Mean Boy: Bad Boy Romance

by Amy Faye

  Mean Boy

  Bad Boy Romance

  Amy Faye

  Published by Heartthrob Publishing

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  Bad Boy’s Baby

  Contemporary Redemption Romance

  Amy Faye

  Published by Heartthrob Publishing

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  Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…

  I pounded my beer until I was a little buzzed. It was a nice bar, surprisingly, but I didn't want to be there anymore. “You wanna come back to my place?” I asked. Going home alone sounded like a lousy idea, and I missed the way his hands felt. “I want you to come back to my place with me,” I added. The look on his face told me he wanted to say no, and I just couldn't have that.

  He looked at me for a good long while, then nodded. “Alright. Let's go.” We left the bar.

  As soon as we got into my house, his mouth was on mine. Sudden unexpected emotions forced themselves upon me as I realized this felt right. Lust washed over me, but maybe that was just because of how drunk I was.

  Brant broke the kiss and tipped my head to the side, revealing my neck. His lips left quick kisses on it before he bit down just hard enough to raise goosebumps on my skin.

  “Ahh,” I moaned, gripping his suit. He sunk his teeth into me again, then pulled me over to the couch. He sat down and draped his arms over the back. It was clear what he wanted.

  I thought for a second, then took a deep breath and bent down. My black dress hiked up over my thighs. Brant leaned back against the couch, smiling in anticipation.

  Closing his eyes, he looked innocent for just a moment, but I knew that something much less innocent was hidden in those pants. I slid my hand up his thigh, gripping his muscles and enjoying how hard they were. I wanted him to feel just how much I wanted him in every movement I made.

  Taking the clasp of his buckle, I pulled it loose and slid the thick leather out from under him. My dainty hands pulled at Brant's pants, unbuttoning the clasp and pulling down the zipper. Brant gave a pleased sigh, running his hands through my hair.

  His touch sent a shiver down my spine as I prepared to take him into my mouth for the first time in 4 years. Anticipation was building up within me.

  Tossing back my hair, I grabbed his pants. He lifted himself so that I could with one smooth movement pull them down to his ankles, along with his boxer briefs. As soon as I saw his glorious cock, my eyes widened and I held my breath.

  That was the cock I had been missing for so long. God, it looked delicious. It was so beautiful and so big, and it was already half hard and ready for me to take it. It twitched while I looked at it.

  Licking my lips, I took his penis in my hand and gripped it tight. Merely holding his unbelievable cock in my hand forced a moan from my lips, a shiver down my spine. The muscles in my lower abdomen began to tickle and my mound was hot and soaking wet.

  In a word, I was fucking horny.

  My eyes flicked up at him, and I caught him watching me with a smirk on his face. His hand left my hair so that his arm could drape over the couch again, allowing me to take complete control over his prick.

  “I'm going to suck your cock until you cum down my throat,” I told him, flashing him a grin. I was acting like a slut all of a sudden, and it felt damn good. Brant smiled back down at me, his rebellious jaw set, then leaned his head back and waited for me to get started.

  His cock was so smooth, and it twitched in my hand. Moving it up and down, I allowed his foreskin to slide along with my hand. He shifted in his seat, his stomach muscles tensing then relaxing.

  After only a few seconds, precum began to leak from his prick. I was absolutely salivating while I watched it. I wanted to taste it so bad, so I leaned forward while pushing my hair over my shoulder to get it out of the way.

  With my tongue held out as if I were about to taste an ice cream, I pressed my wet muscle against his velvety skin and tasted his salty precum.

  “Ah,” he sighed, his fingers scratched against the couch.

  I took that as a good sign. Opening my mouth as wide as possible, I placed it over his cock. Only taking the tip of his prick into my mouth at first, I sucked hard on it and teased him. He sucked in a hot breath and held it as I played with him.

  His precum was a salty, naughty taste in my mouth. I took another inch, then another, until his manhood was in my throat. Looking up, I saw that Brant brought his hand to his mouth and was covering, trying his best to stay quiet. He muffled a moan behind that fist. The sound made my cunt drip.

  A quick movement and his whole member was deep down my throat. My gag reflex was going to kick in at some point, but I held myself down on that cock for as long as possible. Brant's thighs were quivering beneath me. It felt so good to give him pleasure like that.

  The hand that wasn't covering his mouth was gripping the couch tight as he writhed in ecstasy.

  With a few coughs and sputters, I lifted my head and choked in some air. As soon as I composed myself again, I went back down on him, stuffing more of that cock into my mouth. With my head bobbing up and down, I teased him and sucked him as much as I could.

  He gasped and moaned beneath his hand, his hips scooting down so that he could get closer to me.

  I pulled my head up and looked at him, waiting for him to notice that I stopped sucking him off. “Now, I'm going to ride you until you come in me. Are you ready?”

  He only nodded eagerly, holding my hips as I stood to guide me over him. He watched me with those fierce eyes as I kicked off my shoes and hiked up my dress. Pulling my panties to the side, I revealed my glistening cunt and showed him that I was completely ready for his huge dick to be inside of me.

