Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel

by Melonie Johnson

  He relaxed his grip, the tight lines around his mouth easing. “No,” he confirmed, following her lead and playing along. “Not there.”

  She pulled her arm back and tapped her chin in speculation. “Hmm…” She let her gaze rove over his body. Thanks to her handiwork, his jeans were undone, belt hanging loose, fly spread wide, the thick swell of his cock pressing against his briefs, tip visible above the band.

  Bo noticed her staring but didn’t move to adjust his clothing. Didn’t cover himself. Like he’d done earlier in the gas station parking lot, he stood still and let her stare. It was another dare.

  Sadie’s mouth went dry, everything wet in her body heading south. With effort, she lifted her gaze to his, forcing her attention to stay focused on his face. “Okay, so where are your other tattoos, then?”

  His grin returned, slow and sexy.

  Holy shit was she in trouble.

  In one smooth motion, Bo grabbed the ends of his shirt and tugged it up and over his head.

  Yep, serious trouble.

  He turned away from her, giving her his back. Which at least made it easier to look at him without her gaze constantly straying to the teasing glimpse of cock on display. And she’d thought his biceps were a magnet for her attention.

  The view from this side wasn’t bad either, though. Soft denim molded over a firm, tight ass. Above the waistband of his jeans, the tapered muscles of his torso expanded gloriously, spreading up to the broad line of his shoulders.

  Sadie stared at the valley running down the middle of his back, the shadow cast between the slopes of his lats and traps. Unlike a lot of guys she saw at the gym, Bo wasn’t bulging with muscle, but rather he was packed with it, defined and delicious. She wanted to taste him, to run her tongue along the groove of his spine.

  Instead, she reached out and traced the shadow with her finger. His body tensed at her touch, sending everything rippling. Sadie enjoyed the show, stroked her palms up over his bare shoulder blades, watching in fascination as the sculpted muscles danced beneath her hands.

  “Aha!” She narrowed her gaze, catching the small circle of ink at the top of his right trapezius. “Found one.” She leaned in, studying the tattoo in the dim light from the one lamp he’d lit. “The moon?”

  He dipped his head, nodding once.

  “For your sister, Luna, right?” she guessed.

  Another nod.

  Warmth spread through her. He had always been fiercely protective of his little sister. The best of big brothers.

  She didn’t have any siblings. Giving birth once had been more than enough for her mother. Sadie had always been jealous of Ana, who had both an older brother and a younger sister. Ana would joke about being the forgotten, unloved middle child, but it was always only that—a joke. Her friend loved her siblings fiercely, a love that was returned just as fiercely. Sadie envied that bond. She and Ana were as close as sisters. Ana would be the first to insist they were sisters. But Sadie knew it would never be quite the same thing.

  Warmth flickered in her heart, flames of love and affection for her best friend. If it hadn’t been for Ana, Sadie wouldn’t be here right now, in Bo’s apartment, perusing his half-naked body. Smiling, she continued her inspection. Another tattoo perched atop Bo’s other shoulder, the same size and similar in design to the moon. “The sun?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Was that a note of wariness in his voice? Maybe he was self-conscious about the tattoo. Did it represent him? The symbolism made sense. If Luna, with her dark as midnight hair, was the moon, that would leave Bo to be the sun. Easy enough to imagine, with his golden-brown hair and eyes.

  Sadie wanted to ask him more about the tattoo, to see if she was right about what it stood for, but before she could, he bent his head and pointed at the nape of his neck.

  “This is the last one.”

  Going up on tiptoe, Sadie peered closer. It was a pair of hearts. One inked with the colors and pattern of the Irish flag, the other with that of the Mexican flag.

  “For your parents.” It was a statement, not a question. She knew his mother was a second-generation Mexican American, who met Bo’s father when he came to America in the eighties, seeking asylum from the troubles in Northern Ireland.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, tracing the vine that wove between the hearts, binding them together. Sadie didn’t want to stop touching him, so she ran her hand along his back, counting the tattoos as she passed them.

  “One.” She pressed her palm to the pair of hearts.

