Bad Boys Teaser: A Sizzling Bad Boys Anthology

by Rie Warren

  And dammmn, Peyton looked good in my bedroom when she spun to face me. “This is your room?”

  “Mmm.” My gaze lingered on her body and that goddamn bikini-thing.

  “What about you?” she asked, strolling closer.

  “Are you inviting me to join you in the shower?” Because if so I was in danger of shredding my shorts with my rapidly hardening cock.

  “Maybe.” She blushed deliciously.

  Drawing her straight against me, I brushed a light kiss over her smooth, slightly salty lips. “Trust me, darlin’. If my mom and Liv weren’t here I’d have us both stripped down and you soaking wet in ten seconds flat.”

  Her fingertips made small circles through the black hair on my chest, and I cursed quietly. “Who says you haven’t already made me wet?”

  I barely refrained from mauling her. She had to feel the solid bar of my cock hot and throbbing and pressing against her belly.

  “I’d love to find out.” My palms skimmed to her hips, but she pulled back an inch.

  Her cheeks flushed even more. “I suppose this happens a lot.”

  “What?”

  Her bare feet overlapping, she shrugged. “Having women over. And I don’t mean your mom and Liv.”

  I tilted her chin beneath my knuckles, lifting her eyes to mine. “Peyton Fox, you’re the first woman who’s ever been in this bedroom. I swear.”

  She whimpered once then I crushed her against me. The floodgates opened and our lips slid together. She gripped the back of my neck. I hauled her up and wrapped her legs around my waist. Our hot tongues tangled, tasted. And I was so close to slamming her against the wall. Her grinding hips were making me crazy.

  When she started nibbling my neck with her soft moist mouth I had to break away before I ripped her suit off and tackled her to the floor.

  Fuck me. Her nipples were making peaks in the material of that sexy blue suit, so hard I could think of nothing but sucking them.

  “Rafe.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re staring at my boobs.”

  I stared some more. Mighta drooled, too. “Because I want them in my mouth.”

  When she started untying the string behind her neck, I pivoted away. “Fuck. Don’t test me, Pey.”

  I heard the wet slap of her suit hitting the floor, and it took the last shred of my willpower to keep my eyes glued straight ahead. Struggling to breathe deeply enough for air to actually inflate my lungs, I stood like a wooden soldier. A very stiff wooden soldier.

  And when I felt her bare tits—warm from the sun—brush against my back, I jerked forward as if burned.

  “Now I gotta go cool down before I do something everyone will hear.” I rushed out of the room, her smoky laughter following me all the way.

  Hurrying downstairs, I stripped off and dove into the outside shower, hitting that shit on straight-up ice cold. No joy. Even the icy prickles of water couldn’t deflate my cock.

  Stupid fucking appendage.

  I stood under that damn water for minutes, hands braced against the wall, breathing like Akoni had just tackled me to the ground.

  Thoughts of Akoni—the big sensitive Hawaiian—proved to be excellent anti-boner material.

  Thank fuck for that.

  After drying off, getting dressed, and combing my fingers through my hair, I arrived in the kitchen at the same time as Peyton.

  Her hair swung down around her shoulders, still damp. She wasn’t wearing any makeup except maybe some lip-gloss, and she was even more stunning au naturel. In a soft patterned sundress that floated around her delicious curves, she had me drooling all over again. And in a perpetual state of horniness.

  Think of Akoni. Think of Akoni doing the haka naked . . .

  Ew.

  Probably didn’t need to go that far.

  “May I help?” she asked, acting the perfect lady, not the sexy vixen who’d nearly had me blowing my wad without even touching me mere minutes earlier.

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  She lifted her hand in a little wave.

  “Not at all, honey. That’s what we have Rafe for.” My mom smiled in Peyton’s direction while I switched my glare to Ma. “You’re a guest.”

  By the time we all settled down at the table on the deck—the glow from the sunset turning the Atlantic into a shimmering pink and orange seascape—I was just about ready to ask Peyton to marry me.

  Specifically so we could skip straight to the honeymoon, of course.

  Riiiiiight.

