Interview with the Bad Boy

by Rylee Swann

  Something about making a decision like that makes me feel like I’m finally moving forward. That everything will be fine and will go back to how it was before I was assigned this stupid story.

  Maybe I should get fixed up for the interview. Makeup, professional clothes, the works, but I know where that will lead. The very thought of it makes my pulse jump and heat rise to my cheeks. No, I won’t do that. Instead, I decide to wear jeans and an oversized college sweatshirt. I pull my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and wash my face. Just a little lip gloss and that’s only because my lips are chapped. Cool weather always makes them dry. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  It would’ve makes sense to call first, but I know that if I hear his voice, I might chicken out. Or worse yet, he won’t answer, or he’ll tell me he’s busy. I’d rather just drive over there and risk getting rejected in person. And besides, maybe I’ll catch him off guard, and we can both get this over with. The only comfort I have in this situation is that it will all be over soon.

  I get there just a little after dark, thinking he should be out of practice by then. I can see that all the lights are on at Cole’s house, so I assume he’s home. I head to the front door and pause. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe I can just email him a list of questions. I can just skip the in-person bit. Rob doesn’t have to know what happened between Cole and me.

  My hand curls into a fist and hovers inches from his door. What if he tells? What if he tells his friends and word gets back to Rob? It will utterly ruin my integrity. That does it. That steels my resolve. I knock. And wait. And knock again.

  Cole opens the door, looking haggard with bloodshot blue eyes, reeking of cheap beer. His eyes devour me and all hope of remaining professional flees. I take a step back reflexively. Not because I’m scared of him. No. I’m scared of myself, and my inability to maintain control.

  At first, I think he looks angry. That same rage I saw the day we met. As I stand there, I watch it drain away, and he sighs, running a hand through his shaggy, messy hair. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt and somehow manages to make that look sexy. He doesn’t greet me. Doesn’t say hello. He just opens the door and heads back inside.

  I only hesitate a moment in the chilly evening air before I step in, shutting the door behind me. His place is still a filthy mess, and I can’t help but think it needs a woman’s touch. Of course, I tell myself, not my touch. I’m not anyone’s maid.

  It just strikes me as incredibly sad. I don’t know what about him I find so sad, but there it, staring me in the face. My aunt always said that one’s surroundings mirrors what is going on in their head. Even as I think that about Cole’s little house, I think the same about my apartment. I wonder what it says about me? That I’m empty inside? Cold? I feel a little sad then, standing amid the wreckage of Cole’s life.

  He flops down on the couch and eyes me almost like I’m a tornado that has set down in his living room. I’ve never seen him look at me that way. I don’t know quite what to make of it.

  “Hey,” I say, feeling uncomfortable. “I thought, um… I can help?”

  He quirks a brow at me.

  “You know, with your school work?”

  The embarrassment is back. The glimpse of shame. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

  He doesn’t move to get any of his books, so I sit on the couch too. Sitting next to him, I just want to lay on his chest. I don’t know why. I feel more alone in his company right then than I did before coming over.

  “So,” I begin awkwardly. “What subjects are you having trouble with?”

  He shrugs, not looking at me. He pops open another beer, and I frown. “All of them, I guess. I’m a dumb ass. Always have been. Always have shitty grades.”

  Cole strikes me as a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them. He has a bright cleverness in his gaze, the type of intelligence that can’t be taught, like a sharp, night time predator. “You’re not stupid,” I say.

  He seems genuinely surprised and laughs a little, though it isn’t a nice laugh, more of a dismissive snort. “You don’t have to kiss my ass.”

  I roll my eyes. “Maybe you’re used to that. But I don’t do that. I don’t kiss anyone’s ass. Look,” I say, leaning forward, forearms on my knees, hands clasped. “I can just tell when people are stupid. Ya know? I wouldn’t want to interview you if I thought that. I don’t really care what anyone else says about you, but you’re not stupid. A jerk? Sure. Full of yourself? Absolutely. But not stupid.”

  He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head and then he genuinely laughs. “A jerk, huh?”

