Beauty and the Bad Boy

by Scarlett Dupree

  While he pulled into the garage, I took the helmet off and walked towards him, intending to return it. But he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me off my feet. God, he was so strong; he made me feel light as a feather. He brought my face and my mouth level with his. Naturally, I wrapped my arms around his sturdy neck and kissed him, the helmet dangling from my fingers by its strap.

  When we arrived at the front of the garage, I looked up, and reached with my free hand and caught the pull for the door, brought it down; all while Jake had his face buried in the crook of my shoulder. He certainly had a thing for collarbones. I loved it.

  He walked us all the way to the front door that way, then let me slide down his body until my feet touched the ground, so I could turn and unlock the door. We walked in together, Jake's hands still on my hips.

  I pushed the door closed, tossed the helmet on the couch, took Jake's hand, and led him down the hall to my bedroom. Not wanting the glaring light of the overhead, but wanting to see every godly inch of him, I walked into the dark room and switched on the lamp sitting on my bureau. The light was warm and golden. It flattered his gorgeous, bronzed body so much. The urge to lick it all over was intensifying.

  I slid off my jacket and tossed it on the armchair. Kicking off my boots and socks, I turned to face him. He took off his jacket and tossed them both around me to land on the chair nearby.

  I started to pull my top up, but he stepped up against me and took my hands, lifting them up over my head. "Me," was all he said. The word had me trembling all over.

  He took my shirt in his fingers and pulled it out of my jeans and up over my head. He tossed it aside. I brought my arms down to loop around his pulsing neck and fed the fingers of one hand into his hair. I pulled his mouth down to mine.

  The kiss was hot and deep. I took his lower lip between my teeth and bit down. He groaned and wrapped his arms around my bare torso to pull me in close. Then he took a step back and held me away. I let go of his hair and dropped my hands to his shoulders. He looked down at his hands clasping my waist–I did, too–and we both watched as he slid them across the waistband of my low-slung jeans, over my stomach and up over the ridge of my ribcage to my breasts, still bound by the smooth satin of my simple white bra.

  It was the first time he'd had his hands on my breasts, and I arched my back and sucked in a long breath at the pleasure. He cupped both mounds in his hands and slid his thumbs back and forth over their peaks. I reflexively clutched at his shoulders, and my fingernails dug in.

  He reached around then and undid the clasp, pulling my bra off my shoulders and down my arms. I let it drop to the floor. He took the weight of each breast into his hands and pressed his palms against my swollen nipples.

  "You are so beautiful, Dakota. Jesus. You hurt my heart." He dropped to his knees and tipped his head up to take a breast into his mouth and suckle them, his hands on my waist again.

  I bent at the waist slightly to bring myself closer to his mouth, resting my hands on his shoulders. His tongue lapped at my nipple. My knees buckled and I cried out. He switched to lavish the other breast, and I started to shake. It had been so long, so long. I could feel my sex organ throbbing and opening slightly. I was overwhelmed with sensation. I needed a second to catch my breath. "Jake, I need…" I started, "…I need…" I couldn't finish.

  He released my breast and kissed his way down to my belly button. "I know, babe," he whispered against me, his stubble tickling my stomach, making it twitch. "I do, too." He swirled his tongue in and around a few times, then continued down to the top of my jeans. I was pretty sure he didn't mean the same need I'd been trying to express, but I didn't care anymore.

  Still on his knees before me, he unbuckled my belt and undid my button and zipper. He pushed his hands inside my jeans and slid them off my hips and down to the floor. I stepped out of them and was left wearing nothing but my purple satin thong, while he was still fully clothed. He was still wearing his bloody boots. I felt, for the first time, self-conscious and, without really thinking about it, I started to cover myself with my hands. He caught them both in his and held them away. "Don't. I want to see you."

  I replied, "I want to see you, too." He grinned up at me. His dimples making every pleasure nerve stand at attention. He stood up and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

  I'd already surmised from being pressed so close to him tonight that what was waiting for me under his shirt was a hard, muscled body. But still the sight of his bare torso was thrilling–all the more so, for me, because so much of him was covered in ink. Across his broad chest, down his sides, around his shoulders and down his arms. I wasn't counting, but he had a lot of tattoos. It made him dangerous and exciting. I wanted to explore him all over.

