Saved by the Outlaw: A Bad Boy Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  I can almost feel the floor shaking under the rhythm of the dancers jumping to the DJ, who happened to be one of Brooklyn’s up and comers, if Natalie’s word was good. And it usually is.

  That isn’t the only thing drawing the crowds, though. Some of that extra cash went to advertising, and I made sure not to hold back for tonight. This may as well have been a grand re-opening.

  The bar is barely visible over the sea of people, now well into their drinks, but I can make out the top of Natalie’s head as she, and her new hires we were able to afford, frantically move around the bar. Under her watch, I know I don’t have anything to worry about on that end.

  I feel a genuine smile break past my natural anxiety over the busy evening. I never realized how much that money would help, but it’s been more refreshing than I ever could have hoped. Even if its source does make me a little nervous when I remember it.

  Midnight is approaching, and I’m admittedly a little excited to see how the partiers enjoy the light show. I had to go home to get ready for my appearance tonight, but Natalie stayed behind to rig a few surprises that even I haven’t seen yet.

  Just as I’m thinking about trying to wade across the crowd to get to a drink, Ashton bustles up the stage, delivering a few martinis to the VIPs and winking at me.

  “So, you pick out your New Year’s special for tonight yet?”

  I give her a chiding smile. “Oh, I’m sure something will come along, just stay focused on raking in the tips for now.”

  “Laaaame,” she says, scooting closer to me and leaning in so she doesn’t have to shout the conversation. “You know, there’s a truckload of models here tonight, and I just know a few of them are looking your way. Do you even know how gorgeous you look? You KNOW dozens of guys out there want to be the power couple with you tonight.”

  She grins and I roll my eyes, but as I open my mouth to reply, I notice my cell phone light up in my purse, and I pull it out.

  It’s a text from Ivan.

  “VIP lounge.”

  I look at the message for a few moments blankly before it clicks, and my eyebrows go up.

  “Whassit say?” Ashton chirps as she sticks her head over my shoulder curiously, and I hide the cell phone against my chest.

  “None of your business, that’s what!” I tease. She makes a pouty face that I imitate, and she cracks up before waving a hand.

  “Alright, alright, just don’t let business be the first thing on your mind when midnight rolls around!” She disappears into the crowd, and I breathe a sigh of relief and look at the text again.

  Casting a glance around at the crowd one last time, I discretely make my way to the VIP lounge.

  My heels click through the illuminated hallway as I make my way to the lounge. It’s not as grandiose as the main floor is, but it’s a comfortable, reserved atmosphere. I’d assumed a private party had rented out the place in advance, so the lights were kept dim enough for an easy, familiar atmosphere.

  Suddenly, I start to worry. What if Ivan had wanted the VIP room to himself? What if he’s in there right now, arguing with the patrons that already paid for it? My footsteps quicken as I round the corner, by now expecting to see a full-blown fight happening at the end of the hall…

  ...but as softened music from the DJ played through the speakers reaches my ears, I see only Ivan sitting in the lounge facing the hallway, setting up a couple of fluted glasses next to a champagne bottle and setting them on the floor beside the couch.

  He looks up as his ears pick up my footsteps, and that easy smile crosses his face again.

  “You’re quicker than I expected,” he remarks, standing to his feet.

  “I…”

  I have no idea how he slipped past me without my noticing. He’s wearing a slim-cut suit as deep and stormy blue as his eyes, with a tie as black as the ceiling in the lounge. He strikes a starkly contrasting image to the orange room, yet he complements it like the centerpiece of the whole place.

  “Ivan, I had no idea you were—”

  He puts a finger to his lips, stepping forward slowly as his eyes take me in. I obey, letting my purse slip into a chair as he comes close to me with hungry eyes.

  “You’re more beautiful than the day I first laid eyes on you,” he says, putting his hand on my arm and letting it run down its length. He takes my hand and gives a slight nod to the couch, leading me there with a gentle tug

  "This is a new outfit," he points out.

