Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  “I also said I thought she was too stupid to realize what she’d become involved in,” Marcus recalls. “I talked to her last night, and she isn’t stupid.”

  “And a lot more innocent than we are,” I finish.

  “So what are we doing, Ryker? We could take the money and still not return her to that abusive asshole,” Marcus says.

  “It ain’t about the money. It never was. It’s about respect and fear,” I reply. “He could go to the governor himself and tell him to hand over the entire state budget, and so long as Jacob’s got respect and fear on his side, the governor’s going to ask if he wants a blowjob along with the cash. No. He might lose a little respect, but I doubt it. If anything, he’s upping the fear levels people have of him. He’s gotta show that he won't let anybody take from him what belongs to him, or else he loses something more important than the damn money. The stakes are getting higher and higher between us each minute, and it’s going to come to blood sooner rather than later.”

  “So, what do you want to do?” Marcus asks, and I think, sipping my coffee. It’s hard to think suddenly. All of my thoughts about Jacob are mixed up with my thoughts about Sarah and the way she felt in my arms. It felt so right, but I have to wonder if it was only because she is his. Finally, I come to a conclusion.

  “He ain’t getting her back no matter what,” I say simply, finishing off my coffee. “And I want his four restaurants hit. Not just hit. I want them blown the fuck up. Waters is proud of those fucking restaurants, so we take those away from him. Then, I’m going to go get a fucking workout in, get rid of some stress.”

  I stand up, going to my room where I quickly change. I’ve got my own gym in the basement of the building, so that’s not a problem for security as I leave my bedroom and head toward the elevator. I pause at the door, looking back at Marcus, who’s pulled up a kung fu movie on the computer. “Hey, Marcus?”

  “Yeah?” Marcus says, taking out his earbuds. “You want the computer for something first?”

  “No, not that. Just . . . what I don’t understand is why he treated her like that if he’s willing to pay up? Why would he treat such a beauty that way?”

  Marcus shakes his head, putting his right earbud back in but leaving the video paused. “Beats me. You’re the one who took philosophy and read that Roman fucker and shit. For me, I guess it comes pretty simple.”

  “What’s that?” I ask as Marcus turns back to the computer but still pauses to answer.

  “Some men are just monsters. Have a good lift.”

  Some men are just monsters. And they deserve to die.

  Chapter 10

  Sarah

  “It’s been days. Please, just let me go,” I plead. “You can’t just keep me here forever. He’s going to find you, and then . . . please, he’ll kill us both after this long. He’s a fucking psycho.”

  “I know that,” Ryker says. “But I’m not letting you go, Sarah. I did a quick little remodeling job, though. I have a secure room for you.”

  He comes over and unlocks the handcuff, not at the bedpost like he’s always done before but at my wrist. Rubbing at my wrist, looking at the light pink mark there, I follow him to the elevator, where he takes me downstairs. It feels longer than when I was over his shoulder, and when the door opens, I see why. “We’re underground.”

  “Exactly,” Ryker says. “And the other day, after our talk, I did a lift down here, and I realized I had a better, more secure place than locking you up in a spare bedroom all day.”

  Ryker takes out a key and unlocks a door, and I’m surprised by what I see. “But it’s a cell.”

  He looks around, humming. “I suppose you can see it that way.”

  See it that way? The walls are cinderblock, the vaulted heights of the penthouse have been replaced by a ceiling just a few inches above my head, and the rich carpet’s been replaced by what looks like industrial carpeting that was puzzle mats earlier. While there’s a cabinet, there isn’t a lot more unless the corner section that’s covered by a moveable curtain is hiding something special. “How could I see it any other way? Ryker, there are no windows.”

  He nods, leading me inside and closing the door behind us. “Of course there aren’t. That wouldn’t be very secure now, would it? But there’s also no chains in this room. Back in the day, this used to be the office for the maintenance guy back when he lived on site. You’ve got running water and a toilet.”

  Ryker shows me the curtained off area, and he’s right, and while the toilet’s old-looking, it’s in decent shape and the water flows clear at least. “Better yet, check this out.”