  I leaned against him, letting my hands and mouth roam all over his bare skin. I pressed my lips against his nipple and sucked it gently into my mouth. He tasted magnificent. His head dropped back, and I heard him make a rumbling noise–I felt it, too, against my lips. I licked and kissed my way across his chest to suckle his other nipple, relishing the twitch of his solid hips against my belly. His hands were on my head, threaded through my hair, and he pressed me harder against his chest. I bit down.

  "Dakota, fuck!" he gasped, and pulled my head up from his chest. He leaned down and kissed me with a new ferocity, clutching my buttocks in his hands. He bent his knees a bit as he slid his hands to my thighs and lifted me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed, craving the rough pleasure of his still-denim-clad cock pressed hard against my core. He walked to the end of my bed, leaned over, and set me down. Then he stood up.

  I scooted backwards to the head of the bed and rested on my elbows. I left one leg straight and bent the other up at the knee, the sole of that foot flat on the bed. I smiled sideways and tipped my bent leg out, exposing myself to him.

  He looked, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I could feel myself becoming very wet. He pulled off his boots and socks, but he didn't move to take off his jeans. He put a knee on the end of the bed and crawled up to loom over my body.

  His eyes pierced mine as they lit up and burned with ferocity, warning me of his desires. He caught my mouth in his and kissed me deeply. He used his body to force my arms down so I was flat on the bed under him.

  I wrapped my arms around his back and pushed even deeper into the kiss. My lips would probably be bruised in the morning. I. Did. Not. Care. He was propped up on his elbows, his arms on either side of my head. His hands threaded into my hair, holding my head. His whole body was pressing mine into the mattress; our bare chests were insanely fused.

  His belt buckle ground into the sensitive skin of my abdomen. Still I didn't feel close enough. I wanted more. I pulled my legs up and wrapped them around his waist. He groaned and flexed his hips to thrust hard against my sweating body. He dropped his head to my shoulder, panting.

  He lifted his head and kissed my cheek, then pushed himself away and slid down my body. I quickly felt cold as his warm skin left mine, and I moaned in protest. He laughed softly. "I'm not going anywhere, babe. Relax." It was the millionth time he'd called me ‘babe’. But now I liked what it implied.

  He stopped halfway and pressed a lingering kiss to the satin triangle at the apex of my thighs. I gasped and pushed myself against his mouth. He hooked his thumbs through the lace strings of my thong and pulled gently. I lifted my hips up, and he slid the rest of the way to the end of the bed with my thong in his fingers. He stood up again and pulled the small piece of satin and lace off my feet. He held it to his face for a second, and then dropped it on the floor. Then finally, he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and pushed them to the floor.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Nothing came between him and his 501s. His bottom half was just as compelling as his top half. The title ‘Sex God’ did not do him justice. His legs were long and heavily muscled. He had tattoos on both hips. And at the juncture of two incredibly sexy hip muscles w
as his long, thick, and steely hard cock. Sweet Christ. I could feel my nipples gaining more sensitivity as my folds opened up further. I’d never been so wet in my life. I licked my lips and started to scoot towards him.

  He knelt on the bed between my legs and pushed me back. "Me," he said again. I wanted to touch him, to taste him, but his insistence on taking control was really hot right now. So I lay back on the pillows and gladly watched.

  He pushed his hands slowly up the insides of my thighs until his thumbs touched my aching core. I sucked in my breath. He traced up the length of my folds and stopped just before he reached my clit. "Ah, Dakota. You're so wet, babe," he rasped. He hooked my legs over his shoulders. He put his hands under my aching buttocks and pulled me towards him. He bent down, pressed his lips against my clit, and sucked.

  Holy fuck! I about exploded out of my skin. I arched all the way off the bed, only my head still making contact. I heard myself making shrill little noises, but I couldn't stop myself. He knew me. "God, Jake! I can't–" He stopped sucking and blew gently on the swollen nub until I took a breath and settled back on the bed.

