Stripped: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Brook Wilder

  “Perfect, I knew he’d like something bold,” Kate said, smiling. “I gotta go, but be sure to tell me all about it tomorrow,” she winked.

  “Alright,” Della said. She was beaming, mostly because she’d reconciled with her best friend. Deep down in her heart she hoped that they would never have to fight again, and that Kate would be more accepting of her choices. She wished she would stop worrying about her, but the truth was, Della wasn’t any less worried than Kate was. She knew her own safety was at risk, and so was Prescott’s, but she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. Prescott was always going to be a part of the Hell’s Reavers, and that’s something she just had to deal with if she wanted to be with him. If she wanted them to raise a child together. So she tried to look on the bright side: their future together.

  Della unlocked the door, stepped inside and skipped up the stairs to their bedroom. She knew Prescott would be home any second now, and she wanted to slip into her new lingerie as quickly as possible before he got back. She rushed into the bathroom, throwing on the thongs and marvelling at how bouncy her butt had become during the last couple of months of her pregnancy. She put the bra on and thought the same thing about her boobs, too. Her nipples were erect, probably because of how much she’d been thinking about fucking Prescott for the past hour. Her lips curved to a smile as she snuck out of the bathroom and bounced on the bed, rolling around half-naked and thinking about all the things she’d like Prescott to do to her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Soon enough, she heard his keys rustle in the lock downstairs, and she could hear him come up. Della laid back and stared at the door until Prescott appeared in the doorway, dark circles around his eyes. As soon as he saw her, his jaw dropped, and she bit her lip as his eyes roamed her body.

  “Wow, just wow,” he said. He was beaming. He had been at the clubhouse all day, his worries multiplying each hour, each second he spent plotting Al’s downfall. The truth was, he was growing tired of all of this, but he wasn’t giving up. He was nowhere near giving up. Prescott thought he would avenge his father if it were the last thing he would ever do. But one thing was for sure, though. At the end of each day, the one thing he looked forward to was coming to home to Della. That feeling flourished recently as her belly grew bigger and bigger, Prescott’s hopes of a more stable life grew with it. He knew becoming a father would change his life for the better, but with fatherhood came a lot of responsibility. But he wasn’t going to think about that now. It was their one year anniversary, and the only thing he wanted right now was to make love to the beautiful mother of his child.

  “Happy anniversary, babe,” Della said in her newly established sultry tone. She patted the pillow next to her, reeling him in with the way she fluttered her eyelashes as she spoke to him. On the nightstand stood a bottle of champagne, and, placed next to it, was another, smaller bottle of apple cider.

  “You did all of this for me?” he asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed next to her.

  “What, you mean dress up?” she asked, eyeing him. “Hell, yeah, I would do anything for you tonight,” she said.

  “Anything?” he asked, leaning in close to her.

  “Anything,” Della repeated with a smile. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as his lips locked onto hers, a gentle yet wanting kiss that immediately sent her back to the dressing room. She allowed herself to swoon at the touch of his lips, the texture rough and wet against hers as she kissed him back with equal passion. She could already feel the breath in her chest catch, just the thought of having him, of loving him, excited her.

  Prescott’s hand found the side of her thigh, and he began to rub it softly, moving ever so closer inwards. Della smiled against his lips and pushed a hand against his chest.

  “Someone’s eager,” she whispered, her voice soft and sultry.

  “You said anything,” Prescott returned her smile.

  Della stood up slowly, standing in front of him and savoring the way his eyes took her in.

  “I did, didn’t I?” she teased.

  Prescott turned her around, gently running his hands up and down her back as he kissed the small of her back. She felt his touch like bolts of electricity racing through her, every kiss sending a new gamut of shivers up and down her body. She lowered herself onto his lap, gently rotating her hips against his erection, feeling how hard he was through his pants. Prescott’s hand wrapped around her, gently caressing the bump that was their child, his lips never leaving her neck as she moved against him.

  One hand found the inside of her thigh again and gently made its way between her legs, touching her through the fabric of her panties and pressing against her, matching the rotation of her hips. She could feel his breath against her shoulder become stronger, more urgent, and she bit her lip in anticipation of what this night could lead to. She reveled in how she was making him feel, how his hands pressed hard against her as she felt herself becoming wetter.

  Prescott grabbed her by the hips and lifted her back onto her feet, gently sitting her down beside him as he pulled off his shirt. Della began to unbuckle his pants when he gently held her hands and stared right into her eyes.

  “Lay back,” his voice was heavy, a soft command with a hint of a promise that made her tingle. Della pushed back onto the bed and laid down, her eyes never leaving his as he stood up and quickly undressed. He bent down over her, careful not to rest his weight on top of her, his muscles taut as he kissed her lips and then moved downwards.