  Stepping up onto the couch, I grabbed Brant by the shoulders and used them to keep me steady. He cradled my hips and back with surprising tenderness and strength, not allowing me to fall as I positioned his prick at my entrance and lowered myself onto him.

  “Sssshit,” I moaned through clenched teeth. Once he was fully within me, I wrapped my legs around him and placed my arms around his neck.

  His large, strong hands grabbed the top of my dress and pulled it down, revealing my tits. His eyes ate them up, and then his hands gripped both of them.

  I didn't move and inch, but his cock twitched inside of me. Even just that sent a wave of pleasure through my body. It had been too long since I had some good cock in me, and it had been way too long since it was Brants. Our past be damned, I wanted this man more than anything else.

  I rubbed my palm against the back of his neck, kissing him as I stroked it with gentle motions. Then I ran my fingers through his hair, a move that I knew he found relaxing. His shoulders relaxed and, finally, I moved my hips back.

  His cock moved with me, hitting me in just the right spot. Pulling myself forward again, I pressed my lips against his. They were incredibly soft, and so familiar. I realized I had never really forgotten how gentle his kisses were, the soft curve of his upper lip.

  I was blushing when his cock twitched in me again, and something in both of us switched gears. Wrapping his arms around me, he pushed my hips forward then pulled them back again. We moved rhythmically, his cock buried deep within me. I got goosebumps when he hit that one super sensitive spot within me, crying out a moan. I shuddered, tension inside of me building up.

  His fingernails scraped my hip's skin as he frantically pushed me back and forth, grinding me on
top of him. He felt so big within me, his cock so deep that it was nestled against my cervix and hit it with each wiggle. It was just the right kind of pain.

  Brant forced my legs open wider, pushing my hips up, somehow getting even more of his huge cock inside of me. I gasped, my nipples stiffening. He sucked one into his mouth.

  Grabbing his shirt, I used it to help me move. I rode him hard and fast, pushing myself closer to orgasm with each stroke of my hips.

  As I felt my own passion growing and suddenly swell, his cock twitched within me and suddenly shots of his hot cum coated my insides. That feeling, that one sensation was what finally sent me over the edge. I screamed as all of my muscles shoot violently.

  I let go of Brant's shirt and almost fell before he caught me. He held me, his cock still inside of me, and carried me to the stairs. “We're going to your bedroom, and I'm going to make you orgasm,” he said. “Over and over again, until we both fall asleep together.”

  “Sounds absolutely perfect,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him up the stairs.

  Chapter One

  Drunk and pissed off. That was about the only way someone could describe me most days, but especially as I stood from my stool at the bar and yanked another man off of his. He fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. His friends hadn't even noticed. They kept their eyes forward.

  “Don't fucking talk to a lady like that,” I said, pointing down at him. “It's rude.”

  He had been bothering the bartender, a woman I was fond of if for no other reason than because she talked to me while I drank. She was nice enough though I had never managed to get her into my bed. Not for a lack of trying.

  “What the fuck!” He yelled, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor. “I'm gonna kick your ass!” His friends turned around then, but they only watched. No doubt they were used to him acting like an ass.

  I didn't know his name. I think he was new, probably there to spend the spring with family. He looked like a snot-nosed college kid, ready to party it up for spring break. Though why someone would choose Bell Bend for their destination was beyond me.

  Well, no matter his reasons, he was about to go home with a black eye.

  My fist struck out as he stood, but he dodged at just the right moment, holding up his hands. “Whoa, calm down, man!”

  “Get the fuck out of the bar right now, or I'll make your regret every choice you made that led up to this point.” I grinned and thumbed my nose at him before dropping down. Using my leg, I tripped him to the ground and mounted him.

  My words had been slurred. I was more drunk than I remembered, but who the fuck cared? My fists felt damn good as they met his face, over and over and over again.

  “Brant, enough!” The bartender had come out from behind the bar, her slim body grabbing onto mine and trying to hold me back. She wasn't much use against me, she was too small, but she did her damnedest. I would have been impressed if I hadn't been too focused on making that asshole pay for calling her a twat after she refused to give him a blowjob.

  This was becoming a nightly ritual, and I had to say, it was one I was starting to enjoy. Kicking a stranger's ass was nice and satisfying.

  --

  I left home and never looked back.

  It was a small town, especially back then when there wasn't even a Wal-Mart to speak of within 30 miles. It's grown since then, a lot in 4 years, but it was still tiny.

  Stifling, actually, after having spent so long in Ann Arbor. Ann Arbor was exactly my pace: a college town, but with small town aesthetics and liberal politics. It was so different from my hometown, Bell Bend, that I actually had culture shock when I first moved in.

  There was only one face I missed when I left. Not even my own mother's face, since we had fought bitterly about me leaving.

  It's funny. The only face I missed then was the one I desperately hoped I wouldn't see as I came back.

  When I stepped out of the cab that drove me 4 hours north to Bell Bend, I was hit with that old smell. That smell of nostalgia and bad memories and a lot of books, since my mom's house was near to a library.

