Big Bad Boys: A Romance Collection Read online

  He tastes the same way he smells—animalistic, all salt and a heady, hot scent that makes me go weak at the knees. I can’t get enough of the taste, and even after he stops coming, I keep licking his cock, cleaning every drop of cum from him, until finally he reaches down and tilts my chin up so I pause long enough to meet his eyes.

  “You are dangerously fucking good at that, do you know that?” he asks, a dark chuckle underlying his tone.

  I can’t help it. I grin up at him, pleased. “Do you want me to try again?” I ask, leaning forward to flick my tongue across the tip of his cock. To my surprise, he’s already starting to get hard again, or at least not softening all the way. Those dark eyes of his are still locked on mine, boring into me, and I wonder if it’s the sight of me kneeling at his feet that has him hardening once more already.

  Before I can ask, Damon reaches down with both hands and draws me to my feet. It’s easy for him—he picks me up like I weigh nothing at all. I glance up at him, our faces inches apart, and then I reach for the hem of the shirt he’s still wearing. Slowly peel it up and off him, to drop it into a pile beside the pants he already shed. He’s naked in front of me now, every inch of his sculpted muscles on perfect display, and I run my hands across his chest, his abs, his hips, unable to believe that I just made this man, this Adonis, nearly drop to his knees in pleasure with my mouth alone.

  From the look in his eyes, Damon can’t believe it either. He watches me touch him for a moment in silence, then reaches down and pulls off my shirt as well, slowly and sensuously, not at all like the rough man from earlier who demanded I suck his cock for a deal.

  A deal… There’s something else I should be focusing on. Another job I had to do here. It nags at me, but not hard enough to break through the fog when Damon drops my shirt to the floor beside us and unclasps my bra next, letting my breasts spring free. He reaches down to cup them with both hands, his thumbs massaging my nipples in slow circles until they harden under his touch.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, and standing there, before his awed gaze, I feel it, for the first time in a long time.

  I step closer to him, let our torsos press together, and feel the white hot heat between us, the burn of his skin against mine. His arms encircle me almost by habit, and then creep down toward my skirt, to push under the waistband and slide down to cup my ass.

  Our faces hover just centimeters apart. So close that I can feel his hot breath on my cheek, and catch the scent of him, mingled with mint now. “Tell me the truth,” I murmur. “Did you clean up for me today, Damon Tell?”

  “Is that one of your questions?” he asks, eyes snagging mine. Then, without another answer, without waiting for me to respond to that, he leans forward and his lips collide with mine.

  We crash into each other. There’s no other word for that kiss—for the way his mouth devours mine, hungry and wanting, and the way I swallow him right back, our tongues tangled and our lips pressed together so hard I can feel my teeth behind them, but I don’t care. He bites my lower lip, just hard enough to make me gasp, and I catch his lip between my teeth next, tease him by rolling it between my teeth.

  His arms tighten around me, lift me off the ground, and next thing I know we’re tumbling sideways onto the bed, Damon on top of me, pinning me beneath his strong body, my legs wrapped around his waist as he leans in, mouth still firmly clasped to mine. We part just long enough for him to gaze down at me, a growl in his throat.

  “I can taste my cum on your tongue,” he murmurs, a faint grin on his lips. “It’s hot as hell, Ashley Marrón.”

  In response, I lean up to kiss him again, and his hands slide between us, just long enough to undo the clasp of my skirt and wriggle it down and off my hips. He tosses it aside, laughing under his breath when he finds that, once again, I’m wearing no panties beneath.

  “Quick learner,” he says, his voice appreciative.

  “It helps when you have a thing for your teacher,” I point out, grinning. But something about the moment stops him, then. He pauses, leaning over me, gaze sweeping over my body. The same hunger, same lust, is still white-hot in his gaze, but now he’s hesitating, and I don’t know why.

  “What is it?” I murmur, when he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

  Damon leans back, slowly, and my body aches, physically protesting the lack of his hot warmth against me. “I didn’t meant to do that,” he says, his voice different now, low and soft and filled with regret.