  “Two.” She circled the moon on his right shoulder before sliding her hand across to the sun on the left. “Three.”

  Sadie moved, walking around him, fingers trailing over his ribs, never breaking contact as she came to stand in front of him. She stroked up and over the flower stem, slowly outlining the points on the thistle. “Four.” She brushed her thumb over the bumblebee. “Is that it?”

  “That’s it.” Bo’s voice was a low rumble vibrating beneath her hands.

  His skin felt different here, not as smooth. Sadie stepped closer, her height putting her at the perfect position to study the flower carefully.

  He stiffened.

  “There’s a scar here.” Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of the ribbon of healed flesh completely hidden within the design of the tattoo. She’d missed it the first time he’d shown her, and never would have noticed it if she hadn’t been touching him, hadn’t felt the raised seam on his skin. The wound was old, but it must have been deep to leave such a lasting mark.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He was silent for so long, she wasn’t sure he would answer her.

  “Accident,” he finally bit out.

  She didn’t press, but waited, fingers stroking gently over the scar, hoping he would continue.

  “Dad and I were driving the carriage back to the barn.” His voice was clipped, as if he had to force each word through his teeth. “Dad was on the box, but it should have been me. I knew he was tired. He’d been up long before sunrise to deal with a new foal. But he insisted he was fine. You remember how he was.” He glanced down at her, a rough laugh easing some of the tension around his eyes.

  Sadie smiled. She did remember.

  “So, I let him drive while I took the backstep and held on to the tailboard. It was dusk. I should have been paying attention. Then I might’ve caught sight of the bucks racing across the meadow and warned my dad.”

  “The deer spooked the horses?” Sadie asked quietly.

  Bo nodded. “Took Dad completely by surprise. He lost control of the reins and the horses tore off. We hit a bump and the carriage flipped. I went flying off the back, but Dad, he got trapped underneath.”

  “Oh God,” Sadie breathed, her heart filling with dread. When she’d asked about his parents, he’d said they were fine. “Bo, your dad, he isn’t…”

  “Dead?” He swallowed. “No.” The barest hint of a smile touched his lips. “As Mom says, he’s too stubborn to let the devil have him yet.”

  Sadie waited, knowing there was more, and it wasn’t good.

  “Dad’s alive and well. Still kicking.” He stopped, grimacing. “Well, not literally. The accident messed up his back, did something to his spine. The doctors couldn’t fix it. He’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

  “Oh, Bo, I’m so sorry.” Sadie had no idea. She’d closed herself off completely from everything to do with Bo, and that included everything that happened at the estate.

  “Don’t be. I told you, Dad’s fine. He’s made peace with it. The last thing he wants is anyone’s pity.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply…” Sadie searched for the right words. She remembered Bo’s father. How, like Bo, he’d been full of boundless energy, always in motion. To imagine that restless, robust man constrained to a wheelchair … She stopped that thought in its tracks, realizing she was making assumptions she had no business making.

  “You’re absolutely right,” she said
. “Your dad deserves better than my pity.”

  “Yep, so let’s move on.” He swept his hand through the air, dispelling the somber moment. “You’ve seen all my tattoos. I’ve fulfilled my dare, and as a bonus, I just shared a truth. Which means it’s definitely my turn.” He bent his head closer, lips to her ear. “What’s it going to be? Truth? Or Dare?”

  CHAPTER 13

  NERVES STRUNG TIGHT, Bo waited for Sadie’s answer. How the hell had this day gotten so far off track?

  It was wild enough she was here, in his apartment. But he’d just exposed himself. Given her a piece of his past, revealed a bit of his soul.

  Fuck. Speaking of exposing himself. Bo suddenly remembered his fly was open, revealing something a little more … tangible. He glanced down. Rock-hard, his cock was still imprisoned inside his briefs, the tip escaping, pressing flat against his stomach. The whole time he’d been standing there, talking about serious shit, his dick was popping out of his pants.

  This could only happen with Sadie. Things with his little abeja were never normal. Damn, he’d missed her. He’d missed everything about her. The way she laughed, the way she jerked her chin up to stare him down when he annoyed her. He missed touching her, watching her skin flush with desire.

