"The right person, huh?" I asked, hoping to disguise the sudden flux of disappointment I was feeling, which was stupid, because he was right and there was no reason I should feel disappointed, but I did, and I couldn't deny it, only ignore it and hope he didn't notice and that it went away.
"The right person," he echoed. "She'd have to be really special, though." His hand drifted down, down, found my legs parted just enough to allow him access.
"Special?"
"Yeah. They'd have to be particularly gorgeous."
"Obviously."
"And I mean, I have to admit I'm partial to blondes." His fingertip found my clit, and I wiggled, stifling a gasp.
"Go on," I said, twisting and squeezing my fist around the broad, springy head of his cock.
"And green eyes. There's something about that combination that just...gets me, you know?" He nudged me and I rolled to my back, spreading my thighs to let him touch me, keeping my stroking, twisting grip on his cock going slow and steady as he levered over me, murmuring down to me. "I mean, her hair has to be a very specific shade of honey and wheat and late afternoon sunlight, and her eyes have to be the green of really lush, healthy grass."
God, my heart. What was my heart doing? His words were like bullets hitting a bull's eye, each one thunking into my heart.
I lifted my unoccupied hand and twisted a lock of my hair, going along with his game, pretending to be unaffected by his touch or his words. "Huh. Would you look at this? My hair is kinda that color."
He nodded. "I've noticed. But there are a few other stipulations."
"Like what?" I asked, going breathless now as his touch skillfully brought heat and pressure and pleasure building up inside me.
"She has to have the body of a goddess. Her tits have to be just the right size, you know, full and round, and just...perfect. That's very hard to find, naturally perfect breasts." He cupped a breast as he said this, then leaned down and flicked his tongue over my nipple. "Almost as hard to find as a perfect ass. Heart-shaped, and juicy but firm. The kind of ass that you just can't keep your hands off of."
I rolled toward him, grabbed his wrist, and guided his hand to my butt. "Like this one?"
"Exactly like this one." He paused to breathe and gather his thoughts, groaning low as I continued to stroke and fondle and caress him, and then continued, acting unaffected. "But she's got to have more than just a perfect body, though."
"Do tell."
"She's got to be strong; she's got to have a personality that can match mine. I can be hard to handle, hard to deal with. She'd have to understand what it means to know that I've seen combat." He had me writhing and gasping, and I knew he was feeling the urgency in my touch too, but neither of us was willing to break first. "She's got to be funny, and smart, and easy to be around."
"That's a tall order, Mr. Badd," I said, and then managed a saucy grin, giving his cock a squeeze. "You might be interested to note that I happen to find you rather pleasant to...handle."
"That is interesting," he mused. "There's one other thing, though, one last requirement." He punctuated this by slipping two fingers into me and unerringly finding my G-spot.
"What's that?" I was going to be the one to break the game, to give away the need.
"She has to be an animal in bed. She's got to challenge me, not just passively go along with whatever I want." Those fingers of his...god, they were magic.
Sliding in, hooking, finding my G-spot and making me crazy, then slipping out to tease my clit.
"Get a condom," I said, finally.
He rolled off the bed, lithe and quick despite his muscular size. He dug in the back pocket of his jeans and produced a string of three condoms, ripped one free and tossed the rest onto his jeans. Tearing open the foil, he rolled the condom down his length and then crawled onto the bed.
He hovered over me, huge and hard and muscular, cock erect and bobbing between us, his eyes fierce. "You wouldn't know anyone like that, would you?"
I lifted up and bit his lower lip, sucked it into my mouth. "You know, I just might." I clung to his shoulders and wrapped my heels around his back. "Although, this person I know, she might have a few requirements of her own."
"Oh?"
I reached between us and fit the head of his cock between my nether lips, then hesitated. "Yeah. He'd have to have a body so perfect it'd put Channing Tatum to shame."
"Don't know who that is."
I laughed, despite the situation. "An actor. Big muscles, lots of abs. Really sexy."
"Betcha I could bench press him," Zane boasted.
I laughed again. "That wouldn't surprise me." I moved slightly, taking an inch or so of Zane's length into me; I was starting to wonder when he would take charge, when he would get tired of letting me be in control. "He'd have to have a huge, and I do mean huge cock. But not just big, his cock has to be shaped just right, and would have to fit in my hands just right, and my mouth, and inside me. The fit is imperative."
