Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  Knowing how hard, and exactly how fast, like he’s reading my mind as he makes me melt for him.

  His lips wrap around my clit, and I go into orbit, my head tossing back, hair coming loose from the bun on top of my head. I turn, my cheek against the mirror, my hands clawing at it as the edge comes rushing up to meet me faster and faster.

  His tongue swirls across my clit, and I’m shattering for him.

  I cry out, stuffing my fingers into my mouth as my body seizes up and explodes, the orgasm crashing through me.

  He’s chuckling as he stands, but then I’m yanking him to me, hungry and desperate for more.

  I kiss him fiercely, tasting myself as I reach for his belt.

  I want this.

  I’ve wanted this for six fucking years, even when I told myself I didn’t. I wanted this when I tried and failed at finding anyone else to even come close to the man that shattered me, and after six years of chasing the ghost, I want this.

  I want the way he claims me, the way he fucks me like I’m his.

  He groans into my mouth, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of my neck and tugging hard. My hand slips into his boxers, sliding down until my fingers brush the thickness of his cock.

  And that’s when the knock comes at the bathroom door.

  I whirl, jerking my hands away from him as my jaw drops.

  “Anyone in there?”

  Liam turns to me, his face hard.

  “Fuck,” I mouth. “Now what?!”

  “Say something,” he hisses, half grinning, his hand still tangled in my hair.

  I clear my throat. “Uh, one second!”

  I turn back to him, my face pale. “We can’t both walk out of here.”

  “We could say you were feeling sick?”

  I give him a look.

  “Yeah, never mind.”

  He turns, and I follow his frowning gaze to the tiny bathroom window before I shake my head. “No way, we’re three floors up.”

  I slide off the counter, fixing my hair and smoothing my skirt down as my heart pounds like a drum in my chest.

  Liam’s jaw tightens. “Okay, you leave.”

  “What?”

  “You go out, I’ll…” he glances around the room before his eyes stop. “Here.” He opens the bathroom closet door and grimaces. “Fuck it. Hope they don’t need a spare towel.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Got another option?”

  Our eyes lock, and for a second, the franticness of the situation evaporates as we grin at each other. Yeah, this is just like before, when we spent most of our time sneaking around trying not to get caught.

  There’s pounding on the door again, breaking the moment.

  “Go!” he hisses, nodding with his chin. “Get back out there.”

  “Wait! I need my—”

  I reach down, but Liam’s faster, snatching up my panties in his fist.

  I glare at him as I stick my hand out, but he just grins.

  “Liam!”

  The knocking comes again. “It’s a bit of an emergency!” A voice calls through.

  Liam winks. “Better answer the door, princess.” I watch, my jaw dropping, as he slips my panties into his back pocket.

  “You’re insane.”

  “I know.”

  I gasp as he grabs, pulls me against him, and kisses me hard. He squeezes into the small closet and shuts the door.

  I let my breath out in a whoosh, turning to fix my hair as the knocking comes for the hundredth damn time.

  “One second please!”

  I flush the toilet, catching my breath again and smoothing my skirt.

  I glance in the mirror, and when my eyes focus, I cringe.

  There are hand prints, and the smudge from my face and my breath on the glass.

  Jesus.

  I grab a hand towel and do the world’s fastest wipe job, trying to get the hand marks that could only have come from one thing off the glass before I turn and finally open the door.

  “Oh Lordy, thank you! One downstairs had a line!” A portly man I don’t really recognize bustles past me clutching his stomach and shuts the door to the bathroom.

  With Liam hiding in the closet.

  “Oh, there she is!”

  A gaggle of church ladies helmed by Mrs. Dalton spots me from the bottom of the staircase and beckons me.

  “Come on down, sweetie!” She waves eagerly. “The girls want to hear how you and Tommy met!”

  I take a deep breath, swallowing the sin from my face and feeling my body shiver as I slowly make my way down.

  Heart pounding.