  We all dug in, Peyton exclaiming after her first mouthful of food, “This is delicious.”

  “Thank you.” I was just damn glad she wasn’t a vegetarian after all.

  Then Ma kicked me under the table.

  And I mumbled, “My mom made the potato salad.”

  “I made the green salad,” Liv chimed in.

  The conversation carried on during the meal, but I only heard the sound of Peyton’s musical voice as she chatted with my mom and Liv.

  She was vibrant, lively. Witty and drop-dead gorgeous. I couldn’t stop sneaking glimpses at her, and I damn near forgot to eat.

  I’d piped the tunes from the iPod outside, and picking up on the latest—“How Sweet It Is”—by Marvin Gaye, Peyton said, “Oh. This was one of my dad’s favorites.”

  “My mom digs the Motown classics.” I smiled at Peyton, hoping the memory of her father was a good one.

  Thinking maybe I could add to it.

  I rose to my feet and offered her my hand. “Care to dance, milady?”

  “I do believe my dance card is open.”

  With our bodies brushing together, and Peyton completely inside the circle of my arms, we moved slowly around the deck. Dancing around the table and gliding toward the fire pit, I was fully aware of our captive audience. Even Liv stopped talking long enough to stare while the music floated over us and Peyton linked her hands behind my neck.

  “This is nice,” she murmured. “I like it.”

  I tilted my head, barely touching her soft ear with my lips. “What else do you like?”

  Her breath shuddered, and I felt her little exhales on the skin of my throat before she answered. “Pretty sure you know.”

  When the song ended, I escorted Peyton back to the table. Ma and Liv clapped wildly before Ma pushed back her chair.

  “You wanna go around the dancefloor too?” I held my hand out to her.

  “Save that for your young lady.” She winked. “I was thinking Liv and I should hit the road.”

  “Tonight? You’re not supposed to leave until the morning.”

  “It’s only a couple of hours.”

  “Moooom!” Liv pouted.

  “Ma.” I frowned at her. “You know I don’t like you driving at night.”

  Shut up, asshole. Alone time with Peyton.

  Fifteen

  The Quarterback’s Sack

  Peyton

  DAMN RAFE AND HIS concern for his mom, which made my heart—yup—flip-flop.

  And damn him for his gorgeous ass. And those board shorts.

  Not to mention the white linen shirt half buttoned, the deeply muscled chest, the bare feet, the faded jeans . . .

  The family man I’d hung out with today was not the pussy hound I expected. Not the guy I thought I’d caught in the act with Kelley-Anne the Cheerleader.

  “Who said anything about night drivin’? It’s evening.” Gracie reached up to ruffle Rafe’s black hair. “And as for you, young lady—” She leaned over and whispered quickly in Liv’s ear.

  Liv’s eyes popped wide, but her mouth clamped shut.

  The Family Macintyre was proving to be very entertaining indeed.

  Watching Rafe tromp up and down the stairs then outside to pack the car, I said my goodbyes, a guilty tug to my heart.

  “Peyton, it was purely a pleasure to meet you, hon.” Rafe’s mom hugged me and bussed both my cheeks. “Now, that boy of mine works hard, but he probably doesn’t play as hard as you might think.” />
  She patted my shoulder before walking outside.

  “You’re such a baller chick, Miss Peyton.” Liv’s shout from right beside me nearly burst my ear drum. “Be nice to my bro, and make sure he honors the swear jar.”

  Swear jar?

  Following Liv outside, I stood on the upper deck, looking down at the family scene with new admiration for Rafe swelling my heart.

  He met his mom at her car after slamming the trunk closed.

  “I like her.” Her words drifted up to me. “A lot. And a redhead too. She’s got moxie. Don’t fu—don’t mess it up, Mister.”

  “I don’t intend to, Ma.” He turned to Liv and grabbed her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t forget to practice your throws.”

  “I’ve got football camp this week so I’m all over that.”

  “Fu—frigging right you do.” He helped her into the Toyota before turning one last time to his mom.

  “I gassed up your car this morning. Checked the oil too.” He kissed her then handed her in and shut the door.

