Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  “That’s why you told me to go,” I whisper, feeling something raw and aching welling up inside of me.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You wouldn’t have gone. You would have fought and stayed.” He smiles, shaking his head. “C’mon, we both know you’ve always been a stubborn ass.”

  “Says the career criminal.”

  He grins. “Says the salty Southie chick.”

  “Thug.”

  “Princess.”

  “Pawn.”

  “You as bad at cards as you are at trash-talking?”

  “Oh, fuck you.”

  We crash together like a storm hitting the rocks — kissing, gasping, pulling each other tight like we might shatter apart if we don’t. We’re ripping clothes away right there at the bottom of the stairs, moaning as skin touches skin, hands find curves and muscles and lips.

  Liam growls, his hands slipping down my bare back to my ass and pulling me up into his arms. He turns to take me up the stairs, but we only make it halfway before we just melt to the ground.

  I gasp as he flips me over, pushing me onto my knees with my elbows up a few steps. I shiver as he runs his hands down my back, over my ass, his fingers digging into the exposed skin there like it belongs to him. I gasp as I feel his breath on the small of my back as he drops to his knees behind me.

  “God damn,” he growls, his lips trailing down over the curve of my ass. “You know, I lied before.”

  “What— oh,” I gasp as his tongue trails down the back of my thigh. “What now?”

  “This ass isn’t sullen or sorry at all.”

  I grin, sucking at my bottom lip and raking my teeth across it. “Well I hope not.”

  “Yeah, no,” he growls into my skin, lips teasing over me and making me gasp.

  “It’s fucking perfect.”

  His mouth moves between my thighs, and this time I moan as his tongue finds me wet and dripping for him. Hands grab my ass, spreading me for him as his tongue pushes deep. My toes curl, my breath comes ragged, my eyes squeeze shut as the electric pleasure shivers through me.

  He curls his tongue around my clit, hands pulling me back against him as he drives me higher and higher. My fingers scratch at the hardwood stairs, my back arches, his name stumbles on my lips as he pushes me closer and closer to that sweet edge.

  His moans vibrate through me, and the world blurs around me.

  I cry out as the orgasm comes hurtling through me, shattering me, and making me melt right there on the stairs.

  He moves up, lips trailing up my back before he flips my panting body over so that I’m sitting on the steps. He’s between my legs, his mouth dropping to my nipple and making me gasp as he licks at the metal piercing there, sending a shiver through me.

  I can feel him pulsing rock hard and ready between my legs, his cock dragging heavy against my thigh. I reach down, circling him with my fingers and stroking him, loving the way he growls into my breast.

  “I want this,” I whisper, pulling him against my slick lips.

  “Trust me when I say you’re going to get all of it,” he growls. His hands slide into my red locks, twisting in the hair at the base of my neck as he nudges the head against my opening. He rocks his hips forward, and I cry out as he sheathes himself to the hilt. My eyes go wide, my breath catches in my throat, the moan drips from my lips as I feel him fill me entirely.

  Fuck yes.

  He pulls back, letting me feel the emptiness without him, before he grins and slides back deep inside.

  There’s no “slow build” here — no gradually moving faster and faster. We just go hard — raw, hot, panting, body-shaking, heart-pounding, world-shattering fucking.

  God yes.

  It’s rough, and raw, and everything I’ve missed. This unbridled roughness is the dark side of me only he’s ever brought out. The dark side he makes me crave.

  Liam pulls out, turning me over before I even have to ask him too. I shiver, getting on my knees again as I feel his hands circle my waist.

  “Spank me,” I whisper darkly.

  But he knows.

  I glance back and see the line in his eyes that says he definitely remembers this.

  He remembers how to make me writhe for him. How to make me submit so beautifully.

  How to make my body melt in ways only he’s ever managed to make it melt.

  I cry out as his palm connects with the soft skin of my ass, but the searing heat is soothed by his cock filling me to the hilt immediately after. I groan, fingers digging at the hardwood beneath as Liam Roarke fucks me like he knows I need it. His open hand comes down again on my ass, spanking me and he drives in deep again and again.

  My head spins, my whole body burns, and the world melts around me.

  His fingers find my hair again, pulling just tight enough to make me gasp as he fills me deeply, his hand stinging my ass with every firm spank.

  It’s rough.

  It’s animalistic.

  It’s exquisitely perfectly raw.

  And when I feel myself start to lose control, I don’t fight it.

  Never with him.

  I scream as the climax erupts deep inside of me. I cry out, clawing at the stairs, my body shattering into a million pieces as the world goes dark around me. I’m aware of Liam roaring out my name, his hands gripping me tight as his cock drives deep inside of me and pulses hard as he comes.

  I have zero concept of how much times passes as we stay just like that on the stairs — bodies still connected, and slick with sweat.

  We pant in the silence, chests heaving for breath, before I turn and glance over my shoulder at him.

  “Oh, was that it?”

  I say it with a grin on my face, knowing we both know I’m teasing.

  Liam laughs quietly behind me, his fingers tracing lazy circles up my back before suddenly finding my hair again. I gasp as he pulls me upright, tight against him, his lips right at my ear.