  He looked up at me. "Is this good?"

  "God, yes. God, yes. It just feels so... much."

  He chuckled. "Enjoy. God, you taste so good." He pressed his tongue flat against my clit and licked. My orgasm was right there. I clutched at his hair and clamped my legs to his head. I felt him slide his fingers in and pump them deep into me, as his tongue worked me steadily. I was getting wetter and wetter. I surged hard against his mouth, his hand, and screamed. He kept going, and I screamed again. And again. My whole body curling around him.

  Eventually he ceased, and I relaxed back onto the pillows, dazed. He eased his fingers out and pulled up so that our heads were level. He was stretched between my legs, propped on his elbows. The hard length of his cock was pressed between us. I yearned for him to be inside me. I wanted to feel every inch of his aching cock.

  Still breathless and shaking, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him deeply. I tasted myself in his mouth; his chin was drenched with me. I broke the kiss and pressed my lips against his ear. "I want you inside me now. I want to feel you inside me."

  He made a sound in the back of his throat, and leaned over on one elbow. He ran his hand through his hair before running his hand from my collarbone over my breast, my stomach, my hip, and finally to my leg. He pulled lightly on my thigh. I received the message loud and clear and folded both legs up to his hips. He positioned himself between my thighs and just barely entered me.

  I tried to push against him, to bring him in deeper, but he held my hips down. "Easy, babe." Fucking hell, he was fucking killing me. He grabbed my ankle and pulled it behind him. He commanded me to wrap my legs around his waist. So I did.

  It was so hard to stay still; I wanted him deep in my core. But I was letting him run this show, and so far that was working out just fine. I closed my eyes, waiting. Patience was not really my nature in such situations. He brought his other arm back up and slid it under my shoulder, so that he was propped again on both elbows. He nuzzled my cheek and whispered, "Hey there, gorgeous. Open your eyes for me."

  I did as requested, and watched him looking down at me. He looked back up and I whispered, “Are you lost too, Bad Boy?”

  “I was until you, Beauty.” His eyes never left mine as he finally pushed all the way in, with one long, slow move. He was so long and thick that the stretch was a little uncomfortable. Wow. He stayed still, watching me with a look I could only think of as curious concern. I lay still, too, adjusting.

  I’d given birth, so I wasn't worried. But it had been a long time, and he was certainly not average. In any conceivable way. I flexed my hips slightly to ease a sharpish pinch, and he closed his eyes and blew out a long, shaky breath. I hadn't known he'd been holding it.

  Knowing how hard he was working to stay in control and give me time to adjust was somehow the hottest thing about this steamy hot night. I waited until he opened his eyes again so that I could watch him, too. Then I wrapped my arms around his back, hooked my hands over his shoulders, and flexed my legs to pull my hips up hard and fast against his, forcefully deepening the penetration even more.

  "Jesus Christ!" He said in a sudden burst of held breath and then began to move inside me. I caught his tempo and surged against him rhythmically, intensifying our connection. Our mouths came together, our tongues moving in the same rhythm. I could feel another orgasm building, and I tilted my hips to get him still deeper. Jake broke our kiss with a grunt and dropped his head to my shoulder.

  I was getting close again and vaguely heard myself making some kind of keening sound over and over. Suddenly, without breaking our connection or even our tempo, Jake pushed himself up on his hands. He leaned on his left hand and brought his right to press on the back of my left thigh. He stopped thrusting while he was deep inside and held me still while he got his knees under him a little and brought his left hand to the back of my right thigh.

  He had me spread wide, my knees up outside my shoulders. Thank God for yoga. He'd also taken control again; I couldn't move. I couldn't even really get my hands on him, so I reached back and grabbed the spindles on my headboard. When he started to move again, he pumped into me slowly twice, and then picked up the pace with every thrust until he was slamming into me, each thrust seeming deeper than the one before.

  My orgasm was cresting huge, and I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Fuck! Oh my God! Harder, Jake. I want to feel you come inside me."

