and pull a sheet up over my body, she lifts up on one elbow and traces a line in one of my tattoos. “One of these days you need to tell me what they all mean.”

  She sounds like she thinks we have a future. I can’t bear to burst that bubble while my cock is still wet from her body and throbbing with remembered passion. I slide to the edge of the bed and sit with my back to her. “I’m going to take a shower. Get dressed. We need to get the fuck out of here.”

  “What’s the rush?” She asks this while tracing yet another tattoo with her finger.

  “We’re still in the game, remember?”

  “Yeah, and thanks for reminding me I’m still a pawn.”

  I have an idea—that only works at Brooke’s expense—to push the other side into making a mistake. She said she wanted to win, no matter what. It’s time to screw scruples; time for shit to get real.

  “That was a good fuck. You deserve a reward. Use the number I gave you. Call the other pawn and see how the bitch is doing.”

  Her eyes sink into a well of pain.

  My reward comes from knowing I’m the asshole who hurt her.

  BROOKE

  The phone weighs down my hand like it’s a boat anchor instead of six ounces of glass, metal, and plastic. Tears threaten to slide down my face, but I refuse to cry. I’m nobody’s victim.

  I’m sick of being told what to do and where to go and how I’m supposed to act. I despise not knowing what’s going to happen to me. I hate worrying about Samantha because I have zero trust that Alexander Ferrara will keep his word. I hate being afraid Nathan and I will lose the game when I have no real idea what that will mean for Samantha or us.

  Things might have been rough after our parents died, but Samantha and I fought back. We worked hard. If heaven is real, I hope our parents are looking down and feeling proud of how we’ve managed.

  Now a bunch of men with
more money than God think they can turn me into a pawn in their twisted game?

  Fuck that.

  I might be stuck, but I’m going to win. One way or another, I’m going to walk out of here with all the money they promised, my pride intact, and Samantha at my side.

  I should be embarrassed and filled with remorse about letting myself go and getting into the game even when I knew we had an invisible audience. But I’m not. What’s worse: I loved it. I loved the way Nathan’s powerful body felt when he was on top of me. I loved it when he trembled on the edge of losing control and knowing it was me—plain old Brooke Lopez—who was making him crazy.

  I’d do it all over again and not care if the whole world watched. If that makes me some kind of a slut, so be it. Men use their bodies all the time, in all sorts of ways, and rarely suffer because of it. Instead, they’re praised.

  While Nathan cleans up and dresses the bathroom, I punch the numbers from the note he gave me. After a couple of rings, a gruff, male voice answers. “Daniels.”

  “Is Caylee there?”

  “Who is this? How’d you get this number?”

  “Nathan gave it to me. I just want to talk to—”

  “Hold on.”

  I hear muffled voices and then it’s Caylee on the line. “Hello?”

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you! Are you all right?”

  “Brooke?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Hunter said he thought it was you, but I didn’t believe him.”

  “Hunter? Is he the guy from Dominion last night?”

  “Yeah.” Her answer is subdued, and she doesn’t sound like herself.

  “Did you have your date? How did it go?”

  There’s a long pause where I hear a male voice in the distance. Then it sounds like Caylee puts her hand over the phone and the sound goes dead. In a minute or so, she’s back. “Sorry about that. Hunter asked me a question, and I had to answer.”

  “So he’s the blond guy who looks like he fell out of an MMA ring?”

  “That’s him.”

  “What’s he doing there and what happened to your date?”