  He opens the cabinet, and I’m surprised to find a TV with a PlayStation attached. “It’s an older one, and I’m not sure if it’s your thing, but it can pass the time until this shit is over. But like I said, no chains.”

  I look around, nodding. “It’s better than being chained up, I guess. I’d rather have my freedom, but I’ll take it.”

  Ryker shakes his head, a little frustrated. “Sarah, do you know what’s going on out on the streets right now? It’s an underground war that’s starting. Nobody’s taking prisoners right now. If I let you go, at worst, he may very well find you and kill you. At best, you go back to him. But make no mistake, he will find you.”

  The way he says it makes me shiver, fear rippling down my spine. Ryker is right. Running away is a fool’s errand, but still, why should I feel so grateful for being given a goddamn cell instead of being locked up?

  “Well, can I at least take a shower now?” I ask, sniffing. A washcloth helps, but I still feel pretty ripe and grungy. That, more than anything else, is adding to my feeling of ungratefulness. One luxury Jacob did allow me was long, warm showers. It helped me deal with the stress. “You know, with soap and everything?”

  Ryker stops, then nods brusquely. “Fine. There’s a shower down here you can use.”

  He opens the door, leading me down the hallway to another room, which I find is a decently equipped home gym. “Yours?”

  “Mine,” Ryker agrees, leading me to a door on the far wall. “Here.”

  It’s a small locker room with a shower stall, enough for two or three people. Simple but effective. “I’ll make sure that you’re given another change of clothes and some toiletries,” he says as he sits down in the folding chair. “Go ahead.”

  I look around, surprised. “There’s no changing stall. There isn’t even a shower curtain.”

  “Never needed one,” Ryker says simply. “As for you, I’ve seen it all already.”

  I nod, for some reason nervous as I take off my clothes and get in the shower. The water’s nice and warm, and I try to remember that Ryker’s right. He’s seen me naked from the waist up before. But as the warm water runs over my body, I can feel his eyes on me, and I look back, shaken by the intense look on his face.

  “Don’t worry about me. Just wash yourself,” Ryker says, and I turn back, trying my best to do just that, to put the fact that he’s right behind me out of my mind. But then he stands up, and I’m startled, dropping the soap. I bend down to pick it up, dropping it again when I hear something hit the floor. I turn around and see he’s in the shower with me.

  He’s gorgeous. His body isn’t bulky but lean, his muscles long and flowing from joint to joint. If he weren’t a gangster, he could be a male model with a body like his. His hips are slim, but there’s still corded muscle below his washboard stomach, and when I look down, I gasp.

  His cock is long and thick, and I can’t stop my mind from thinking what he could do to me with it. I look up into his eyes, and he’s looking at me with such intensity that I know he’s thinking the same thing.

  “I’ve watched you for days,” Ryker says softly, taking me by the shoulders and turning me around. His fingers start to stroke my skin, and I feel laid bare, unable to resist the fact that he’s touching me more intimately than when he teased my breasts the other day. “You’re beautiful, Sarah.”

  “You don’t know what you�
��re talking about,” I whisper.

  “You’re a survivor,” Ryker says. “And the only scars you ever need to worry about are the ones on your soul.”

  I turn to him, more vulnerable than I’ve felt in years. “I’m scared, Ryker.”

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he says, and suddenly, we’re kissing, his hands roaming over my body as the warm water pelts my back. I’m kissing him back, our tongues and lips dueling as I feel myself wake up more. Five years, and this is what I’ve been missing. Heat, pure and wonderful. Desire, not fear, and it feels like warm honey dribbling down my throat and sweetening every taste in my mouth. Ryker’s lips trail down my neck as he bends his knees slightly, his hand coming to squeeze my ass, and he kisses over my shoulder before going back to my lips, drawing my breath into him and sharing everything with me.

  He pushes me back against the side wall of the stall. The tile’s a little cold, but that just makes it all seem real. This isn’t some just fantasy I’ve imagined after Jacob’s abusiveness. This is real, this man who’s holding me and kissing me is completely real. “Ryker . . . oh, my God, you’re really doing this.”