  Then he rapped on her window until she rolled it down. “And get Liv to text me on the road, hear me?”

  Goddamn it. I almost teared up, watching him watch his mom drive off like a big guard dog.

  Retreating inside the house, I navigated to the kitchen and opened the white pastry box I’d brought. I knew I should probably cut out of here, too—do the smart thing—but Phil had Cal for the night so I was free for the moment. Callum. Damn. I’d barely been able to keep his car seat hidden from Rafe when I arrived. This whatever between Rafe and me was such a bad idea, but I was helpless to stop the attraction anymore.

  Setting the fresh-made, frosted-high cupcakes on a plate, I was just licking icing off my fingertips when Rafe came up behind me.

  He didn’t touch me, but the contact was close enough I felt the heat rolling off his body. His mere presence sent shivers down my spine.

  When he peeked over my shoulder, his breath against my neck made my body feel all hot and swollen.

  “Not sure that’s kosher with my dietary guidelines.” His voice rumbled.

  “Please.” I sidled from the press of his body before I choked on my own breath. “Like you’ve got an ounce of fat you need to worry about.”

  “You been studying my form, Mizz Fox?” Smoldering forest green eyes dipped to mine.

  “It is inside my professional purview.” Sinking a fingertip into one frosted top, I brought the rich chocolate to my mouth, marveling at the luxurious dark taste. “Besides, I’m sure we can find a way to work off the excess calories.”

  His eyes darkened even more. “Bring it.”

  Danger. I was courting it.

  “You want some of this?” I dragged my finger back through the chocolate icing.

  His hand snapped out and he snatched my wrist. My heart stuttered in my chest when he took my finger between his firm lips. My pussy fluttered when his mouth closed, his tongue slowly licked, and he groaned around my flesh between his lips.

  Releasing my finger with a last lap, he kissed my palm. “Not sure what tastes better. You or the frosting.”

  I reached for one of the cupcakes and took a large bite. Licking the gooey crumbs off my lips, I held the remainder out to him, and—unbelievably—he demolished the rest in two huge bites.

  “Want more?” I asked, delicately licking my fingertips.

  His breath seemed to halt before becoming fast and ragged. “Nope.”

  “I like your house.”

  “I like you,” he said.

  I could tell he purposefully refrained from touching me. From kissing me. From dragging me against him.

  His muscles tensed until he blew out a long breath. “You wanna go for a walk on the beach?”

  “Not really, no.”

  His face suddenly sharpened with a hungry look that made my thighs clench, my sex throb.

  “What do you want?” Rafe’s deep husky timbre drew a tingling line from my nipples to my pussy.

  Being with him tonight could be the second biggest mistake of my life, but I was tired of playing by the rules.

  Besides . . . his bedroom eyes.

  Should be criminal.

  “You,” I answered.

  Rafe’s head cranked back. His hands balled at his sides. He swallowed deeply before lowering his head again. The next thing I knew, he swept me up into his arms and started stalking at a fast clip through the house.

  Curling my arms around his neck, I laughed as a giddy feeling bubbled inside me.

  Some of it nervousness. My belly full of butterflies.

  Some of it the fear of going down the wrong path again.

  Most if it that instant of falling with no safety net. Pure reckless need rolling through me like an addictive drug.

  He hustled up the stairs like I weighed no more than his perpetual football. One large hand grasped my shoulder, the other my hip, and his lips found the tender, sensitive flesh of my earlobe. Sliding into the bedroom, he crossed the floor, holding me securely in his arms.

  All other thoughts fled as soon as Rafe slowly slid me to my feet next to his bed.

  “You sure ’bout this, Pey?” Stark seriousness etched his features.

  Running my hands along his waist and onto his ass, I coiled against him. “Yes, Rafe. I want you.” My words whispered across his mouth until he pressed my lips open with a deep lunge of his tongue.

  Intense and sudden, the force between us was a clawing, powerful need. I tugged his shirt open, dragging it from his rippling shoulders.

  Drawing my mouth from his, I ran my tongue along his jaw where soft black stubble tickled me.

  He sucked in on an inhale, swore on the exhale.

