Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  Liam turns to glance at me, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, she did.”

  I roll my eyes, grinning.

  “Like, shit, right? You’d hit that, right buddy?”

  “Whatever you say, Tommy.”

  “Man, I’d hit that.”

  “Here’s the door.”

  I frown as Liam opens the door and half-shoves my drunk fake-fiancé outside. “Tommy, are you okay to get home?”

  He snorts a laugh, leaning heavily on the doorframe as he hiccups twice. Tommy doesn’t look like he can make it down the front steps, let alone drive.

  He gives a thumbs up before he turns and somehow makes it off the porch without breaking his neck. He stumbles down the front walk, falling about three times on the way to his BMW.

  “He could crash on the way home, you know.”

  “God willing.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, I mean, there are other people on the road besides him.”

  “I know.”

  Liam holds a hand up, jangling a set of keys with the BMW logo on the fob.

  “But he’d need these to go kill himself in a car crash, unfortunately.”

  I shake my head, grinning as we turn and watch from the porch as Tommy stumbles into his car and shuts the door. He looks around inside, and we see the glow of a cellphone for a minute, before it goes dim. Tommy’s head lolls against the side of the car, and I snort a laugh as I start to see the rhythmic puffs of his breath against the driver’s side window.

  “Like a fuckin’ baby,” Liam mutters. He turns to me. “Were you really not interested in a night cap, or just not with that shithead?”

  “I could go for a drink.”

  “Atta girl.”

  The door to the house closes, and we’re alone.

  “So, married life with that guy, huh?”

  In the kitchen again, he passes me a glass of whiskey.

  I roll my eyes. “Well, it’s better than…” I trail off.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Aela.”

  “It’s better than the alternative.”

  “The fuck did you get into out there? Just tell me that.”

  I chew my lip for a second, tasting the whiskey there, before I finally sigh. “Cards.”

  Liam grins. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “What, like the magic tricks your dad used to do?”

  “More like the poker tricks my dad used to do.”

  “And you got in deep.”

  I frown into my drink, and he looks at me curiously. “So, who do you owe?”

  “Forget it, it’s being taken care of.”

  He eyes me. “You know you can tell me.”

  I look down at my drink.

  Liam clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, marriage.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah, can’t fucking wait.”

  “You ever think we’d get there?”

  I snort. “No.”

  It’s a lie.

  Liam gives me this dramatic look as he clutches his heart. “You wound me.”

  “Please, no I don’t. C’mon we were kids back then and we knew it was temporary.”

  The smile fades from his face. “Whatever you say.”

  “Oh, what, you actually thought about marrying me?” I laugh to cover the nervousness in my voice.

  “Maybe, for a second.” He shrugs. “Just a second though.”

  I freeze, and he looks up at me.

  “C’mon, of course I did, Aela. And of course you know that, just like I know you thought about it too.”

  “No I did—”

  “If you’re this bad at lying at a card table, I can see why you got into trouble, by the way.”

  “That was a low blow.”

  He grins. “I know.”

  His hand drops to the table, and without a hesitation, it moves to cover mine.

  I swallow.

  “Liam.”

  “What?”

  “What are we doing?”

  “Remembering,” he murmurs. “Before we can’t remember at all anymore.”

  “I am an engaged woman,” I say primly, hiding my smile in a drink.

  “And I don’t fucking care.”

  His eyes flash.

  His jaw tightens.

  My pulse quickens.

  “So, let’s remember,” I say quietly.

  Liam’s eyes flash that fire again. “We’re playing a dangerous game here, you know that.”

  “You chicken?”

  He growls, and I gasp as he grabs me, the glass shattering to the ground as he yanks me against him and kisses me with everything I’ve always wanted in a kiss.

  Chapter 18

  Liam

  Her mouth tastes like whiskey and sin, her moans like sweet honey in my ears. Her body stirs and twists against me like a tall drink I can’t wait to swallow — a forbidden liquor I’m going to drown myself in.

  Whatever’s left on the kitchen table goes scattering away and smashing to the floor with a clean sweep of my arm. Aela kisses me back hungrily, her arms tight around my neck as my hands slide down the small of her back to cup that sweet candy-apple ass. I pick her up and plant her on the table, her legs going around my waist as I growl into her mouth.

  She gasps as I break the kiss, my lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone. Hands find the front of that straight-laced cardigan of hers, pulling roughly at the buttons and shoving it off her shoulders.

  Her hands slip over my chest, fingers trailing and teasing over every inch of muscle before quickly working at the buttons. I do the same, nipping and biting at the tender hollow of her neck and making her moan out loud as I pull that conservative blouse open. Hands find her breasts, growling into her skin as my fingers roll those metal piercings through her bra.

  She’s pushing my shirt down over my biceps, fingers slipping over my skin as she’s pulls me tight against her. Her hands slide up my neck into my hair, pulling me from her neck and hungrily kissing my lips.