  “Princess,” he growls in that way that has my body craving him all over again. “I’m just getting started.”

  Chapter 22

  Liam

  And sort of just like that, we’re back.

  Like a wave that’s gonna break on the coast no matter what you try to do to stop it, or however nicely or strongly you tell it not to, me and Aela crashing back together is an inevitability.

  And I think I always knew that, no matter how deep I fucking buried it.

  We spend the whole next day in bed, and that night too. Actually, except for when life intrudes — when Damian stops by to confer with me on some organization shit, when Mick calls me to do a run for something — it’s just the two of us, shut away from the rest of it.

  And it’s like we’re making up for lost time. It’s like we’re remembering the places we used to know inside each other.

  And fuck, does remembering feel good.

  Just like that, we forget about the rest of the world. Except the rest of the world doesn’t necessarily want to forget about us.

  It never does.

  “Afternoon, Ms. Reilly.”

  I’m in the kitchen, but I know who’s at the door. I’ve known since he called Aela an hour before to let her know he was stopping by.

  Eamon O’Brian follows her into the kitchen, taking off his cap and nodding at me.

  “Evening, boy-o.”

  “Eamon.” I nod back. “Get you a drink?”

  He shakes his head. “Some tea.”

  “I think we might just have coffee.”

  He nods. “Coffee it is, then.”

  Aela shrugs. “Sorry, Dad used to keep tea in the house, I just—”

  “Coffee is just fine, Aelish.” Eamon smiles at her as he takes a seat.

  I scoop some grounds into the coffee maker before I turn to them. “I can leave you two to talk—”

  Eamon shrugs. “Naw, you can stay, Roarke.”

  I shoot a quick glance at Aela and shrug. “Sure.”

 
; The coffee brews, and the three of us talk about Dublin, about Southie, about the Red Sox.

  But it’s small talk, and I know it.

  I know it’s counting down time until we talk about the real reason a man like Eamon came over here.

  The coffee pot dings, and I pour some mugs and bring them over.

  “Well, I’ll be upstairs.”

  “Naw, sit tight, boy-o.”

  I hesitate, trying to figure out his angle here before finally taking a seat myself at the table. Eamon brings the coffee mug to his lips and blows across the surface as he looks at Aela.

  “Are you close with Mick, Aela?”

  “Oh, you know.” She shrugs. “I know him from way back, I guess.”

  Eamon nods. “Let me tell you something about the Kings.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “They’ve been doing this a very long time. And some people think that makes them stuck in their ways — stuck in the past, or in the old ways of doing things.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe those people are right. Or,” he pauses and glances up at her. “Or it just means they’re smart fuckers, and they know exactly what they’re doing.”

  His eyes dart to me for an instant before dragging back to her.

  “This marriage.”

  Aela stiffens, and I feel my fist clench under the table.

  Eamon waves her off with a hand. “Aela, I’m good at what I do for the Kings because I see people, and believe me, I’ve been around long enough to understand that there’s an arrangement here.”

  She bristles. “Oh, no, Tommy an I—”

  “Aelish.” He glances up sharply at her. “I knew your father quite well, and he was a smart lad. I’m willing to bet the apple didn’t fallen far from the tree, now did it?”

  She smiles, looking into her coffee.

  “So why don’t you and I agree to cut out the fiction here? I know there’s an arrangement. I also don’t care, Aela.” He sets his mug down on the kitchen table. “I don’t think the Kings would either. Marriage is a powerful tool with an organization like this. It won’t be the first such arrangement, it won’t be the last, I can promise you.”

  Eamon looks up and smiles thinly. “You can stop pretending Tommy Flaherty is the love of your life, lass.”

  Aela smiles wryly.

  “But that’s not why I’m here, now is it?”

  His eyes lock in on me, and I frown, swallowing thickly.

  “There’s more to this arrangement, and that’s the part I’m worried about. Whatever’s happening here?” He wags a finger between Aela and me.

  “Eamon, you got the wrong—”

  He fixes me with a look, silencing me.

  “Son, you haven’t stopped looking at her since I walked in.”

  “It’s my job to watch her.”

  “It’s your job to protect her, not watch her like you can’t take your damn eyes off of her.”

  The kitchen goes quiet, and my jaw tightens as I stare at Eamon.

  “I don’t need to know the details. I don’t. But I’ll say this.” He gives both of us a steely look. “Figure this out. If this arrangement with Mick — whatever it its — is to go through, it stays through. Understood? You getting married to Tommy Flaherty to give Mick the claim, sure, fine. The Kings aren’t fucking stupid, and they get it.”

  He takes a deep breath, steepling his hands in front of him, elbows on the table.

  “Waffle back and forth though? Well,” he says with a shrug. “Well then, we all have problems, don’t we?”

  Neither Aela nor I say a thing as he picks up his mug and takes a final sip of his coffee.

  “You made your bed, Aela, and I’m sorry to say, you’re going to sleep in it now.”

  He glances at me and nods slowly. “You’re good at what you do for the Saints, boy-o. Don’t think the Kings don’t know that. But stay on their good side, yeah?”

  He stands and clears his throat. “Suppose I’ll see you both at the church in three days.”