  "I've had a little extra spending money," I say back with a shy smile, and he guides me to sit down on the couch across from him. "I didn't know if I'd hear from you today, but—”

  I'm quieted as he lifts my bare leg into his lap, running a warm hand up my thigh while his other hand unfastens the clasp of my shoe, letting it clatter to the ground.

  "Did you think I'd let you say goodbye to this cold year alone?" he says in a low tone as he does the same to my other foot.

  "Whatever you please," I say, my voice steady but my heart pounding.

  Ivan tilts his head to the side. "You're uneasy, I can tell."

  "Not because of you," I'm quick to backpedal, "these past couple months have been...absolutely unheard-of for business, I had no idea this place had so much potential to—”

  "Katy," he hushes me with his voice, powerful hands massaging my tense calves, "Katy, listen to yourself. I don't have to touch you to know you're wound-up."

  I lower my eyes bashfully, but he leans across the couch, turning my chin back up to meet his gaze, to which I obey.

  "I want to make this evening something special. Soon, it will be a new year. I will see to it that you'll want to remember this one more than the last," he says, reaching a hand into his coat.

  He withdraws a black silk blindfold.

  My heart flutters, and I realize I'm instinctively biting my lip.

  "I think this might help block out some of the distracting annoyances, no?" He stands up, leaving me draped over the couch, eyes even on him as he moves behind me and lowers the blindfold.

  "All you need to do is take it off, if you wish, or tell me to do so. I won't refuse you." A smile spreads across his face again. "It would be no loss for me to see those beautiful doe eyes again."

  That smile is the last thing I see before the cloth darkens my world.

  My hands grip the edges of the couch in anticipation as I hear the sounds of his clothes coming off. I have no idea what he has in mind, and with my eyes shrouded in cloth, I'm entirely subject to his direction.

  Strong hands feel up my sides and at his guidance, I wiggle out of my dress as he slips it off my shoulders, leaving me exposed on the couch before him. I can feel a flush in my face, and I bite my lip. I've never brought this kind of action to work. Ever.

  Hell, I've never even changed clothes at the bar, and now I'm lying on a couch in nothing but the lacy underwear I put on this morning. I'm totally exposed, and my heart flutters at the thought that anyone could walk into the private lounge and see us like this — I didn't lock the door behind me, I was in such a rush to get to Ivan.

  "You're still nervous," I hear Ivan's voice say as he guides my hands to rest up above my head, his other hand slipping around the back of my neck. My mouth parts, but I suddenly realize my body is too excited to compose a response.

  "Let me help you relax," his rumbling voice orders, and I feel his mouth at my neck. I try to recoil from the feeling, but I feel his grip on my wrists tighten, holding me in his power with a single hand while the one on my neck teases me to expose more, let more of myself open before him as he sucks at the sensitive skin.

  Then his hand slips down my neck and to my back, where I feel my bra being unhooked. Ivan tosses the fabric aside, then slips my panties off me with the same dexterity.

  He backs off a moment, but I can feel his gaze bearing down on me. I'm strewn out over the couch, now totally naked save for the black cloth over my head, and I realize my heart is pounding its way out of my chest.

  "What are
you going to do to me?" I breathe.

  "Making you mine," comes the response from the figure looming over me.

  He rips my thighs apart forcefully, holding them up and opening my cunt before him like prey. I expect the feeling of his cock ramming into me, but I let out a yelp as the feeling of a tongue stroking my lips sends electricity through my body.

  I can hear his moaning from below as he tastes me, the powerful muscle stroking my labia and making its way towards what it really desires, what it’s searching for as though it was trained to seek it out.

  The strokes of his tongue make me want to recoil at first, to hide from such sensations that I haven't felt in so long, but the more I wriggle, the stronger I realize his grip is on me. He can do whatever he wants with me.

  I let out a sharp, short cry when the tongue brushes my clit.

  Like a hunter, he dives in and attacks relentlessly, tormenting my sensitive nub with short, powerful lashes that send warmth through my body.