Zane pressed his forehead to mine and sank into me. "Like this?"
I gasped. "Yes, god yes, just like this."
He stilled when he was rooted fully within me. "What else?"
"He'd have to be a badass. I've known some badasses in my life, and this guy, he'd have to be the most badass of them all." I found myself caressing the back of his head and gazing up at him as I spoke. "But also kind, and funny. A sharp sense of humor is really important."
"I was voted class clown in high school," he said.
I snickered. "You were not."
He shook his head. "No, I wasn't. But I did make the X-O crack up so bad during a briefing once that he had to leave the room."
"X-O?"
"Executive officer."
"Ah."
"Any other requirements?" Zane asked.
"Um..." I pretended to think as Zane began slowly thrusting into me. "Hmmm...there was one other thing, but I'm having a hard time remembering what it was."
He bent and claimed my mouth with his, lips scouring mine, tongue searching, demanding. It was a dominating kiss, one that reminded me who he was, what kind of man he was.
"That jog your memory at all?" he asked.
I was shaking all over from the kiss, and found it genuinely hard to think, to follow the conversation. "Oh, ummm...yeah. The last thing is kind of a two-parter. He has to be the most amazing kisser in the entire world--like he has to be able to kiss me literally stupid and breathless."
Zane obeyed the implied suggestion, doubling down on the hot, dominating kiss, moving into me in rhythm with his probing tongue, making it no longer just a kiss but an extension of the union of our bodies, a continuation of the physical chemistry, the connection, the searing intensity I know we both felt as he thrust into me.
This was more than just the merging of our bodies; I knew it, and he knew it...and the kiss proved it.
"The other part?" Zane prompted, after breaking the kiss.
"He has to just instinctively, innately know my body. He has to be able to make me come in thirty seconds flat. And there has to be...something about the way we have sex that's just..." I trailed off, finding it impossible to summon the right word.
"More than real?" Zane suggested.
"Yes, exactly," I said, moving with him, now. "More than real."
There was just us moving in synch, then, breathing matched, eyes locked, bodies slipping and sliding and sweating together. No hurry, no tricks, no weird positions or thinly veiled suggestions, just us, just our bodies and our hearts and whatever this thing was we shared.
He was moving slowly, still, though. Holding back, maybe.
"Zane?"
"Hmmm?"
"You're holding back."
"A little, yeah."
"There's no point to everything we just said if we're not both all in." I lifted up and kissed him, one hand on his waist, the other wrapped around the back of his head.
His movements faltered, stopped, and he stared down at me for a moment, and then he gr
inned at me. "You asked for it."
A beat of silence, in which I was about to ask what he meant, but never got the chance. He pulled out of me and gripped me by the hips, flipping me to my belly.
Oh.
I moved to my hands and knees, ready and willing to take him like this. He slid his hands over my ass, and then shifted closer to me, upright on his knees behind me. I watched over my shoulder as he gripped his shaft and guided himself into me.
"Oh god," I murmured.
"Ready?"
"Give it to me, Zane."
He pushed into me, once, gently. "Like that?"
"More."
He moved faster, thrusting harder. "Like that?"
"Yeah," I breathed.
His hands gripped my hipbones and pulled me back into his thrusts, which were getting harder and harder with each successive slap of his hips against my ass.
"More, Zane."
"More?"
"More...everything."
He slowed, then, in seeming contradiction to what I'd just said. Withdrawing slowly, he hesitated at the apex and then slammed into me, forcing a cry of surprised bliss from my lips as he filled me so suddenly. Like that, then, slowly pulling back and fucking in hard, again and again, until the slow pull-outs grew faster and the thrusts in harder, until he was grunting, yanking me back into his thrusts, fucking me so hard I felt my ass jiggling, felt my tits swaying back and forth, and all I could do was whine and whimper and groan through it and slam back into his beautiful, powerful, uninhibited thrusts.
"Don't stop, Zane," I begged. "Keep going. Come for me. Come inside me."
"Couldn't stop now even if I wanted to, honey," he murmured. "I'm close."
"Yeah?" I breathed. "How close?"
"Fuck, fuck, Mara--so close."