  The room is still quiet but for the sound of my blood roaring in my ears.

  Eamon pauses at the kitchen door. “We do what we do because we must,” he says quietly. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  Chapter 23

  Aela

  The front door clicks shut after Eamon, leaving us both in silence.

  Liam swears under his breath as I press my head against the door, taking a deep breath. Slowly, I turn, and head back to where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter.

  He looks at me, his eyes blazing. “You can’t actually do this, Aela.”

  “Yeah, I can, actually,” I say softly. “’Cause I have to.”

  “Just tell me,” he says, taking my hands in his and pulling me close. “Tell me what you’re in for, with who.”

  “I— I can’t.”

  “You can. You know you can. It’s me, Aela, you know me,” he says quietly.

  “I did.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I did.”

  His brow darkens. “I thought we went through that.”

  “Knowing the reasons you told me to leave that day doesn’t change the fact that you and I haven’t known each other for six years, Liam. We’ve both been places, seen things, experienced things.” My shoulders feel heavy, my feet tired, and my head foggy. “We’ve changed, we got older.”

  “Maybe, but if you think for a second that in six years anything I think about you has changed, well…” He pulls me close, his lips brushing mine.

  “You’re dead wrong.”

  I nod, and I’m kissing him, falling into his lips and letting the strength in his arms hold me before I drop my head to his chest.

  “Tell me, Aela.”

  I take breath. “The Italians. Out in Vegas.”

  He goes rigid, blowing air through his lips. “Fuck, mob?”

  I nod.

  Liam swears softly into my hair.

  “How much?”

  I close my eyes. “A million.”

  “A million?!”

  I grimace, shaking my head. “It was a sure thing, I—”

  “Sounds like it wasn’t.”

  I bark out a brittle laugh. “Well, it was supposed to be. I was being fronted by this guy Nico Vecchio for a few months at the tables.” I shake my head. “It’s like an investment thing with these guys out there. They find a good player, they front them, and they take a cut. A huge game got set up — I mean huge. Not in the casinos either, this was a private thing. Nico was staking me, and he even told me the thing was rigged. It was a set up.”

  Liam’s brow furrows. “Sounds like it was.”

  “Yeah, well I got set up.”

  “Or your luck ran out.”

  I give him a look.

  “Or you were set up.”

  I sigh heavily. “They figured out who I was, where I came from. My connection to the Saints.” I smile bitterly. “Seems it doesn’t matter how far you get from Southie…”

  Liam’s arms circle me, pulling me tight against his chest.

  “Anyways, at least I’m guessing that’s what happened. In any case, the whole game went sideways, and suddenly, I was out of the ‘sure thing’ and owing Nico Vecchio more than I could possibly pay.”

  Liam nods. “So that’s it.”

  “That’s all she wrote.” I sigh. “That’s why I’m here. Feel better knowing?”

  “Not really. So Mick pays ‘em off, and you make his claim legit.”

  “X marks the spot.”

  He swears. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “I already have.”

  “No,” he says fiercely, shaking his head. “No, something else.”

  “There is no something else.”

  “The fuck there isn’t,” he snaps. “You’re not— you can’t just—”

  “We do what we have to do, Liam,” I say quietly.

  “Goddammit, Aela.”

  His voice is strained, and I look up as his hand cups my face.

  “You know I’ve never stopped,” he says
tightly. “I’ve never let that part of me go, ever since you—”

  I shake my head, putting a hand to his lips. “Don’t, please.”

  “Aela—”

  “Don’t say it,” I whisper, a tear running down my cheek. “Promise me you won’t say it.”

  His eyes flare. “Why not?”

  “Because if you do, I’ll fall apart, and if I don’t do this, I’m dead — actually dead.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, shivering as I feel his arms tighten around me. “So, if you do, you know, what I’m not going to let you say?”

  I finally bring myself to look up into his eyes, mine pleading.

  “Then don’t say it. Please.”

  His mouth goes tight, his eyes grim as they burn into mine.

  “Please just show me instead,” I whisper. “If we only have three days of this, then just show—”

  I moan as he kisses me. Fierce, hungry, his strong arms encircling me and closing me off from the outside world as he crushes his lips to mine.

  “Show me.”

  Chapter 24

  Liam

  This time, I drag it out.

  This time, I take my damn time, because this time, I don’t just want to leave her breathless, I want to leave her unable to even conceive of something better than what the two of us do together.

  “Bend over.”

  Aela’s breath catches as I rasp the words in her ear. We’re upstairs in her room, standing at the foot of her bed.

  My hand swats at her ass — not hard, but enough to make her moan.

  “Bend over, gorgeous,” I growl into her ear, my hand lingering on her ass, my palm sliding over the curve there. She nods, and slowly, she bends at the waist, her hands out in front of her gripping the bed frame.

  My jaw tightens and my cock throbs in my pants as I stand behind her, taking in that sweet submissive form. My hands slide to her waist, teasing over the skin that peeks out between her t-shirt and her yoga pants before I hook into the waistband. The material stretches as I peel it over the soft, perfect globes of her ass, split right down the middle with a black thong.

  I growl.