  Prescott slid her panties off slowly, teasing, and tossed them to the side. Their eyes never left each other, and as his head lowered, she slowly closed her own and stiffened as she waited. The touch of his lips against her sent the first of many bolts of pleasure through her, and as he pushed her legs further apart, widening her, opening her for him, his tongue found her wetness with ease.

  Della closed her eyes and allowed a soft moan to escape her lips. She reached out and clenched the sheets over her head. Prescott’s tongue slid in and out of her, up and down, softly building the pressure inside her to the point where she felt she would explode. When his tongue found her clit, she let out a soft scream along with the rush of blood to her head. His tongue twirled, his lips sucked, and his hands squeezed her cheeks as he worked. Della found herself rotating her hips against his face, one leg wrapped around the flexed muscles of his back. She grabbed his hair and pressed him hard against her as she rocked against his tongue and lips. Within seconds, she was screaming in pleasure, her orgasm rocking her, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as he continued his relentless attack.

  “Oh God, stop, stop!” she giggled, feeling the heat in her chest spread through the rest of her body in waves.

  Prescott pushed up and smiled at her as she rolled onto her side, eyes closed, the smile on her face wide. She felt the bed move as he climbed up behind her and hugged her, his hand wrapping around her with ease, one hand caressing her stomach.

  “Stopping wasn’t part of the agreement,” he nibbled her ear. She could feel his hardness against her, and she teasingly grinded her hips.

  “There was an agreement?” she asked seductively.

  Prescott groaned against her ear, an affirmation that didn’t need more than that.

  “Then I apologize, Mr. Graves,” Della whispered. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

  “Who said anything about you stopping me?” Prescott groaned.

  His hand reached down between her legs, one finger pressing against her clit and sending new bolts of pleasure through her. She felt him lift one leg, and before she knew what was happening, he slid inside her. Della almost screamed at how hard he was, filling her completely with his cock, pushing deep inside her as his chest pressed up against her back. Della reached behind her and clasped his hair in a fist as he hungrily kissed her neck. He began to rock, slowly at first, then picking up speed, and with one hand rubbing her while the other held her close, Della felt her body go through one explosion after the other.


  She lost herself in their love making, reveling in the mix of animalistic wanting and loving need. His thrust filled her, his grunts a clear sign of how much he had needed this, had needed her. But his touch was soft, his hands caressing her, his lips like flutters against her skin. And one hand never left her belly. She marveled at how delicate yet demanding he could be, how he could make her hungrily want so much more but be fully content with just giving in to what was happening. The emotions that raced through her were overwhelming, and as he moved against her, as he caressed and kissed her, she felt like she had fallen in love with Prescott Graves all over again.

  Della felt a third orgasm explode inside her, and unable to hold back anymore, she pulled away from him, turned around and pushed him back, then quickly straddled him. His hands reached up, squeezing her breasts as she unclasped her bra. She bent down, the fabric barely off as he took a taut nipple into his mouth and sucked on it hungrily. Della moaned in pleasure, rubbing against his erection before slowly sliding him back inside.

  The sounds of their lovemaking rocked the room, her moans echoing against the walls, his grunts louder than hers. Their eyes locked onto each other as she moved against him, slow and steady, grinding in long strokes. She could see the pleasure wash over him, the film of ecstasy over his eyes as she moved. His hands squeezed her breasts, thumbs rubbing against her nipples, her moans making him push against her as she moved.

  A few more strokes, and she felt his entire body flex against her. His hands grabbed her waist and held her tight, forcing her to stop as his hips rose. She shivered as his eyes rolled back and he groaned out loud, and she squeezed down on him as he exploded inside her.

  They stayed like that for a few more seconds, Prescott catching his breath as she lovingly ran her hand against his cheek. When his muscles relaxed, when the hands around her waist loosened and allowed her to move, she rolled off of him and lay down by his side. He stared off into space, his eyes searching the ceiling as if looking for something before he turned to her. His smile widened and she sighed as she let him pull her into his arms.

  “You do realize you’re fucking perfect, right?” Della asked, raising her eyes at Prescott.

  “Oh, you think I didn’t know that?” he teased, brushing a hand through her hair. The truth was, he hadn’t felt this happy, this relieved, in a very long time. Della was his safe harbor, his comfort-zone, the person he came back home to after a stressful day. He couldn’t think of a woman to replace her, and at that point, he knew for a fact that he couldn’t live without her. He had grown so used to having her around the house, supporting him, making him feel like everything was going to be okay. He could go through Hell’s fire and still be reassured that Della would be waiting for him on the other side. She was his everything, and he was hers, too.

  “I’d let you bask in that moment if you didn’t worry me so much,” Della said, a smirk on her face.

  “That’s an attempt to throw shade at me?” Prescott asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

  “It wasn’t, no,” Della said, giggling. “I just thought I’d push your buttons a little,” she continued, looking up at him.