  Guilt all over my face.

  My panties still in Liam Roarke’s pocket.

  Chapter 16

  Liam

  Six Years Ago

  “Tell her to leave.”

  I’m shaking my head, the rage flashing to the surface as I clench my fists.

  “No way.”

  “Liam.” He holds my gaze. “You know she has to leave. You know what happen if she stays.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Liam, know that I’m a patient man, and a forgiving one.” His eyes narrow at me. “But I’m not a blind man.”

  I tense my jaw.

  “I know what’s going on with you and my daughter, Liam.”

  “Sir—”

  “Save it,” he growls. “I’ve known for a while, so save your bullshit. You were never a great liar anyways.”

  My heart sinks, my blood running cold.

  “Hey, you’re not at the bottom of the Charles river, kid. But…” He shakes his head. “But you went behind my back, and I know you know you went against what my wishes would have been.”

  “She can make her own decisions.”

  His eyes flash.

  I’m playing with fucking fire here, but I don’t care. Not after Sheila, and not after Gray getting arrested.

  “Don’t test me, Liam. I can see it in your eyes that you want to, but don’t. It’s why you’ll do well at this game, and it’s why the Saints need you. You’ve got that fire inside.”

  He levels a finger at me.

  “Don’t let it get you into trouble, though.” His eyes narrow. “I’m telling you right now, it’s over. You and Aela, I mean.”

  “The fuck it—”

  He snarls as he slams me against the wall, his hand on my throat, hellfire in his eyes.

  “Do not test me.”

  He doesn’t have to say the rest, because I see it right there in his face.

  Where he found me.

  Where he put me in life.

  What he’s done for me.

  And here I was, screwing his daughter behind his back. He’s got every right to tell me to get fucked, or hell, to shoot me. And we both know it.

  But somehow, he’s not killing me.

  “Do me this one thing,” he growls. “Promise me.”

  I shake my head, my eyes still fiercely defiant. I can’t. I won’t.

  “Get her out of here, Liam. The Feds, the Albanians, Sheila—”

  His voice cracks.

  “You know what happens if she stays. It’s over, kid,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, but it’s over. For her sake.” He looks me right in the eye. “She won’t listen to me, but she’ll listen to you. Think of her, not yourself.”

  He drops his hand from my neck and turns, running it through his hair before he glances back at me, his face full of hardness and pain.

  “Think of her, and get her the fuck out of Southie.”

  Present Day

  I groan and stretch my muscles as I finally step out of Mick’s upstairs bathroom.

  I’ve been in there for fifteen fucking minutes while Rob McElroy — a regular at The Burren — took his damn time in the bathroom.

  Fuck, no one should have to endure that.

  I’m growling as I step back into the party, eyes hungry and searching for Aela.

  “There you are.”

  Damian claps me on
the shoulder, breaking my concentration and my hunt for Aela as I turn.

  Damian Gallagher — my unofficial third brother. After Aela’s dad yanked the three of us out of the foster system and we got taken in by the Gallaghers, Damian and his sister Nora basically became siblings to me and my two brothers.

  I owe that family a debt I’ll never be able to repay, not that they’d ever take a single cent anyways.

  Aside from my two blood brothers, Damian’s my best friend — we’re the same age and rose up through the ranks of the Saints together.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  He frowns. “Dude, where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking all over the house for you.”

  I shrug. “I’ve been around. I had to step out for—”

  “Mick’s looking for you.”

  My stomach tightens as my jaw clenches. “What?”

  Damian gives me a funny look. “Mick, he’s looking for you. C’mon.”

  “For what?”

  My pulse starts to beat, low and steady, and I’m mentally calculating how fast I can find Aela and get to my car, and how far we can get before he—

  “Dude, lieutenants meeting. Let’s go.”

  I blink away the fantasy of roaring out of the city in my car with half the Irish mob chasing me. “Huh?”

  “Yeah, Mick wants to talk to all of us, right now.”