  I push myself up to a seated position on my elbows. Then I try and fail to catch his eye. “Do what?”

  He runs a hand through his hair. Grips it and tugs a little, his teeth gritted. “You should leave.”

  “Leave? Now?”

  “This is all getting too messy, and I’m not in control—”

  “Tell me what’s going on, Damon? One second you’re demanding I suck your cock for information, the next you’re freaking out and kicking me out of the visitation room—without fulfilling your half of the bargain, I might add.”

  “Oh, I’ll give you your damn information, Ashley. If that’s all you care about.”

  “I asked what was wrong, and you refused to tell me.”

  “Because if you stay, things are going to get worse for you. Way more complicated.”

  “So what?” I demand, setting my jaw. “What’s going to happen if I stay, exactly?”

  “If you stay, I’m going to do what I really want to do to you.” He finally meets my eye again, and this time, there’s a look there that I’ve never seen before. He looks… angry. But not at me. At himself. “Are you prepared to accept that, Ashley? Are you really as brave as you act like you are?”

  I square my shoulders. “I came here to do a job, Damon. I’d do anything for this business—for my father. And unlike you, I finish the jobs I start.”

  That blow lands. I watch it happen, watch the flinch in his eyes, and the way he reacts to it, the way his anger fills in the hole I just shot in his armor. “Fine,” he practically snarls. “You want me to finish this job? Be careful what you ask for.” He grabs me, then, and tosses me backwards onto the bed, landing hard on top of me.

  He spreads my legs roughly, arching his back so the tip of his cock runs along the length of my slit, from back to front, coating himself in my juices—because, damn him, I’m already wet as hell from sucking his cock earlier.

  “Last chance,” he says, glaring down at me. “Tell me to stop. Because if you don’t, I’m going to fuck you right now, Ashley. I’m going to fuck you, raw and real, so hard that you won’t be able to walk out of here in a straight line. And when I’m ready, I’m going to come inside your tight little pussy. Are you ready for that?”

  My stomach flips a little. I’ve never heard a guy say it like that, never heard anyone threaten to come inside me so ferociously. Somehow, it’s turning me the fuck on. I’m on birth control at least, so that part doesn’t bother me. Plus, it’s kind of sexy when he says it like that.

  So I just spread my legs wider and lift my chin, meeting his dare with one of my own. “Show me what you’ve got, Damon.”

  He thrusts into me so hard and fast that I cry out, unable to resist. His cock is thick, thicker than any guy I’ve been with before, and it spreads my pussy wide, making me feel stuffed already. He draws back, thrusts again, and this time I can feel the tip of his cock touch my cervix just barely, his girth stretching my walls. I’ve never felt so fucking full.

  In response, I arch my hips up against him. He pulls back and starts to find his rhythm, thrusting deep into me with every thrust.

  “You like that, dirty girl? You like feeling a real man’s cock inside you?” He reaches down to grab my breasts, and pinches my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. I gasp aloud, and he tightens his grip, just hard enough to make it sting a little, to send conflicting messages to my overloading brain—pain and pleasure, ache and ecstasy.

  “Fucking give it to me, Damon,” I manage to gasp between thrusts
, as he continues to pound into me.

  That makes him grin. Without warning, he grips my hips, draws back and out of me—I can’t help it then, I mewl faintly in protest at the sensation of his warm cock leaving my pussy entirely—and flips me over beneath him. I land on all fours, and grip the bed with both hands to hold on as he drives his cock into my pussy from behind.

  “God you’re fucking tight,” he groans. I cast a glance over my shoulder and find his eyes glossed, his expression torn between anger and lust. He pushes my head down, buries my face in the pillow, and wraps a fist around my hair as he continues to fuck me, his other hand clamped tight around my hip to hold me in place while he takes what he wants from me.

  I’ve never felt so turned on in my life. I’m completely in his control, and we both know it… and I’m fucking loving it.