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes locked on hers. “Hey, don’t push my buttons,” he chuckled. “That’s my job.”

  “It kind of is,” Della said, rolling her eyes. “And you never get tired of it, too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Prescott asked, suddenly defensive.

  “I’m kidding,” Della said, brushing it off. But something about the immediacy of her tone told Prescott she was serious.

  “You’re not, though, are you?” he asked. “When do I get on your nerves?”

  “You don’t, okay? Jesus,” Della said, placing a hand on her forehead. There was a pause. “You just... put me in the dark sometimes,” she continued.

  Prescott didn’t say anything. He knew where this conversation would end up if he took it a step farther; the same place it always did. He knew that, if he decided to get defensive the way he always did, Della would freak out, and none of that was necessarily good for her at this point. “I don’t mean to worry you, or to put you in the dark” he breathed. “I promised I’d protect you, no matter what. Why do you always seem to think I don’t mean that?” he asked.

  “Because you’re not in control of everything, Prescott. And sometimes I wish you would understand that. The world doesn’t work that way, you’re not always in control.” Della let out a sigh. She had promised herself she wouldn’t argue, especially on their anniversary, but a part of her knew she was only bottling it up, that she was bound to confront him about this at some point. She thought that maybe Kate had messed with her head, but still, there was no denying that Della was never fully comfortable with the nature of Prescott’s work. In fact, she was never comfortable at all. She had always been the reserved type that liked to play it safe and even though meeting Prescott had done wonders for her ability to handle stress, she was still the same person, and she expected Prescott to understand that.

  Prescott knew she was right, and yet a nagging part of him wanted to prove her wrong. That stubborn bit of his personality wanted to defend himself and everything he stood for, but he decided against it. A million thoughts were racing through his mind right now, one of them was the fact that Della had no idea about the coup, and he knew he wasn’t going to tell her. Not right now. He had spent a considerable amount of time going over that debate in his head, eventually arriving at the conclusion that telling her would just make everything worse. It was going to stress her out, and no stress was good for a pregnant woman. “I never said I’m always going to be in control,” he said as he massaged the back of her neck with his fingers. “But I’d like to think I’m smart enough to tell when I am in full control,” he continued.

  Della rolled her eyes. She knew how hard-headed Prescott could be, and how he’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. But a part of her felt like he was hiding something, and she couldn’t quite shake that feeling off. “Prescott,” she said gravely. “You’re up to something, and I don’t know what it is. It’s making me worried,” she said, crawling up from underneath the covers. She was now in a seated position, eyeing him as he pretended to fumble with the knick knacks on the nightstand.

  “You’re just paranoid,” he said. “And I think you’ve been with me for long enough to know that everything about this business is unpredictable. Something is always up, and I can’t always know what’s going to happen in the future,” he continued.

  But Della wasn’t convinced. It was something about his tone of voice and his overall demeanor that made her doubt him. He wasn’t telling the truth, and Della thought she knew him well enough to figure out that he was hiding something from her. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?” she asked suddenly. “Of course you’re not going to tell me, because you know for a fact that what you’re doing is risky. You’re going to get yourself killed, Prescott. Is that what you want?!” At that point, her face was flushed and her eyes darted back and forth frantically. She was surprised at how cold he was being; pretending to fumble around with whatever it was that he could get his hands on. He grabbed the bottle of cider off the nightstand and popped it open, pouring some of it into Della’s glass.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing it to her. “A non-alcoholic beverage for the pregnant lady.” But Della wasn’t laughing. “Hey,” Prescott said, realizing he wasn’t about to joke his way out of this. “I’m not hiding anything from you, and I’m not planning to do anything drastic, either.” He paused, searching her face for a reaction. “Now, can we just go to bed, please? I have to be up by five in the morning for a meeting,” he said, already rolling over to his side and giving his back to her.

  “What meeting?” Della asked, peering over his shoulder.

  “Just a regular meeting at the clubhouse,” he said, turning the lights off.

  Della didn’t say anything. She just let out a loud sigh, and clenche
d her eyes and rubbed her belly for comfort. She knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. Whenever something was bothering her or making her anxious, she’d stay up all night thinking about it. What was Prescott hiding from her? A part of her wanted to follow Kate’s advice and not get too involved, but then again, she was involved just by being with him, let alone carrying his child. She knew she was as much of a target as he was, but she told herself she would pull it together if she truly wanted to be with him. She thought she would’ve gotten used to it by now, but the truth was, she was nowhere near that. She was filled with doubt, wondering if she had made the right decision to be with him. But whenever her mind strayed in that direction, she found herself being tugged at by an invisible force telling her that it’s going to be okay, that Prescott was the one for her. That thought comforted her, and the fact that she was carrying his baby served as enough proof that they were meant for each other.