  His hands fell to the straps of my dress. And he wasn’t gentle when he yanked the light silk down to my hips. This fucking would be fast and rough, just like Rafe.

  He grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my face away from his strong neck.

  Gasping and whimpering, I stood shuddering before him.

  His gaze roved from my lips to my breasts in the lacy white bra.

  I watched him gulp, one rough finger sliding from the center of my collarbone down through my cleavage.

  Arching against him, needing more, I offered myself to him.

  His jaw clenched. His eyes lifted to mine.

  “Take it off.” His voice thundered low.

  My fingers fumbled at the clasp of the strapless lacy confection, and finally, the cups released. I dropped the bra to the floor.

  Rafe licked his lips. His hands rose, and when he settled those big palms beneath my breasts, I tossed my head back with a moan.

  His thumbs slipped up, circling my peaked nipples in a slow hot tease. My hips rotated, and I wished his body was against me so I could grind on something hard, on something him.

  When his lips lowered to taste—just a lick—one nipple, I crushed his hair in my hands. He sucked more deeply from the other one, taking the tight bright nub with hard suction, circling my tit with his entire hand.

  My breasts felt engorged, heavy, and that hot heaviness flowed in a direct arrow to my pussy. My entire body burned for him, and every nip, every suck, each long rough lick made my hips seek contact.

  Pulling back suddenly, Rafe’s face was one slash of sheer need. “Take all of it off. Now.”

  The dress, halted at my hips, fell to the floor with a shimmy and a tug. Left in nothing but a lacy white thong, I ran my finger along the thin satin band at my hips.

  “Stop,” he ordered.

  I followed the hot command, the tight triangle of material lowered to just above my mound.

  “This is for me.” Stepping forward, he let his lightly haired chest brush my breasts.

  His words sent lava flowing through my veins.

  With another harsh grip of my loose hair in his fist, he slanted my head. His mouth hovered above mine for a painful, pining instant, then he struck out with a kiss so deep, so all-consuming, so mind-bl
owing I met his darting tongue, dragged my hands down his back to his firm ass.

  Lifting his head, Rafe took a pace back. He ran a sole finger along the top of my thong all the way from my front over my hip and around my back as he circled me. He stopped behind me, and shallow breaths cut in and out of my chest.

  His warm palm settled at the base of my spine. He whistled long and low, and his fingers slid into the strings of the thong, tightening the material against my pussy and along my ass.

  My heart beat frantically in my chest, and as my clit rubbed against the fabric I hissed in need.

  With two quick, forceful yanks, he tore the thong from my body. I cried out as soon as he palmed my ass. I hissed again when his finger tracked the inked design that traced up from the dip in my spine and along the back of my waist. A winding, slinky snake, all black ink. My only tat.

  “Didn’t get to fully appreciate this earlier.” His finger whispered back along the snake. “I think I like it.”

  Before I could even focus, Rafe’s hot mouth replaced his teasing fingers, and his tongue trailed along the delicate design then lower, lower. His hands massaged my backside, his mouth sucked, his teeth nibbled. He hit erogenous zones I didn’t even know I possessed, and pretty soon I wasn’t even going to remember the meaning of that word because his tongue-work was bending my mind in two.

  “Didn’t take you for an ass man.” I gasped as heat ignited everywhere he touched.

  “Ass man.” He stood to swat my ass with a stinging, sexy smack. “Leg man.” Rafe circled to face me, and his thumbs skimmed up my inner thighs. “Breast man.” Leaning down, he engulfed one rosy bud, pushing it against the roof of his mouth as his tongue lapped the aureole.

  When he lifted his head, his greedy half smile was full of unslaked need. “Definitely all man for this pussy.”

  He palmed me quickly, sank one finger into my cunt effortlessly, had me on the verge of orgasm in an instant.

  “Ahhhh.” I clutched at his shoulders, my body trembling.

  He pulled his hand back, and I almost lost my footing when he rubbed the wet, shiny finger against his mouth.

  “Jesus. You are beautiful.” The tense muscles of his forearms flexed like a sexy male sculpture, and my body reacted to his words.