  All of us.

  Looks like I’m living another day.

  “So, sláinte! Drink up, lads!”

  I roll my eyes as I sip the mediocre scotch Mick’s just poured us all.

  This isn’t a meeting at all. Well, not in the sense of us getting informed on something important or dealing with something that needs dealing with. It’s just Mick making a big fucking show of how proud he is of Tommy for marrying Aela.

  All for Eamon, of course.

  Everyone cheers loudly, smoking cigarettes and busting out cigars in Mick’s lavish office.

  I slug back my cheap scotch quickly, grimacing. Jack Reilly would have sprung for the good stuff if Aela was getting married.

  I frown at the thought, picturing that scenario. Would that have ever happened if she stayed? If he was still alive? Getting married and all that? We very well could still be here in that alternate reality, standing in this room, toasting her marriage.

  It wouldn’t have been to me, no matter how alternate the reality. Even if in the end, it wasn’t a secret at all. Even if in the end, Jack knew about us anyways.

  Yeah, he knew alright.

  Damian refills my glass as we stay to one side of the room. The meeting’s spilled back out into the main party, and I finally spot Aela, talking with some church ladies or something.

  “She know what you are?”

  I turn to Damian. “What?”

  “What you are, to the Saints, I mean.”

  “Of course she does.”

  “No, not the you from six years ago, Liam. The you now.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You know what I mean. I mean that we all grew up, and things got more serious. I mean that we don’t do the small shit we did before.”

  His eyes go hard. I know what he means.

  We’re not the kids who stole the odd car or did errand jobs for Jack. We’ve both seen blood now. We’ve both killed in the line of duty to the Saints.

  “She understands.”

  She might, at least.

  I mull that over as I sip another glass of bad scotch and watch her spill her practiced lines to the church ladies. And part of me wonders if she actually would understand the man I’ve become, after being away from this place for so long.

  Part of me wonders if I do.

  Chapter 17

  Aela

  “Holy fuck! That was fun, right?”

  The car comes to a stop outside my father’s house.

  Mercifully.

  I’ve spent the last ten minutes clutching the door handle with white knuckles while Tommy drove, beer in hand, like a maniac back here. Wasted and slurring-his-words, Tommy sent Liam away towards the end of the party, demanding that he “drive his own fiancée back home.”

  Tommy who’s been guzzling whiskey all night, who then staggered out to the car.

  Tommy who told me to fuck off when I offered to drive.

  Tommy who I can’t even look at, because despite how fake this is and how absurd this sham of a marriage is, all I can think about is Liam. Liam pushing me onto the vanity in that bathroom, pushing my skirt up and sliding his tongue over my clit.

  Liam making me feel so dirty and so damn sexy at the same time.

  “Uh, yeah, that… that was fun.” I smile thinly at Tommy as I open the door. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

  I step out. A door clicks shut behind me.

  “I’ll walk you in.”

  “I’m home, Tommy, it’s fine.” I raise a brow at him. “Look why don’t you walk from here okay?”

  He laughs. “Irish born and bred baby, I can handle my booze.” He stumbles on the curb as he says it, which would be funny if I hadn’t just had the white-knuckle drive home from hell.

  “Tommy—”

  “I’m walking you in.”

  There’s something glinting in his eyes, and I don’t push it.

  “Sure, fine.”

  I turn and walk to the front step without waiting for him, hearing him stumble after me as I open the front door.

  “You got anything to drink?”

  Sigh. “Look—”

  “You gonna be this much of a drag when we get hitched, baby?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re drunk. Go home, Tommy.”

  He pushes past me for the kitchen. “Shit, your old man musta kept some good shit around.”

  I glare at him as he grabs the bottle from the table — the same bottle Liam and I were drinking from the other night. The same table where I jumped into his lap like a crazy person and kissed him.

  Where he made me come.