  “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to wonder if I’m in a fantasy?” he asks with a confident chuckle as he steps back, bringing his hand up to cup my left breast, kneading it and making my knees weak. “You’re the one who was my teenage fantasy. I even fantasized about you when I was your security guy.”

  “I wondered if that was you. With the creepy fan?” I ask, my head spinning as the steamy shower combines with the words he’s murmuring in my ear and the feeling of his hand on my breast.

  “That was me. I’ll admit, I spent a few weeks after that with daydreams of you running around in my mind. The way you looked at me,” Ryker says before his tongue finds my earlobe and I’m swept away in the feeling of his hands on my breasts and his tongue on my skin. Each sweep is electric, his fingers lightly pinching my nipples until they’re hard and aching even under the warm water, the warmth and wetness between my legs having nothing to do with the shower at all.

  I reach down blindly, tracing my fingernails over his hard stomach to find his cock, which is now fully hard and throbbing in my hand. Even just touching him feels like I’m being swept away, the veiny texture and the thick flare of his cockhead sending my body into tremors of anticipation. I’ve never, in my whole life, felt a cock like this before, and to be honest, it scares me a little. Ryker notices, and his lips pause before he pulls back. “Sarah?”

  “You realize how fucking hung you are?” I ask, stroking him lightly. “It’s a little intimidating, Ryker.”

  He ignores me, pinning me against the wall and lifting my leg, his eyes boring into mine. “Are you saying no?”

  “How could I say no to—” I start, but then all the words are ripped from my mind as his cock fills me. I feel him go slowly at first, and my pussy accepts him without protest, white hot pleasure rolling up my spine as he fills me in one long, slow stroke. I grip him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he goes deeper, deeper than anyone’s ever gone before, and it starts to hurt a little as I’m stretched, but I don’t care. It’s the good kind of hurt. I grab his head, kissing him when he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside my body.

  We go slow at first, Ryker’s cock sliding in and out of me at a sensual pace, our lips and hands stroking our bodies as he gives me time to adjust, or maybe he’s just taking in the luxury of being inside me. After a moment, he cups my cheek, looking me in the eyes. “So . . . fucking . . . perfect.”

  His tone is even better than the feeling of his cock rubbing against all the right places inside me, the head of his cock touching places I didn’t even know existed inside me and my clit grinding against him slowly. “You . . . thank you. Faster?”

  Ryker grunts lightly, pulling out and turning me around, pulling my arms behind my back and throwing my hair out of the way so that his lips can find my neck while he buries himself inside me again. His cock drives into me at a harder, more demanding angle that lights up my pussy in a whole different way. I didn’t know it could be this way as he pumps in and out of me, letting go of one arm to knead my breasts, his breath hot on my ear. “Is this what you want? Harder?”

  “Oh, fuck yes,” I moan, my eyes closing as Ryker lets go of my breast to hold onto my arms, pulling me back into him and letting me bend over. His cock hammers me, my pussy squeezing him, and my body is inundated with explosions of pleasure. I’m lost, the two of us moving together as his cock and his . . . just his everything pours into me, every slapping thrust of his hips against my ass tearing away the hurt inside me and opening me up raw.

  I’m sobbing, half in joy and half in fear as Ryker slams into me again and again, both of us groaning and making nonsensical sounds as I’m overloaded, leaping into a level of pleasure that I’ve never felt before. It keeps building bigger and deeper until it feels like with every stroke of his cock, Ryker is connecting directly with my brain. My body is just a conduit for the overwhelming sensation that suddenly breaks, and I’m coming, my pussy clamping on his cock as I raise my face to the shower spray and scream, the water the only thing keeping me from passing out as he swells and shoots deep inside me, blast after blast of his come that somehow makes it feel all the better, like for the first time in my life, I’m an actual woman and not something else.

  My knees give out but Ryker grabs me quickly, holding me in his arms as he cradles me, carrying me out of the shower and into the changing area, where he lowers us to the floor carefully, holding me like a child in his arms as I sob, overwhelmed by everything.