  He speeds up, then, and I thrust back against him, moving my hips in sync with his. When I clench my pussy, pulling the muscles as tight as I can, he growls against the nape of my neck and bites the skin there lightly, still thrusting into me.

  “That’s it, get ready for it,” he murmurs.

  “I’m ready,” I manage to gasp out, my breath coming hard and fast as we move faster, harder. His balls slap against my pussy lips, and I’m sure I’ll have black and blue marks on my ass where his hips are colliding with my cheeks. I don’t care. “I want your cum, Damon. Come inside me.”

  “I’m going to fill that tight little pussy with cum.” His hands reach under me to grab my breasts again, massaging hard and tight. My already hard nipples ache so hard they feel like they’re going to burst, but it’s a pleasurable ache. One that I want to keep feeling as long as possible.

  He arches his hips, angles so that his cock drags along my front inner wall, and I gasp in surprise as his tip rakes hard across my G-spot. My knees start to tremble, but now that he’s found the sweet spot, Damon doesn’t give me any reprieve. He keeps fucking me right there, making sure his cock hits my G-spot on every inward and outward thrust. Before long, my breath comes in gasping pants, as the orgasm sweeps toward me.

  I cry out when it hits, my voice so loud that a distant part of my brain wonders if the guards will register it as a scream. I don’t care. I’m too lost in the pleasure, loving the feeling of Damon’s cock inside me. He continues to fuck me without pause, without so much as a break to let me catch my breath. The sensation of his cock still sliding over and over my already-sensitive G-spot makes a second, smaller orgasm hit me almost right away, my legs shaking under me as I scream again, this time into the pillow.

  Damon laughs softly behind me. “I love hearing you come for me,” he murmurs. But I manage to regain control of my body for long enough to thrust back against him, then, and I’m rewarded by hearing his own gasp, and feeling his cock shudder inside me as he nears the edge himself.

  “Come inside me,” I gasp, thrusting back against him. “Come in me, Damon.”

  A low growl is my only response. He’s beyond words now. He grabs my hips and pulls me back against him, hard, as his cock spreads my pussy wide. With one last hard fuck, he starts to come, his cock shuddering inside my pussy, and white-hot semen coating my walls as he finishes. I tighten my pussy around him, clenching the muscles as hard as I can, and I’m rewarded with another spasm from his cock, another wash of cum. So much of it. Fucking hell, that’s hot.

  He pulls back, and I moan faintly, especially when the hot liquid drips down my legs in a rush—a combination of both our juices, making the air in this small room hot and thick with the scent of sex.

  I collapse forward onto the bed, breath coming short and fast. I’m not sure what I expect now, but it isn’t this. It isn’t Damon lying down alongside me, wrapping both arms around my waist and pulling me tight against him. It isn’t him resting his chin on my shoulder, so his warm breath caresses my ear as he murmurs against my skin, “You’re too good for your father.”

  I frown and try to turn, glance back at him. But he just tightens his grip, holds me in place.

  “He doesn’t deserve your sacrifice, Ashley,” Damon whispers.

  6

  Fucking hell. I never knew it could feel like this. I never knew anyone could make me feel the way Ashley Marrón does. Not just the sex—although that is fucking mind-blowing, I have to admit. But I’ve never felt so tempted to open up to someone before. Especially not the last person on the planet I should be trusting or opening up to. The one person sent here to make me do just this, to win information for her snake of a father, who’d use that information to put me in solitary for life, or probably worse if he thought there was a chance I might someday speak out against him.

  The moment I tell Ashley what really happened—the moment her father gets his hands on that money—I’m as good as dead. I know Marrón has men on the inside here. Hell, even the guards let him set up this fake fiancée arrangement, not just once, but three times now. It wouldn’t take more than a snap of his fingers to get me killed.

  And yet, here I am. Here I am, softening toward her. Here I am, thinking about doing this. Thinking about telling her the truth, about trusting her.

  I shouldn’t. I can’t. And yet…

  “You have to promise me something, Ashley,” I murmur.

  “Anything,” she replies, without hesitation, without guile. I’m right. She’s too good for her old man. By miles. Too good for this entire shit situation she’s been roped into.