  And clearly, the rest of him missed her too. He really should adjust his pants and cover himself. But at this point, it was almost more awkward to do something about the situation than it was to continue ignoring it. So, he stood there, waiting for her to decide.

  Truth or dare? Bo wasn’t sure which he wanted her to choose. He knew exactly what he’d say in either case. Had both already picked out.

  She was nibbling her bottom lip, working it back and forth while she debated her options. He watched as her gaze drifted over him, catching how her eyes bulged when she caught sight of his bulge. Sadie let out a squeak.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Um, your, ah…”

  “Dick is still out?” Bo’s mouth twitched, a juvenile snicker on the verge of escaping. He couldn’t help it. How had she forgotten his pants were undone? She’d been the one to undo them.

  “Is that … comfortable?” she asked. Still staring at his groin, she licked her lips, and now it wasn’t his mouth that was twitching.

  “Well, you gaping at it isn’t helping,” he said mildly.

  “Oh.” Her eyes darted away, but almost immediately returned. “I meant…” With obvious effort, she returned her attention to his face. “I meant, is it comfortable … to have it, um, stuck like that?”

  “Not really, no.” Again, he was struck by the absurdity of this moment. Of their conversation. Only with Sadie. “Have you decided yet? Or should I pick for you?”

  That got her attention.

  “You’d pick for me?” She narrowed her eyes at him, considering. “Why?”

  “Why not?” He knew she was searching for the trap hidden in his words, but there wasn’t one. Not really. In his mind, either choice was going to lead them down the same path. If he was honest with himself, from the moment they’d begun playing, he’d known where this game was going. “Because you take too long to decide.”

  Her face flushed. He’d hit a nerve with that one. He knew he would. But it worked. His comment goaded her into action.

  “Fine.” She sniffed. “Pick.”

  “Truth,” he responded immediately.

  Her eyebrows lifted with surprise. Which told him she’d been expecting him to say dare this time.

  He had plenty of things he’d like to dare her to do. But what he wanted now was more of the truth. “Did you miss me?”

  It was unfair of him to ask that question, seeing as he was the one who’d broken things off between them. But their conversation from that first day at the reading still stung. The knowledge she’d not looked him up, not once in all those years, burned a hole in his gut. As seconds ticked by and Sadie remained silent, the burning sensation intensified, a sharp pain ripping through him.

  After a freaking eternity, she finally nodded. “Yes, Bo. I did. I missed you.”

  He let out a breath, the ache easing a little. Bo loved hearing her say his name. Loved the way her upper lip dipped to kiss her lower one as her mouth formed the single syllable. He’d missed that too.

  He was an asshole for wanting this from her, for needing it. She owed him nothing. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from asking for more. “Did you…” His voice faltered. “Did you think about me?”

  A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across her face, so many and so fast, he had no hope of deciphering them all. There was pain there. Pain he’d caused. He couldn’t expect her to give more of herself without giving something back. “I missed you.” Bo reached for her hands. “So damn much.” He squeezed her hands inside his. “I thought about you every day, abeja. Every. Fucking. Day.”

  “I thought about you too,” Sadie whispered. She swallowed, licked her lips, voice a little stronger as she added, “All the time.”

  He lifted her fingers to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

  She giggled.

  Bo froze, staring down at her. What the hell did she find funny about this?

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “But it tickles.”

  “What tickles?”

  “Your beard.” Sadie pulled her hands from his grasp and reached up, exploring his face with her fingertips. She stroked his beard. “It’s soft.”

  “You sound surprised.” He held still as she continued to touch him, her thumbs rubbing along the sides of his jaw and under his chin, where his beard gave way to smooth skin.

  “I’ve never kissed someone with a beard before,” she murmured.

  “Well then,” he said, bending toward her, “it would be my pleasure to be your first.” He kissed her then, pressing his lips to hers.

  She kissed him back, her mouth moving beneath his, opening without reservation or hesitation as he slipped his tongue inside.