"Are you gonna come hard?"
"You have no fuckin' idea."
"Show me, Zane. Come for me," I groaned, slamming back into him.
He groaned long and low in his chest, then, his thrusts faltering as he buried himself deep. "Now, ohhhh god, Mara--Mara."
"Yeah, Zane. I like it when you say my name while you come."
"Mara."
"Say my whole name, Zane. Amarantha. Shout it while you come inside me."
"Even your name is the most beautiful thing," he growled. "Amarantha! Now, now, god, now, Amarantha!" Zane shouted, fucking me with raw abandon, driving into me with all the power he possessed.
I felt it then, felt him pour into the condom.
And I knew something, right then, as the force of his orgasm released one of my own--
As amazing as it was to feel him come like that, so hard, so powerfully...I needed to feel him come inside me. Bare. Raw. Nothing between us. I needed it, no matter what. And I knew the next time we did this, there wouldn't be anything between us.
"Goddamn, Amarantha," he gasped, when we were both spent.
He pulled out of me and collapsed to his back, and this time I didn't deny myself the comfort of nuzzling into the shelter of his arms.
Claire was right: post-coital snuggles were the best.
There was a knock at the door, then, the same light, tentative rap. "Miss Quinn?" Mrs. Kingsely called. "Dinner is in fifteen minutes, if you and, um...your guest...would like to join the others."
"We'll be right out, Mrs. Kingsley."
"Okay, dear."
There wasn't really a chance after that to get into the weird, roundabout conversation Zane and I had had, but it was running on repeat in my head the whole time we were having dinner with the other B&B guests.
Mrs. Kingsley was small, frail, and sweet, but her gaze was sharp and knowing as Zane and I--each of us having showered as quickly as only former military personnel can--emerged, dressed and trying to act like we hadn't just been banging each other's brains out. Mrs. Kingsley knew, though, judging by the twinkle in her eye as we took our places at the table.
She'd set out two places for us, between a young couple from Utah on their honeymoon and an upper-middle aged woman who claimed to be going through a mid-life crisis, which, according to her, involved traveling the world and imbibing copious amounts of red wine.
Mr. Kingsley was tall, slender, silver-haired, and quiet, pouring wine and bringing out bowls of salad. There were four other people at the table, two more couples; a man and woman in their mid-thirties who seemed content to eat in silence and listen to the chatter, and another young couple from Sydney, Australia, who seemed determined to monopolize the conversation in between bouts of hurling playful insults at each other and making sex eyes at each other.
As she and her husband served the entrees, Mrs. Kingsley shot a glance at me. "Miss Quinn, You're from San Francisco, I believe?"
I nodded as I took a bite of salad. "Yep. My friend was on a cruise that stopped here in Ketchikan and I was due to take some of my vacation days, so..." I shrugged, hoping it would stay there.
But, judging by the looks Zane and I were getting, it wouldn't happen like that. The walls were thin, and Zane and I hadn't exactly been...discreet.
Mrs. Kingsley glanced at Zane. "So how are you liking the cruise, then?"
I decided to just bite the bullet and make the conversation interesting. Before Zane could answer, I did. "Oh, no, my friend's boat already left. Just an hour or so ago, actually. She lives in Seattle."
Mrs. Kingsley reddened and busied herself removing empty salad bowls as the diners finished eating. "Oh, um, I see. So you and your boyfriend..."
I winked at Zane, who hid a grin behind a bite of stew. "Zane and I just met, actually. We've known each other--what? Like forty-eight hours?"
Zane shrugged. "Um, yeah, about that. Maybe a little more. The hours have sort of all...blurred together at this point, if you know what I mean."
Mrs. Kingsley coughed in scandalized shock. "Oh. Oh, I see." She glanced at Zane, still trying to salvage the conversation. "And you're from where?"
He took a sip of wine with a delicacy that I wouldn't have thought him capable of. "Oh, I'm from Ketchikan, actually. Born and raised." He left a dramatic pause. "I'm Zane Badd."
Mr. Kingsley's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "I knew your father." He took the stack of bowls from his wife and headed for the kitchen.
Zane nodded. "I expect you did. Just about everyone knew Dad. He was a hard man to miss."
"I was sad to hear of his passing."