  I shake my head. “Tommy—”

  But he’s already pouring a huge glass, a sloppy grin on his face. “C’mon, have a drink with me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Have a drink, shit.” He lurches towards me, roughly pushing his drink into my hands with that glassy-eyed stare. “Let’s put some music on, huh?”

  He shuffles to the radio on the kitchen counter and turns on something loud and thumping.

  “C’mon Aela.”

  He starts to dance. Well, or something that at least sort of looks like dancing. But then he moves closer.

  “Tommy, leave me alone.”

  “God damn, Aela! Just dance with me, you frigid bitch.”

  I swallow thickly as he pulls me right against him, trying to dance with me as his hand starts to move lower down my back.

  “Ooookay, Tommy,” I laugh uncomfortably, slipping out his grasp and pushing his hands back. “That’s enough of that.”

  I’m trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not working.

  He grins. “Shit, girl. I mean, when we get married, you know you’re gonna be mine, right?”

  I hate the way he says it — the way he breathes it at me, and I clench as he yanks me against him again. His hand starts to wander back down to my ass again as I try and shrug him off.

  “That’s enough, Tom—”

  “The fuck is going on in here?”

  I whirl at Liam’s voice from the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Heeeey! Liam! Get in here, dude!” Tommy slurs. “C’mon man. Have a drink.”

  Liam’s jaw clenches as his eyes dart to where Tommy’s got his hand on my waist. “I’m fine,” he growls.

  “Pussy.”

  I watch as Liam’s eyes flash, visibly swallowing back the words I’m sure he’d like to use.

  “Let’s maybe slow it down a little, huh, Tommy?”

  “No way man, we’re dancin’!”

  Tommy grabs me again, and my eyes dart to Liam, watching as his eyes flash fire. I try and s
hrug away from Tommy again, but his grip tightens.

  “Dammit, Tommy!” I yank back from him, trying to pull my wrist from his grasp. “I’m warning you!”

  “And I’m warning you,” he suddenly hisses. “You’re fuckin’ mine, and I’m—”

  Tommy suddenly goes sprawling back, his glass of whiskey shattering to the floor as he slumps against the wall.

  My jaw drops.

  “Asshole,” Liam mutters, kicking broken glass away from my feet.

  I stare at him. “Are you insane?”

  His jaw tightens. “Maybe. Let’s see.”

  On the ground, Tommy moans back into consciousness, groaning as he rolls over and paws at the wall. “The fuck was that!”

  “Shit man,” Liam crouches down next to him, shaking his head. “Looks like you fell!”

  Tommy blinks his eyes open, his brow looking furrowed and confused. “Fuck, I did?”

  Liam’s face is still grim as he reaches down and violently yanks Tommy to his feet. “Yeah, you fell, buddy.” He pushes Tommy back hard against the wall, making him grunt.

  Tommy looks positively wasted, squinting to make Liam out. “Shit, I fell, bro?”

  “Sure did, bro,” Liam says sarcastically.

  Tommy blinks and turns to try and focus on me. “We were dancing.”

  “Yeah,” I say flatly. “Yeah, Tommy, we were dancing.”

  “Fuck yeah,” he mumbles out before he snorts a laugh. “Fuck, I fell.” He giggles. “Shit, man. Party foul, right?”

  “I think it’s time to go home.”

  “Yeah,” Tommy nods. “Yeah, maybe, man.”

  Liam starts to yank him towards the front door when Tommy paws at his hands. “Wait, wait, wait.” He turns to flash this drunk, sloppy grin at me. “How’s about a nightcap, baby? One more for the road.” He hiccups.

  I roll my eyes. “No more for the road.”

  “Let’s go, bud.” Liam starts to haul him towards the front door.

  “Shit, I was gonna get lucky,” Tommy mumbles.

  “Oh, were you?” Liam growls.

  “Yeah, bro.” Tommy leans close, as if he’s telling Liam a secret even though he’s still talking at a perfectly normal volume. “Dude, Aela got hot, right?”