  It isn't a sensation I could get by masturbating, I realize. He's so irreverent of the restraints I put on myself, as though he knows just the right motions to send me spiraling toward orgasm when I'm ready to push myself over that crest, but he has none of the hesitation that forces me to draw it out longer.

  It isn't long before I feel myself getting wet by my own accord, and my breathing gives away how close I am to coming. This is all happening so fast, and in such an exposed place, that my body utterly surrenders itself to Ivan's whims. I can't help but be obedient to him.

  "Just a little more, just like that," I beg him, and as soon as I do, I feel my thighs drop and his tongue retreat. My heart skips a beat, thinking I've done something wrong, and I almost want to lift the blindfold, but Ivan's fingers are already gripping my chin. His hot breath washes over my face as he speaks in a low, growling tone.

  "You will come when I allow it, moya zvezda."

  His lips press against mine, his tongue invading my mouth and making me taste my own honey. I press my body up into him, my hands starting to wrap around his sides and feel his bare skin, but he presses me back down and begins to suck on my exposed nipples, pinning my arms up against the arm of the couch as he does.

  Every part of me is electrified with sensation, and my body is dizzy with the stimulation.

  He wants that.

  "Please," I beg him, "please, Ivan, I want you to fill me so badly, I'll do anything."

  "Yes, you will," he states, and before I can react, he's gripping me by the hips and hoisting me up. The next moment, my hands and knees are being pressed upon on the surface of the coffee table in the middle of the room.

  I know what's about to happen, and as I brace myself on the hard surface, it dawns on me that he didn't set the drinks on the table when I walked in. He planned on this, on using me. I hear the tearing of a condom wrapper from behind me.

  A cry escapes my lips as his hard, condom-covered cock slides into me from behind, and almost instantaneously I want to collapse on the table, barely able to hold myself up with my hands.

  He starts to pull me further onto him, rocking back and forth until my pussy envelops his cock entirely, tight and absolutely wet.

  My knees are already starting to hurt as he begins to pound into me mercilessly. I feel something on my hair, and my head is tugged back as he grips it like a leash.

  He's blocked out my vision, put me on a hard surface, and now he's holding onto my hair, putting me all the more under his power, but God, the way his cock is hitting the inside of my needy cunt makes me want to open myself all the more to him, to arch my back and shove myself onto him more.

  "God, oh God," I gasp as the bulging crown within rams the inner walls of my womanhood, "Ivan, please...!" I can't even articulate my plea, but there's no denial in my voice: I want what he's giving me. I need it.

  Ivan is silent, bucking harder and faster into me. I can hear some kind of commotion loud enough to penetrate into the VIP lounge, and suddenly my heart turns over. Is someone coming in? Now, of all times? No!

  "Is — ah! Is someone coming?!" I hiss, but Ivan tightens his grip on my hair by way of silencing me.

  "Come," he commands simply through his fast-paced bucking and grunts, and warmth fills my body as the excitement starts to become too much to bear. The feeling of restraint, the thought of random passers-by barging in, my needy cunt being denied what I so badly desire, I can't bear it any longer as the noise from the crowd outside becomes louder and louder.

  A harsh groan bursts from Ivan as he comes, filling up the condom inside of me with hard pulses, and his wild thrusts send me toppling over my own orgasm, my arms buckling and letting my face press against the hard wood surface, mouth gaping and eyes clenching beneath the cloth as my whole body shakes.

  Ivan is still hard and merciless. Even as jets of his seed fill up the rubber inside me, he torments my wildly ecstatic body, disorienting me with the sensation as I melt into a shaking pile of pleasure on the table, my knees slumping to the side as he withdraws his cock at last.

  Finally, I'm able to make out the sounds from outside.

  "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

  Ivan had made us come into the New Year.

  As the cheering and music outside resumes, I hear Ivan's footsteps moving around the room, and I nearly have a heart attack when a loud POP makes me withdraw my limbs again, even as my fluids mar my table. I feel a hand taking off the blindfold and turn my helpless body over on the table.