  I nod. “Yeah. A real jerk. Fuck you, by the way. For yesterday.”

  All good humor flees his expression. “Yeah, yeah. Get off my back about it.”

  “Off your back? I’m not on your back. I’m just supposed to be okay with that shit? You can fuck me, but you can’t even stay long enough for me to get my clothes on? It’s not like I asked you to cuddle.” My tone has more venom than I intended. It hurts. A lot. I don’t even want to admit to myself how much it hurts and now my eyes sting with tears. I refuse to cry in front of him. I just can’t handle that much humiliation.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. I can tell it’s hard for him.

  We fall into a sort of silence for a while. It isn’t uncomfortable, and for some reason, I feel like we’ve come to some sort of silent agreement. I don’t feel as angry or hurt. He’s a mystery. Under all that rage and callousness, I know he’s someone else. Someone he’s kept hidden from everyone. Even himself. I can sense it. He really is sorry.

  I get up and gather any textbook I see. Eventually, he helps me by getting his book bag and a list of assignments and test schedules. We sort it out, talking very little. He seems to sober up some, which I appreciate. I put a study aid app on his phone, and we make a schedule for me to come over to help him get his shit together.

  When we’re done, I have a beer, and we talk a little, mostly about nothing until I can’t keep it to myself any longer. “Cole, look. I need to ask you not to tell anyone about what… we’ve been doing. You know… the sex.”

  He leans back and narrows his eyes at me. He looks offended. “Yeah? You embarrassed?”

  I shrug. “A little. I’m trying to be professional and do a story about you. I’m crossing a line. If this was a major newspaper, I’d be fired, and my reputation would be ruined.”

  He rolls his eyes and scoffs at me. “It’s not the fucking Times, Becca. Jesus.”

  Why does everyone keep saying that?

  “Yeah, I know that, but it’s a bit more complicated, okay?”

  “Does it dirty your good girl facade?” There is more than a little meanness behind his tone and in his expression. I feel hurt all over again.

  I look away. “No. I don’t care about that. If we’re in a legitimate relationship, things would be different, but you’ve made it pretty clear that something like that won’t happen. Which is fine. Whatever. My ex is the editor of the paper, Cole. And if he catches wind of this, I’m pretty sure he’ll make life as difficult for me as possible.”

  He holds up his hands with a big, lofty sigh. “Yeah, okay. Fine. I won’t say a word.”

  When I look back over at him, he’s giving me a heated look. God, I want him. Even after he’d been a jerk again. I can’t seem to help it. I want him. For the first time, I can really sense a deep sadness in him, and though it isn’t a part of the story, I start asking him questions. “Why are you like this, Cole?” I ask, immediately wishing I hadn’t. It’s too personal. I know I’m taking it too far.

  Naturally, he seems taken aback and scowls. “What the fuck do you mean?” he barks out.

  I sigh and drop my face in my hands before taking a deep breath. I hate when I put my foot in my mouth, but this is a conversation we need to have. “You bite my head off. You want me, but you hate me. I don’t get it.”

  He shakes his head, clearly defensiv
e. “I don’t hate you. Jesus Christ, do you have to be so overly dramatic?”

  “You act like it. You act like I’m putting you out.” My defense mechanisms are up, and I know this is taking a bad turn. I know I should shut up, but I still feel so hurt.

  “Maybe you are, ever think about that? I bet guys do whatever you want. Because you’re the pretty, good girl. Some nice piece of ass to bring home to Mom and Dad. So, they just fucking fall over themselves to please you. I’m not that guy. I don’t buy that bullshit for a minute.”

  I bristle. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  He leans in, getting in my face. I don’t back down. I don’t shrink back into the couch like I want to. “Sure, I do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so mad now. I hit the nail right on the fucking head.”

  I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. “I can tell you’re hurt!” I blurt out. “You seem really sad… that’s why I asked.” I hate how my voice quavers and how my chest gets tight.

  “Sad?” he sputters. “I’m not sad! I’m fed up! Fed up with women like you!”