  The shock of it, so familiar and yet so new, rocked through him. Hot, slick, sweet. “You taste so good, abeja.” Bo nibbled at her lips. “Sweet. So fucking sweet.” He reached up, grasping the short spikes of her hair between his fingers and tugging her head back, forcing her mouth to open wider as he kissed her again, tongue going deeper, swallowing the delicious little sounds she was making in the back of her throat.

  She leaned into him. Bo moaned into her mouth, relishing the press of her perfect little tits against his bare chest. Sadie reached between them, her hand wrapping around the exposed head of his cock, picking up where he’d stopped her earlier.

  Bo had no intention of stopping her now.

  Like before, she wrapped her fingers around the tip, her grip firm and sure. But it wasn’t enough.

  Luckily, Sadie seemed to be thinking the same thing. She tugged on his pants, working his jeans and briefs down over his hips. He reached for the hem of her dress, and their arms got tangled. Bo broke the kiss.

  “Hold on,” he rasped, stepping back and shucking off his boots. When he looked up from tugging off his socks and discarding the rest of his clothes, he saw she’d managed to kick off her sneakers and was in the process of slipping out of her dress.

  The soft fabric fluttered to the ground. But Bo barely noticed.

  “Ho … ly … fuck,” he breathed. A scrap of cherry-red silk lay between her legs. More red silk hugged her breasts, lifting the gently rounded mounds high, frilly lace trim barely hiding the pale pink of her nipples.

  “You are beautiful, mi tesoro.” He gently touched one of the delicate straps of her bra. “I want to taste you,” he told her, fingers stroking over the lace, teasing her. “I want to lick and nip and bite you.” Bo dropped to his knees, arms wrapping around her waist, teeth grazing the strip of lace at her hips. “I want to suck your clit,” he said, mouth hovering over the little red triangle of silk, “right through these sweet fucking panties.”

  “Oh.” A trill of surprised laughter escaped her. “You always did cut to the ch
ase.”

  Bo stared up at her. “Is that a yes?”

  Sadie answered him with her body. Arching her back, hips thrusting toward him, she threaded her fingers in his hair, her nails an erotic scrape against his scalp as she urged him closer, pressing his mouth to her pussy.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, lips curving in a smile as he brushed them over the silk covering her curls.

  She whimpered, legs trembling.

  “Come here.” Bo helped her to the floor. She lay back, and he nudged her legs apart, cupping his hands behind her knees as he bent over her. “Quiero comerte la panocha.”

  “I know what that means, bad boy,” Sadie panted, voice raw and husky with lust. “You’ve got a very naughty mouth.”

  “Sí,” Bo growled. “And I’m about to put it to work on you.” She was already wet, so incredibly hot and lusciously wet. He stroked her, circling his tongue around the tiny bud before making good on his promise and sucking her through the delicate silk.

  Sadie moaned, her hands fisting in his hair. “More.”

  Bo chuckled, remembering this side of her, the greedy, demanding side. He fucking loved it. Hands on her thighs, he spread her wider, pushing her legs higher, over his shoulders, until her heels were resting against his back. He breathed her in, savoring the earthy tang of her arousal on his tongue, teeth nipping her tender skin with tiny teasing bites.

  Sadie dropped her arms to the side, palms slapping the hardwood floor as she bucked her hips and begged, “More.”

  “Whatever you want, abeja.” Bo wrapped his fist around the lace at her waist. “You want more; I’ll give you more.” He yanked once, hard. The fabric ripped and fell away, leaving her bare to his touch. He slipped a finger inside, relishing the soft slick feel of her.

  She gasped at the invasion, but then her body tightened around him, and she moaned his name. The sound shivered down his spine, made his balls ache.

  “That’s it.” Bo pumped his finger back and forth, hungry for each gasp, each thrust of her hips. “Come on, abeja,” he urged her on, finger moving deep inside her, tongue flicking over her sticky sweet heat. “Come for me, honeybee.” He felt the tremors begin in her legs and braced himself, covering her with his mouth, sucking hard and fast, taking her over the edge.