  "That's it, babe. That's it. Jesus." I could hear the strain in his voice. He was barely holding on.

  Fuck this; I needed to move. I used all of the considerable strength in my legs to push his hands back and bring my legs down. His hands hit the mattress, and I wrapped myself around him again. Finally freed and almost hanging from him, I bucked against his thrusts as hard and fast as I could until I came so hard I could see tiny black spots as I trembled all over.

  My writhing set him off, too. He sounded an incoherent yell and grabbed my butt with one hand to pound into me for several final, deep thrusts. I felt an explosion of warmth from inside me as he filled me with him. When he finished, he dropped his full weight down and rested his forehead on mine. We lay there a long time, still connected and wringing wet, shaking. Breathing hard together.

  I loved the feel of his whole weight pressing me down–he was so heavy–but eventually I was going to need to get at least one lungful of air. I squirmed just slightly, hoping that was all I'd have to do. It was. He sighed, kissed the tip of my nose, and rolled to the side, his still-hard cock sliding out of me.

  Where my heart was, I didn’t know–or I did, and I was refusing to acknowledge it. But I could feel its pounding thump-thump-thump keeping pace with his, like a kind of dance between hearts. It kept pace with the boiling-over-melting feeling as I gasped and he pulled me with him as he lay on his back, nesting me against his side with his arm loosely draped over my shoulder, and we breathed in tandem. He kissed the top of my head.

  "So, that was..."

  "Astonishing," I finished and kissed his smooth, hard chest. "I feel quite thoroughly… fucked."

  He laughed and squeezed me closer. "That about sums me up."

  I sighed contentedly and traced my fingers in patterns over his chiseled abs. "You’re gonna have to buy me a walking aid for work tomorrow, of course, but I couldn’t care less about that right now."

  He was quiet for a minute or two after he laughed. I thought maybe he was going to sleep, so I closed my eyes. But then he spoke up. "Dakota... what is it you actually do?"

  I heard the question but didn't really want to answer it, so I just mumbled, "I go around garages to screw mechanics."

  He laughed as he continued, "For work, babe. What do you do for work?"

  I sighed and propped myself on an elbow so I could see his stunning face. "I'm a teacher."

  "At the university?"

  Well, that was weird. Unsettlingly so. "How do you
know that?"

  "I saw the parking tag hanging on your rearview. It's a faculty and staff pass. What do you teach?"

  I didn’t want him to know. I looked away. "Archaeology and Ancient Egypt."

  He didn’t say anything for a short while. "You're a professor?"

  Here we go… "Not yet, but I will be at some point in the near future.”

  "So, what… you have a P.H.D.? You're Dr. Demonte?"

  "One day, yeah."

  "That's awesome. I'm impressed. Why would you be ashamed of that?"

  I sat up. "I'm not ashamed of it. At all. I work my ass off. It’s hard. I'm proud of it. But I don't like people I don't work with to know."

  Jake sat up too, and leaned against the headboard. "Why the hell not?"

  How could I explain this? "Because of what you're already doing. Being all impressed. It always changes the way people away from work behave around me. Now you're going to think I'm smarter than you, but I'm not; I just have an education and a set of skills. Or that I'm secretly judging the way you think or talk. If I were, I wouldn't want to be around you."

  I met his eyes. "I don't want you to act differently around me. I don't want you to think differently about me because now you know that what I do makes me an 'intellectual.'" I made air quotes. I really was a tool sometimes.

  “I don’t.” He pulled me against him and held me close. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really seem like the professor type. Or talk like one. Not the way I think of them, anyway. You swear a lot." He laughed.

  "Well, most of 'em are tweedy, boring, pretentious assholes. That's why I dislike them."

  "By the way, your smarts are obvious, but I'm not so sure you're smarter than me. And you're not so special, anyway. Dixon, Fire Bird’s vice–my best friend–his girlfriend is a surgeon in training. You know, a real doctor. So don't get cocky."

  I laughed at that. "Good. I won't."

  I hadn't missed how he'd hit the word ‘his’.