  I tear at the rest of that blouse, tossing it across the kitchen as she shrugs her bra off and lets it drop to the floor. We crash back together, her nipples dragging over my chest, her hands pulling me into her, and her legs wrapped tight around my waist. My hands trail down her smooth back, down to her ass, which I squeeze hard as my cock throbs and pulses in my pants.

  Like it remembers that it belongs inside of her, even after six years without her.

  My hands drop to her thighs, pushing high and bunching that skirt around her hips. She whimpers as my hand slides between us, and that’s when I grin, realizing she’s still not wearing any damn panties from when I took them earlier.

  And damn if she isn’t dripping wet for me.

  My fingers tease her lips, spreading her open for me and easing a finger against her opening. She groans, fingers tightening in my hair, her teeth biting at my lip as I slide two fingers deep inside of her.

  Her hands drop to my belt, tearing at it and shoving my pants and my boxers down over my hips. Her hands slide over my abs, around to the back to grab my ass as if trying to pull me closer to her than I already am. Her hand trails back around to slide between us, and I growl as her delicate fingers curl around my thick cock.

  “I want this,” she hisses, moaning as my thumb brushes her clit.

  “You better be more specific than that.”

  She whimpers as my fingers curl deep inside her pussy, my other hand sliding up her ribcage to cup her breast and pinch one of her nipples.

  “Fuck, Liam,” she moans, panting against me.

  “I don’t hear you,” I growl.

  She moans this deep, sexy-as-fuck moan as she trembles, and I grin.

  Because I know what Aela Reilly wants.

  I remember. Hell, I’ve never forgotten what this girl always wanted from me.

  Sure, we made love — and damn did we do that well. But there was always something darker between us. There were the times we too
k it slow, and built it into a rolling crescendo, but then there were the times in between.

  …The times we fucked like savages.

  The times she’d beg me for it harder than I could have ever imagined. The times when I’d spin her around and spank that tight ass of hers until she could practically come from it. The times I’d pin her arms above her head, somehow getting even harder at that look of pure orgasmic lust on her face when I dominated her and demanded the climax from her body.

  Because sweet little Aela Reilly loved it rough back then. And even though I’ve only had a taste so far, something tells me darker, fiercer, more grown-up Aela only wants it even harder than before.

  “Tell me,” I growl into her ear, fingers pushing deep inside as my hand twists her nipple. She gasps, crying out and pumping my cock quickly with her fingers as she writhes against me.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she whimpers.

  “How,” I hiss.

  “You know how.”

  “Maybe I need reminding.”

  She moans as my thumb rolls over her clit.

  “Please,” she gasps, leaning forward to kiss me eagerly. Our tongues slide together as I try to restrain myself from just taking her right there. Because I need her to say it.

  And then suddenly, it’s like she knows.

  She pulls away, her teeth catching my bottom lip for a second before her eyes burn fiercely into mine.

  “Fuck me like you used to,” she husks, her big brown eyes burning hot and her red hair wild around her face. “Fuck me like I’m yours.”

  I’ve dreamt of hearing those words from these lips for six fucking years, and I don’t need another second to deliberate. I pull my hand from between her legs, replace her fingers with my own around my cock, and ease the throbbing head against her slick pussy.

  Her breath catches, my pulse throbs.

  And then I slide every. Fucking. Inch. Inside of her.

  Aela cries out, her nails raking down my back as her hips arch to meet mine — her inner walls squeeze me tight like a vice. I choke out a groan, every fiber of my being on fire and alive at being back like this with her. Every piece of me roars at the feeling of being sheathed to the hilt inside of her.

  Fuck taking our time, and fuck using a condom.

  Because after six years, there’s nothing that’s going to come between me and feeling every sweet caress of her around my cock.

  I pull out until just my head is inside before rocking deep back inside. She moans wildly, fingers digging into my skin, her legs wrapping tight around my waist. I start to fuck her like that, one hand grasping her hip with an iron grip, the other sliding up her back to tangle in her hair at the base of her neck.

  I pull on it hard, making her gasp and making her pussy milk me as she moans in pleasure. I dip my head to her exposed neck and suck at the tender skin there hard, feeling her arch her back to press herself against my body.

  My cock drives in and out of her, and my mind goes into a blur as six goddamn years of missing this comes rushing up all at once.

  I drop my mouth to her breasts, leaving marks across the gentle slope there until I find one of her little barbells. I pull it between my lips, teasing her nipple with my tongue as she screams my name and chokes out a moan.

  The table rocks on the floor with our thrusting, and then I’m pushing her back further on the table as I damn well climb up there with her. She gasps as she finds herself on her back, legs spread for me, my cock filling her deep with every stroke. I grab her wrists and push them above her head, holding them there with one hand as I let the other trail down her body.

  And then I grab her ass tight and fuck her just like I know we both need it.

  She’s screaming, and moaning like a woman possessed, and I can feel every nerve ending in my body threatening to explode. Her sweet pussy tightens around me, her legs wrapping around my hips and urging me faster and pulling me deeper. Our eyes lock, the heat and the raw passion firing between us like sparks as I watch her face start to crumble.