  “Shh . . . it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking my arm and holding me still. “I’ve got you, Sarah. You’re safe here. I promise you, I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Why?” I whisper in between sobs. “You barely know me. You . . . I hurt you, I hurt your brother, but—”

  “Because you are a good person, better than scum like me, and you never asked for any of this,” Ryker says gently. “Because you deserve better than what you’ve had, and you deserve better than this.”

  “And when Jacob pays?” I ask. “What then?”

  “I’m not sending you back to him,” Ryker promises me. “After Jacob Waters is dead, I’m giving you your freedom. I swear it.”

  His promise brings fresh sobs to the surface for some reason, although I don’t know why. Maybe it’s that I’m grateful for someone promising me my freedom, but there’s another part of me that doesn’t want to be free. It wants to stay right here in these powerful arms, regardless of what else happens.

  As the water dries and the warmth from the steam chills to just the warmth of his body, I realize something that’s scaring me. I’m starting to feel for Ryker Johns. It’s fucked up, I know it is, but there’s something about him. If only I’d had a chance to actually talk with him again on the set. If only I hadn’t met Jacob. How much different would my life have been?

  Chapter 11

  Ryker

  “We’ve got everything ready,” Marcus tells me while we ride through the streets. I don’t like leaving Sarah behind, but I’ve got three good men on security at the building, two in the lobby while one is right outside her door, and it can’t be helped.

  “Good,” I reply, picking up my phone as we hang a right. “Then let’s make the call. Are we near any of the restaurants?”

  “The Waters of Meribah,” Marcus says, pointing at the in-dash screen. “About a mile away.”

  “Cool, put us a half block beyond the thing so we can drive away easily,” I tell him, dialing Jacob. I’m on a burner phone this time. I don’t want this particular call tracked. If the cops are listening in by now, they’ll help me out.

  “Hello?” a woman’s slightly accented voice asks.

  “Jacob Waters, please. Tell him it’s Ryker Johns.”

  The hold is less this time than when I called his restaurant, and when he picks up, I can hear the anger and frustration in Waters’s voice. “What do you
want, you prick? You said a fucking week!”

  “Decided to up the timeline,” I reply, not worried when a little bit of anger creeps into my voice. This bastard deserves anger and more. “Some of your boys in blue and other crews have been giving mine a hard time.”

  “You son of a bitch! I swear I’m going to—” Jacob starts, his voice rising again, and I cut him off brutally.

  “What you’re going to do is call your restaurants and tell them to clear the fuck out. If they’re not out in exactly . . . six minutes from now, they’re going to be a big pile of dust,” I finish for him. “Hope you have them on speed dial.”

  I hang up, waiting for a second to see if he’ll waste time trying to call me back while at the same instant, Marcus speaks into his phone. “Dial now.”

  He hangs up, looking over at me. “Okay, they’re getting the warning calls now.”

  I watch as people start to stream out of the restaurant, mostly workers, but there are a few late patrons as well. I don’t want innocents hurt, and that includes workers who most likely are just schlepping food in a restaurant to make ends meet. I may be making a mistake trusting that this psycho will tell them, but I hope not.

  “Thirty seconds,” Marcus says softly, and I’m grateful as the crowd slows to a trickle then stops, a few standing around across the street, wondering. Idiots, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. I lift the cover on the trigger. I might have told Jacob it was on a timer, but I wanted to do this myself. Just in case, to ensure no innocent casualties. “Three . . . two . . .”

  I trigger the bomb a second early, a Claymore mine that one of my crew planted near the natural gas lines that feed the water heater and the cooking ranges. The explosion ignites the spewing gas, turning the whole back of the restaurant into a gigantic fireball that builds before the roof tears off, the doors following a second later to fly across the street. I squint at the glare and pat Marcus on the shoulder. He drives off without a word, turning left and bringing us back toward the freeway. We’re on the onramp when my phone rings and I see that it’s Jacob Waters.