Read Online Baddest Bad Boys by Shannon McKenna, Cate Noble, E. C. Sheedy - Free Book Online Page B
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Erótica, Romance, Contemporary, Adult, Anthologies, Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
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her.
Wild and raw. When he really let go, which was rare, it all came roaring out. Too much for some women. “You OK?”
She hid her face against his shoulder. “OK is not the first word that comes to mind.”
“Did you like it?” He felt like an idiot for persisting, but whatever.
She peeked up at him. “You mean, you didn’t notice?”
“Oh yeah. You coming like crazy.” He grinned. “It was hard to miss.”
He rolled onto his side, and eased out of her. Slick and wet as she was, she still tugged him with a tender parting clutch as he withdrew.
He reached down to keep the condom in place, and saw blood on his fingers. It sent a jolt through him. Not a lot, just a pinkish smear, but still. It shook him. She’d been so trusting. He’d been…rough.
“Got to get rid of the condom,” he said, getting up. He fled to the bathroom, splashed his belly and his dauntless dick, which would not calm down. He washed until the water swirling down the drain was no longer pinkish and stared into the mirror, realizing with wonder that he could breathe. No soured, dead feeling. No cramp. The air went in and it came out. Smooth, natural. Just as it should. Ah.
He met Robin on his way out. Her cheeks were pink, eyes downcast. “My turn,” she murmured, disappearing into the bathroom.
She was in there for a long time, and he spent the whole interval staring at the reddish smears on the sleeping bag. He had to buy a new one tomorrow. His chest felt so strange. Hot and soft. Shaky.
He retrieved the other sleeping bag, unzipped it, and tossed it over the bed for a blanket. When she came out, she was startled to see him in the bed. He lifted up the sleeping bag in silent invitation.
Something inside him loosened as her face lit up.
She fitted herself to him. Cool, smooth, silky soft. He rolled her on top of him so the feeling could penetrate his whole body. Hell, who knew? Maybe he could even sleep. If his dick would settle down.
Catastrophe. Doom. Apocalypse, said the frantic chorus in his head.
Fuck you all, he said to them silently. He hadn’t felt this good in longer than he could remember. Hell with the chorus, the rules, Danny.
He wanted to breathe, to sleep. To feel that warm, soft feeling, after being clenched like a fist for so long. He wanted this.
It had been freely offered to him, and he was damn well taking it.
Julia parked down the street from Amendola’s duplex, trying hard to calm down. She vibrated with excitement. It was going so smoothly, so quickly. Amendola’s colleague had innocently revealed that he was on vacation. She’d ferreted his address out of a public database, and driven all night to get to this shabby North Portland neighborhood.
She didn’t have a plan yet, but that didn’t worry her. She had William himself, inside her head. Way better than a plan.
It hadn’t taken long to prepare. Her suitcase was full of designer clothes, by necessity high-necked and long-sleeved to cover William’s body art. She drove one of the vans, in case she had a chance to use the surveillance equipment, which she could install like a professional.
And behind the driver’s seat was the special case: the ebony chest filled with implements that they had used for their liberation rituals.
Julia had always had the honor of cleaning and polishing each blade, scissor, drill, hook, pincer and pick to a glowing sheen, lovingly laying each one in its nest of blood red velvet when they were done.
On the seat next to her was the final detail, tucked into a box she had carved herself out of styrofoam. The last of her most recent clutch of robin’s eggs. Delicate and beautiful. She pictured putting it into the slack, bloodied mouth of Amendola’s woman. A knife to his gut. Yes.
She got out, and walked up the cracked sidewalk like she had every right to be there. Fortunately, the door was not parallel to the street, but to the side, facing the other half of the duplex, and
Wild and raw. When he really let go, which was rare, it all came roaring out. Too much for some women. “You OK?”
She hid her face against his shoulder. “OK is not the first word that comes to mind.”
“Did you like it?” He felt like an idiot for persisting, but whatever.
She peeked up at him. “You mean, you didn’t notice?”
“Oh yeah. You coming like crazy.” He grinned. “It was hard to miss.”
He rolled onto his side, and eased out of her. Slick and wet as she was, she still tugged him with a tender parting clutch as he withdrew.
He reached down to keep the condom in place, and saw blood on his fingers. It sent a jolt through him. Not a lot, just a pinkish smear, but still. It shook him. She’d been so trusting. He’d been…rough.
“Got to get rid of the condom,” he said, getting up. He fled to the bathroom, splashed his belly and his dauntless dick, which would not calm down. He washed until the water swirling down the drain was no longer pinkish and stared into the mirror, realizing with wonder that he could breathe. No soured, dead feeling. No cramp. The air went in and it came out. Smooth, natural. Just as it should. Ah.
He met Robin on his way out. Her cheeks were pink, eyes downcast. “My turn,” she murmured, disappearing into the bathroom.
She was in there for a long time, and he spent the whole interval staring at the reddish smears on the sleeping bag. He had to buy a new one tomorrow. His chest felt so strange. Hot and soft. Shaky.
He retrieved the other sleeping bag, unzipped it, and tossed it over the bed for a blanket. When she came out, she was startled to see him in the bed. He lifted up the sleeping bag in silent invitation.
Something inside him loosened as her face lit up.
She fitted herself to him. Cool, smooth, silky soft. He rolled her on top of him so the feeling could penetrate his whole body. Hell, who knew? Maybe he could even sleep. If his dick would settle down.
Catastrophe. Doom. Apocalypse, said the frantic chorus in his head.
Fuck you all, he said to them silently. He hadn’t felt this good in longer than he could remember. Hell with the chorus, the rules, Danny.
He wanted to breathe, to sleep. To feel that warm, soft feeling, after being clenched like a fist for so long. He wanted this.
It had been freely offered to him, and he was damn well taking it.
Julia parked down the street from Amendola’s duplex, trying hard to calm down. She vibrated with excitement. It was going so smoothly, so quickly. Amendola’s colleague had innocently revealed that he was on vacation. She’d ferreted his address out of a public database, and driven all night to get to this shabby North Portland neighborhood.
She didn’t have a plan yet, but that didn’t worry her. She had William himself, inside her head. Way better than a plan.
It hadn’t taken long to prepare. Her suitcase was full of designer clothes, by necessity high-necked and long-sleeved to cover William’s body art. She drove one of the vans, in case she had a chance to use the surveillance equipment, which she could install like a professional.
And behind the driver’s seat was the special case: the ebony chest filled with implements that they had used for their liberation rituals.
Julia had always had the honor of cleaning and polishing each blade, scissor, drill, hook, pincer and pick to a glowing sheen, lovingly laying each one in its nest of blood red velvet when they were done.
On the seat next to her was the final detail, tucked into a box she had carved herself out of styrofoam. The last of her most recent clutch of robin’s eggs. Delicate and beautiful. She pictured putting it into the slack, bloodied mouth of Amendola’s woman. A knife to his gut. Yes.
She got out, and walked up the cracked sidewalk like she had every right to be there. Fortunately, the door was not parallel to the street, but to the side, facing the other half of the duplex, and
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