  “Oh, God, Liam—” she gasps, her brow crinkling as her mouth hangs open with her breath. “I’m— fuck, I’m going to—”

  “Come for me,” I growl, kissing her hard and swallowing that moan. “I want to feel this sweet little pussy come for me.”

  I drive in deep as my own climax starts to rumble through me, dipping my head back to her breasts and sucking a nipple between my lips. I drive in again and again and again, drowning in her moans until suddenly, she shatters beneath me.

  Aela cries out, her back arching off the damn table, wrists straining against my firm hand, and her mouth making this “O” shape before she just comes undone beneath me.

  I watch the orgasm tear through her, and that look on her face and those moans from her lips are the last thing I can take. I groan into her skin as I slide in deep and just let go.

  Less than five minutes later, I’ve got her ass in my hands, her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist as I carry her up to her room.

  Because after six years without this girl?

  You can be damn sure I’m not done with her yet.

  Chapter 19

  Aela

  I wake up with a start.

  Skin. Heat. Warmth.

  Liam’s wrapped around me like a blanket, his arm around my waist, his fingers splayed on my torso as he hugs my body to his. He’s asleep, and I can feel his chest rising and falling against my back, his breath warm and teasing against my neck.

  Shit.

  My mind replays the night’s events as my body remembers them moment by moment.

  The feelings, the whirlwind of emotions.

  The way he moved my body. The way he made me scream, made me come, and made me forget everything else.

  And really, that was always the appeal of Liam Roarke — an escape from all of this. He and I crashed together like two life rafts in a stormy sea back then, clinging to each other while the world burned around us.

  And towards the end there, it was all on fire.

  His brother going to jail, the Feds going through our garbage, the Albanians moving in on the neighborhood.

  Sheila.

  Liam was the band-aid back then — the glue that kept me from shattering. The only thing that held me together, really.

  But then he shoved me away, when I needed him to be strong the most. When I needed him to be the rock that held fast against the tide, he’s the one that made me go.

  He’s the one that told me to leave, and not look back.

  “Tell me you’ll follow.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Please.”

  “Switzerland, Aela. We’re not talking Cape fucking Cod here.”

  It shouldn’t matter.

  I could be telling him I’m going to Mars and he should be asking when we leave.

  “Okay, fine then. I’ll come back for visits on weekends, and then we can still be—”

  “No, Aela,” he says quietly. He’s not looking at me as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket.

  I frown.

  “Since when do you smoke?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “I guess so.”

  He lights it, eyes looking away from me, his face grim as he drags on the smoke and then exhales slowly.

  “Don’t come back here.”

  “What?”

  “Just, go to Switzerland. Go do your own thing.”

  I shake my head at him, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

  “I thought you’d fight for this.”

  “Like I said—”

  “Yeah, got it. Guess there’s a LOT I don’t know about you.”

  “Guess so.”

  He’s still not looking at me. Still cold, still uncaring.

  Which is good, because at that point, my heart’s breaking.

  The memory leaves a cold emptiness inside of me — one that not even his warm breath, his rhythmic breathing, or his
protective arms will fix or chase away.

  And with a sad feeling, I realize we’re right back there.

  I’m right back to being scared of the unknown, and going right back to looking to him to ground me.

  You idiot.

  I’ve done this before, and I’ve learned this lesson. I’ve spent six years teaching myself not to be scared of anything, least of all the unknown. Take it as it comes, take it as it’s dealt, and do the best you can.

  No regrets.

  Always moving forward.

  I also learned six years ago that Liam Roarke is no rock. I learned that the hardest way I could.

  And yet here I am.

  God what am I doing?

  I sit up in the bed, moving his arm away from me as I slip from the sheets. I grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling them on and covering the evidence of our indiscretions from the night before.

  Rehashing old blood with Liam Roarke is not why I’m here. I’m back in Southie for one thing: settling the debts that need to be paid. I’ll do what Mick wants me to do. I’ll stomach it, because I have to. And then I’ll cross the next bridge when I come to it.

  I always do, and I always have, ever since I left this place.

  Always running.

  And right now, I just have to keep moving.

  Chapter 20

  Aela

  “You ready for the worst bachelorette party in the world?”

  I snort, grinning at Nora as we step into Rose’s. She’s right, this is going to be awful.

  Rose’s is a dump — a club of a bygone time. This place was tired and dirty and dated six years ago, when we’d come here with fake IDs or just a flirty smile at the bouncer to get let in. It’s like the club from Scarface — this total mob spot from the 70’s, complete with vinyl bar seats, grungy, sticky walls, and velvet booths that you learn early to never actually sit on.

  Nora and I used to come here with Sheila when we were far too young, to sip sugared cocktails and bad wine and pretend we were glamorous. We’d pretend the raspberry wine coolers were champagne, and that the greasy scumbags who came to this place were actually handsome movie stars.