  I stand, furious now. I knew it would go this way. I’m mad at him and at myself. “You have never met a woman like me. I’m sure you’ve been burned before, but you know what, you’re not the only one, Cole. Your pain isn’t special!”

  He stands too, towering over me. I don’t back down. Once more, I stand my ground. “I get it! I know I’m not special. My dad told me so every fucking day.” His hands shoot out, and he grabs me by the upper arms. At first, I think he’s going to shake me or push me, but he draws me close instead.

  His lips crash against mine. The kiss steals my breath and all my anger. I’m right, of course. He’s hurting. And this is what he needs to make the pain stop. He has been running on fumes, and I’m going to make it all better. As mad as I’ve been, I know I can do this for him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Becca

  Taking charge this time, I take him by the hand and lead him into his bedroom. I hurt too. For many reasons I don’t want to think about. I don’t know if this means we’re heading toward something or not, but I know that we both need the distraction. I’ll never get to those interview questions with my desire for him in the way.

  Placing my hand on the center of his chest, I take pleasure in feeling the muscles twitch under my touch. He feels so good that it’s easy to forget what a bad idea this is. I push him down onto the bed, and he lets me. I have him right where I want him. Flat on his back.

  I straddle him, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. His body is so hot, so chiseled. It’s damn near perfection. I scratch my nails lightly down his chest, watching the little red welts bloom in their wake. He shudders, and I grind against him, showing him how much I want him while feeling how much he wants me already. I love that about him, how fast he gets hard for me. It makes me feels beautiful and desirable.

  He reaches up and touches me, fingers splaying over my stomach. I take off my sweatshirt, and his hands rise higher, cupping my breasts over my bra. I don’t want it to be rough tonight. I need something more intimate. I know it will only complicate things, but at the moment, I just don’t care. It’s too hard to fight it.

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters as his fingers slide up my back. “For being an asshole.”

  I arch my back as he unsnaps my bra and helps me out of it. Now, all I have on are my jeans. Leaning over him, I kiss him, and his hands cup my face. It’s a searing kiss even though it’s tender and sweet. He rolls me onto my back and moves on top of me. So much for me having control in the situation. Yet, it isn’t what I really want. I want him to take over, tell me what to do. I want to feel the burn of that fire again.

  Rob would have passively laid back and let me please him. He never cared about my pleasure. I mentally shake my head, trying to banish thoughts of my ex. I don’t know why I even think about him anymore. I need out of that situation and maybe working at the school paper isn’t the best place for me.

  Before I can think about it any further, Cole makes me forget. He takes my breath away. His lips trail down my neck to my collar bone, then drags his tongue between my breasts and across my belly. He slowly slides the jeans off my legs and moves a leg over his shoulder so that the bend of my knee is near his neck. He spreads me wide.

  I feel open and vulnerable as his gaze devours me, then his lips trace over my hip bones. “I’m going to eat your pussy,” he says, lips moving over my skin as he murmurs the erotic words, his other hand spreading the lips of my sex.

  Cole breathes in deeply before laving his tongue over me, tasting me. Savoring me. He watches my face as he pleasures me and it’s the most erotic experience of my entire life. He goes slowly at first, teasing me, flicking his tongue lightly over the nub of my clit. His free hand presses down on my stomach, keeping me still. I want to buck against his face. I need more friction, but ever the one in control, Cole won’t let me. He controls my pleasure, and somehow, he’s still dominant over me even as he kneels between my legs and drives me crazy with his tongue.

  I whimper and beg, but he still takes his time. He pauses every so often to tell me how good I taste and how hard it makes him, and how much he wants to fuck me.

  “If you’re a good girl and come for me, I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you until you scream.”

  It’s a promise I know he can keep, and one I can’t help but fulfill on my end. Cole seems to know when I’m close. He slows down, his touch a whisper across my skin. Just as I ride the wave of pleasure to the top, he scales it back down, clearly determined to drive me crazy.

  “Please,” I whimper, begging. I can’t keep from it, and I have to admit that I love begging him. “Please let me come.”