  My eyes adjust to see Ivan, smiling and shirtless, looking down at me affectionately with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two crystal glasses in the other.

  He sets the glasses down and pours the liquid, then pulls the couch up closer to the table where I'm sprawled. Still regaining my senses, I feel his strong arms lift me up as though I were made of paper, carrying me over to the couch as he sits down with me in his lap.

  I blink blearily, a smile crossing my face as I wrap my arms around his neck and let myself hang there, utterly fucked silly. His warm arms are wrapped around me, comforting my naked body as it tries to come down from the high of the orgasm.

  I smell champagne as he brings a glass close to me, stroking my back with the other, and his mouth comes close to my ear.

  "Happy New Year, Katy."

  10

  Katy

  It’s surprisingly chilly when I wake up on Valentine’s Day. There’s frost on the windows lining the wall of my apartment, and my toes are almost numb. Shivering, I draw up my legs and slide out of bed, finding a pair of slippers and a fuzzy robe to wrap myself in. I look at the clock to see that it’s just after ten o'clock in the morning. I’ll have to start getting ready for work soon.

  But first, I need my coffee.

  I shuffle into the kitchen, yawning as I start the coffee maker and slump back against the counter. I squint across the room out the window and stare long enough to notice tiny, delicate snowflakes drifting downward. It’s been unseasonably warm and rainy this winter until now. I ponder what the snowy weather will do for my business. It could keep everyone bundled up inside. Or they might possibly head out to the clubs and bars in droves, looking to warm up with a drink and a hot stranger. I hope it’s the latter — business has been pretty good, but I’m not out of the woods yet. There are still debts my father left me, even if the protection fee from the mafia isn’t an issue anymore.

  Right on cue, my phone lights up with a text. “Natalie, that better not be you calling out of work to take some starry-eyed girl on a Valentine’s date,” I mumble to myself. Blinking in the low light, I read the name on the screen. It’s Ivan.

  As always, at any sight or mention of him, my heart skips a beat. I don’t know what it is, whether it’s nerves or fear or excitement… or something else.

  I slide my phone open to read the text.

  “Good morning. You’re taking the day off.”

  I furrow my brows in confusion. Taking the day off of what? Work? Being a sex slave?

  After a
moment of thought, I reply with just a simple question mark. Almost instantly I get a response from him, and I can’t help but crack a smile.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

  Who would have expected that a gun-toting, heavily-muscled mafia hit man was a sucker for made-up romantic holidays? Stranger things have happened, I remind myself. And besides, he has been surprisingly tender and sweet to me these past few months. The sex is often hard and fast and rough — not that I’m complaining in the least — but in our regular interactions, Ivan is a lot gentler and more sensitive than any guy I dated in the past.

  Not that I’m sure you can call what Ivan and I do dating.

  Just at that moment, my phone goes off again with another text from Ivan, who has written, “You have a date.”

  “Do I?” is my coquettish response. I can’t help but bite my lip and grin down at my phone like an infatuated teenage girl. This is ridiculous.

  “Da, printsessa. I will pick you up at noon.”

  I don’t know Russian, but I’m fairly certain Ivan has just called me princess. Part of me wants to be indignant, tell him off and inform him that I’m nobody’s little princess. But the bigger, more dominant part of me is just flattered. After another minute of staring at my phone with my thumb hovering over the keyboard, I finally sigh and set the phone down on the counter.

  After all, I have a hot date to prepare for.

  Totally neglecting my freshly-made coffee, I all but skip to my bathroom to take a shower. As I shampoo my hair, I imagine the inevitable conversation I will have to have with Natalie and the crew about why I’m not at work today. I can already tell she’s going to give me hell for it. And I can’t really blame her. I was all prepared to bite her head off if she dared ask me for the day off! But, I reason with myself, if she really is dating Ashton, then at least being at work will also allow her to hang out with her girlfriend.