  “Promise me, whatever happens, that you won’t think worse of me, for telling you this. I shouldn’t. I should take this story with me to the grave. But…” My words catch in my throat.

  She shifts in my arms. Rolls over, and this time, I let her. Let those big brown eyes of hers find mine, and lock on. I can’t lie. Not when she looks at me like that. “But?” she murmurs.

  “But you make me want to tell the truth. No matter how many people it puts in danger.”

  A little frown line appears between her brows. A crease of concern that I want nothing more than to kiss and smooth away. But I’m about to make that frown line deeper, and I know it.

  “Telling me about the money won’t put anyone in danger, Damon,” Ashley whispers. “All it will do is secure my father’s business—my business, for a little while longer. That’s it. We don’t want to hurt anyone, I promise you.”

  “You don’t, Ashley. And I believe that. But I was telling you the truth when I said you don’t know your father as well as you think you do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifts her chin, meets my gaze without fear, without judgment. She just wants the truth. I’ve not met many people like her, people who aren’t looking for white lies to soften the blow or to ease the pain. I’m usually a straight shooter—I’m not used to being the one tempted to lie, tempted to tell her another story, any story, that will make this easier for her.

  But when I stare into those big brown eyes of hers, and when she whispers, “Tell me, Damon,” I can’t do anything else.

  “I agreed to do a job for your father. To rob the Cornerstone Bank. Local business, owned by Eric Brown. Small job, not a huge payroll, but I was in a bind, needed the cash.”

  Her brow furrows a little bit more. “I know all this.”

  “No,” I tell her, “you don’t. Not the whole truth of it.”

  “Then explain to me what I’m missing.”

  I lean closer. Tilt my head forward until my forehead rests against hers, and I have an unimpeded view of those gorgeous eyes, the kind of eyes a guy like me could drown in. She might look innocent, but Ashley Marrón is dangerous, all right. Possibly the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met.

  I decide I don’t care.

  “Things went south. The owner’s wife and kid were at the bank too. The wife started to scream the moment she saw my gun. I managed to calm her down, got the owner to fill the bags I carried. But when my back was turned…” I groan. “The wife had a cell phone. She dialed the police. I called your father, told him we had to abort—he was out
side in the car. I was running to meet him, bag from the vault in hand, when I ran into him going the other way. Back into the bank.”

  I pause, check Ashley’s expression. She’s still staring at me, deadpan, waiting for the reveal.

  God, I hope I’m doing the right thing. I hope this blow doesn’t hit her as hard as I fear it will.

  “He had a gun drawn, Ashley. I sensed something was wrong. I shouted for Eric, the bank owner, to run. He didn’t, though. He helped his wife and daughter out the side door, then faced your father alone, unarmed.”

  “No,” Ashley breathes. “Dad didn’t—he wouldn’t.”

  “I stole the car your father left idling. Picked up the wife and daughter around the side of the bank. Drove them away, just as we heard the gunshot back inside.”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “Your father doesn’t like leaving loose ends, Ashley. He was worried Eric would talk, pin this back on us. He called, left me about a dozen voice messages telling me how and where to kill the wife and kid. It took a while before he realized what I must have done. That I’d freed them instead.”

  “We don’t kill innocent people,” Ashley says, louder now. She pulls away from me a little, her expression hard. “It’s the number one thing Dad always promised me. The one code we stand by.”

  “You don’t know your father half so well as you think, Ashley. I’m sorry.”

  Ashley swallows down whatever protest is clearly itching at her throat next. Her forehead is a tight crease of a frown, and in her eyes, I can see the war beginning. Part of her wants to deny it. Wants to call me a liar and a snake and the root of all this evil. But there’s another voice in there. Another part of Ashley, the smart girl that I’ve gotten to know so well in such a short time, who knows better. Part of her knows that this is entirely plausible.

  You can’t grow up this smart, and be the daughter of Mauricio Marrón, and not know a thing or two about what that man is capable of doing.