  His fingers go from spreading me, to sliding into me. First just one, then two. He pumps them in my aching core while he sucks on my clit, stopping only to flick his tongue over the sensitive little bud. He keeps me firmly pressed to the mattress, and my fists are tangled in the sheets, my body slick with perspiration and arousal.

  He stops, his face slick with my juices to look up at me and whisper just one word, “Come.”

  And I do. I can’t not obey. My orgasm darkens my vision and clamps down around his fingers, which he slowly taps against my g-spot. He withdraws them and laps up my release as though it’s honey. Smiling, he sits back and rolls a condom on, still touching me, teasing me until he appears finally satisfied that he’s tormented me enough.

  Then he’s in me, thrusting deep, taking me in long, hard strokes. One orgasm bleeds into another, and I scream. Scream his name. Scream for more. He silences me when his tongue slips past my lips to tangle and dance with mine. His hand covers a breast, and he toys with my nipple.

  Cole pinches the tender, sensitive nipple, applying pressure gently and then giving it a sharp, little tug as he pounds his big, thick cock into me. I drench him in my appreciation and pleasure. He abandons our kiss to suckle my tit. At first, he flicks his tongue over my bud and then closes his lips around it. I feel the scrape of his teeth and gasp. It’s only a little nibble, just a tiny bit of pain with my pleasure.

  I want more.

  I want things I have no words or experience to describe. I whisper it, begging. “Please… more.” I can’t express my need, but when he looks into my eyes, I know he knows. He just does.

  Cole slowly withdraws his cock out of me and stands up, appraising me. “Sit up and get on your knees. Hands behind your back.” His word is law in the bedroom. I don’t argue. “Turn your back to me.”

  I do as he says and hear him rummage in his closet, and a few moments later, I feel something cool and smooth envelop my wrists.

  He binds them in leather straps. Tight. I can’t escape if I want to. Not that I want to. I’ve never used any sort of restraint or toy before, but he clearly has and knows what he’s doing. My inexperience paired with his expertise brings me to the point where I tremble in anticipation.

  His broad, rough hands massage
my shoulders as he leans against me. I can feel his dick press against my back, still wet from being inside me. “Open your mouth,” he whispers, his breath hot in my ear.

  Once more, I do as I’m told, unsure of what will happen next. I open wide, and a metal ring slides between my teeth. Leather straps go around my face and fasten at the back of my head. The ring keeps my mouth open.

  “I’m going to fuck that gorgeous face,” he promises in a dark, rough voice. I tremble again, shaking with want and desire, squeezing my thighs together to create the friction I need.

  But that’s not what he does next. He grabs me by the hair and forces my face down on the mattress, my ass high and vulnerable to him. First, he massages the cheeks of my ass before spreading them wide. Something cool and wet drips on my virgin pucker.

  I cry out as his finger enters me, my bound hands unable to grasp what I want. I’m so tight, but he’s slow, gentle. He presses his finger inside me until it pops past the firm ring of muscle and is nestled deep in my ass. He pumps it in and out, almost lazily, until a second finger joins the first. He moves his fingers faster, fucking my ass, stretching it. Getting it ready for something. For what?

  As soon as Cole withdraws his fingers, something wider and smoother replaces it. I know it’s a plug. It’s a slim plug, and I’m already relaxed and ready for it. It slips in remarkably easy.

  “That’s right,” he growls. “Good girl. So hot seeing that plug in your ass.” As he speaks, Cole presses his cock into my dripping pussy again, hands on my hips, yanking me back to hilt me on his dick.

  As he fucks me, my ass filled with the toy, my mouth open and drooling, helpless, he rains sharp slaps on my ass. He fucks me hard, riding me. The room is filled with the sloppy noises of his hips smashing against my flesh. I’m going to come again.

  “Getting so tight and wet,” he grunts, barely able to speak. I know he’s getting off on it too. “You’re going to be a good girl and come all over this dick, aren’t you? You’ll get a treat if you do.”