Zane nodded. "Yeah, so was I."
"Condolences," Mr. Kingsley said, and then vanished into the kitchen, his contribution to the conversation apparently over.
"I've heard all of you Badd boys have come back to Ketchikan," Mrs. Kingsley said, and then frowned at her own unintentional turn of phrase. "I mean, you and your brothers."
Zane chuckled. "We're the Badd brothers, Mrs. Kingsley. The name fits us, and none of us have ever pretended otherwise."
Mrs. Kingsley shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, possibly regretting opening the conversation. "Yes, well...your elder brother, Sebastian, he did a remarkable job keeping your father's bar open."
"That he did," Zane said, finishing his food. "And now we're all back in good ol' Ketchikan, all eight of us. All grown up now, too. Last time all eight of us were under one roof, half of my younger brothers were just kids."
"All eight of you," Mrs. Kingsley said, as if the full force of what that meant was sinking in. "Oh my."
"Yeah, exactly." Zane laughed. "I'd advise keeping your granddaughters indoors, next time they come visiting. They were shaping up to be real heartbreakers if I remember correctly, and Canaan and Corin would be right about their age."
"That's about enough of that talk," Mr. Kingsley bit out from the kitchen doorway.
Zane just laughed again. "I was just kidding. Mostly." He stood up and extended a hand to me. "You ready, hot stuff? Movie starts in thirty."
I stood up. "Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley. It was delicious."
"Our pleasure, dear. Have fun." She turned to listen to whatever it
was the Aussie couple was bickering about.
We were outside in the golden evening light, then, the air cool but not cold, warm but not hot. Zane took my hand and we walked unhurriedly toward downtown.
I glanced up at him. "What was all that about? With the Kingsleys?"
"I was messing with them, that's all."
I frowned at him. "What's that mean?"
He shrugged. "Well, our mom died going on eleven years ago. It was sudden, some kind of cancer that struck hard and fast, nothing anyone could do. Which left dad to raise eight boys by himself while running a bar. He'd been a hell-raiser himself, back in the day, until Mom got ahold of him and tamed him a bit, but we've all got a lot of Dad in us, which means they'd have had their hands full even if Mom had lived. But raising us alone? Dad didn't stand a chance, and he was a mess over Mom's death anyway." He paused, and then continued. "We ran wild. No mom, Dad was busy and emotionally unavailable or whatever...so we all fought, drank, and fucked our way through this town. The name Badd is synonymous in with trouble in this town. We're the Badd brothers. We always stuck together, looked out for each other. So, yeah, I knew the Kingsley's would know my name."
"And the thing about their granddaughters?"
Zane laughed. "Oh, that. Well, Rachel Kingsley, their daughter, she always had...pretensions of grandeur, I guess. Thought she was better than all of us in this stupid little town, that was the air she always put on. Married this hoity-toity investment banker over in New York City. They come visit every now and again, with their twin daughters, Aerie and Tate. Same age as Cane and Cor. And like I said, they're heartbreakers, Aerie and Tate are." He pronounced the first name AIR-ee. "Those girls are seriously stunning, and seem to have escaped inheriting their parents' sticks-up-the-ass. The last thing Rachel Kingsley would ever allow, though, is for her daughters to be caught so much as looking at any member of the Badd family."
"I see. And you think this is funny?"
He nodded. "Yep. I sure as hell do. We earned our reputation, and we're proud of it. But we're not bad people. We'll help you, if you need help. We didn't go around boinking underage girls or married women--although there was that one time Bax got caught with a guy's wife, but she hadn't told him she was married, so that was on her, not him. Point is, we were rough boys and didn't follow anyone's rules but our own--we're still like that, come to think of it--but we weren't cruel or mean. We weren't bullies. And Bax, he never told anyone, but he volunteered sixth period through all of senior year in the special education room. He was really close with all those kids, good friends to them. Anyone picked on the special ed kids, Bax would pound 'em. But still, a lot of the locals look down on us. Or at best, aren't quite sure what to make of us. They were all thankful when Xavier left, because that meant all the Badd brothers except Bast had left Ketchikan....meaning their daughters were safe, as long as they stayed away from Badd's Bar and Grill. And now? Here we are, all eight of us."
Badd Ass Page 12