  It was well past dark, and the sidewalk was damn from a recent shower. After paying the cab, I took my luggage from the trunk and rolled it up the damp cement to the front steps that I had helped my mom build out of wood when I was 12.

  She did the best she could, for a single mother. She raised me to know right from wrong, to spend a lot of time in that library next door, and to not be afraid to do my own work.

  Mom died when I was in my junior year of college. I came back for the funeral, but I hadn't had time to really come and deal with her belongings until after graduation. Alright, maybe I also made excuses not to come back home.

  Could anyone really blame me? The house was huge and still full of her things, and dust. When I unlocked it, I expected to be met with some awful smell, but it was clean if a bit musty from being locked up for so long.

  The staircase leading up to my old room greeted me first. The upstairs was essentially just one large bedroom, though as a teenager I had arranged it in a way to turn it into 3 rooms: the bedroom, a living area with my tiny TV, and a study area with my bookshelves and desk.

  Leaving my luggage at the bottom of the stairs, I shut the front door and took a look around. Everything was still arranged perfectly. The painting Mom had a friend do of me when I was 5 was hanging over the fireplace, which had of course been gated and locked when I was born.

  Mom hadn't been sure of who my father was. I guess there was more than one possibility. It never bothered me, not knowing. Not until she was dead and it was impossible for me to ever find out. Things might have been easier if I hadn't felt so alone.

  I never wanted to come back to Bell Bend. It was a town that held nothing for me, and if I had my way, I would be back in Ann Arbor in only a month or two. I had a few applications in place for museums in Ann Arbor, and with my past work experience at the library next door as well as two separate internships, there were few applicants that could have bested me.

  My goal was to take 2 months, pack everything up, sell what I could, get rid of most everything else, and keep only the most precious items. After that, I'd get the house sold and I'd be out of there for good.

  –

  Only a few hits after I had pinned him down, a large man grabbed me by the shoulders and hoisted me up and away from my target. I struggled out of his grasp, but he held me tight.

  “You betta stop wiggling or you'll be the one with the black eye, Brant.” It was Jerry, an old friend from high school that got in with the local motorcycle club at a young age, following in the footsteps of his dad. He put on a lot of weight, much of it muscle.

  I was not thin, but he easily lifted me up and carried me out of the bar. “Let me the fuck go,” I slurred, turning to try and take a swing at him. If I couldn't fight that nameless asshole, Jerry would do. Anyone I could fight, I would, gladly.

  “No I fucken won't,” he answered, his accent pissing me off. “Yer causen trouble and I just wanted a drink. Yer gonna go home and get some sleep. Don't you have a real fight tomorrow anyway?”

  He was right. I spat on the cement, which was already wet from the torrential rains earlier. “That was a real fight in there, too.”

  Jerry laughed. “Yeah, but that one can getcha in some real trouble.” He looked back into the bar through the small window on the door. His huge beard stuck out from his wide face. “Looks like he's callen the cops. You should probably go.”

  With that, he left me on the road. I crossed my arms and leaned against the bar's fake brick wall. He wouldn't fucking call the cops on me, he wouldn't dare. I'm a local. Who the hell calls the cops?

  No, he would come out there for a smoke at some point, and then I would jump him again.

  Sirens started from a long ways away, and still I thought nothing of them. I was so damn sure that some fucking tourist wouldn't dare to call the cops on a local that just beat his ass. I just stoo
d there, arms crossed, leaning against that wall and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Eventually, I was proven very wrong. A black cop car pulled up. It had Bell Bend written in a hideous font in red on the side of the car. A man I recognized stepped out, but I didn't know his name. I knew the names of most cops, but not that one.

  “Brant Taggart?” He asked, stepping up from the street and onto the sidewalk near me. His face with thin, his nose long and crooked. Crooked like mine. Like someone that got in a lot of fist fights, despite his thin body.

  “Yep, that's me.” I was still perfectly calm as I watched him.

  “You're under arrest for assault and disturbing the peace.” He grabbed my hand and twisted my arm, forcing me forward against his car. I was surprised for a moment too long, which let him get the cuffs on me before I started fighting back.

  “Hey! You can't do this, he was being a prick!”

  The officer sighed as he tugged me up and opened the back door of his car. “You don't deal with pricks by beating the shit out of them. I've seen you fight before. I know you could kill a normal person with those fists of yours if you tried. Now get in and shut up.”

  I did what I was told, but there was a stupid grin on my face. He thought I was strong enough to kill a man? Now ain't that special.

  –

  So determined to be done with the house as soon as possible, I spent an hour as soon as I stepped in packing up trinkets from the TV room. Mom had a whole cabinet full of fragile glass and ceramic decorations, shaped like angels or dolphins or flowers.

  Inside the same cabinet was all of my school yearbooks, all the way back to Kindergarten. “No, don't look at that,” I told myself, but of course I couldn't listen. I was always a sucker for reliving bad memories.

  Pulling out the yearbook for my senior year, I flipped it open and found my photo easily. It said Vivian Sable, “Most Likely To Become A Librarian” underneath it. My hair had been done up in a tight bun, to hide the blue streak I had put in it. My mom hated that little rebellion, done while at a friend's birthday party.