The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  ‘Thank you, no,’ she refuses, then she thinks better of it. ‘Actually, yes, I will have one.’

  ‘What can I get you?’

  Her gaze flickers over me. ‘Um … cognac if you have it.’ And after a slight pause. ‘Make it a double.’

  I walk to the bar and feel her eyes burning into my back as I automatically pull glasses from the cabinet. My mind is churning. I grab the cognac bottle and uncap it. One thing is for sure: She didn’t happen to be in the neighborhood.

  I tilt the bottle and pour out a generous measure.

  I try to think why she is here and I cannot imagine any reason she could possibly have for coming to my office at this time of the night. I wipe the frown from my forehead and turn around. Casually, I walk up to her and hold out the drink.

  She lets her fingers brush mine as she takes it. Of course, they are as befits the pampered daughter of a dangerous man, silky soft.

  ‘Aren’t you having one?’ she asks, one eyebrow arched.

  ‘No.’ My voice sounds thick and strange.

  ‘Oh,’ she exclaims, gazing up at me.

  It’s like looking down at an angel or an apparition. It has a hypnotizing almost paralyzing effect on me, probably because I’ve never been this close to her before. I struggle with the crazy urge to grab her and devour her sulky mouth.

  Jesus! I need to put something between us. I walk around my desk and sit down. Silently, I watch her drain the glass. The way her white throat moves as she swallows, the movement so erotic my cock stirs. She clasps the empty glass loosely in her lap and looks at it. The silence stretches between us.

  Odd. Tight. Strained.

  But I hold my tongue. Let her break it.

  Finally, she looks up. ‘I’m … getting … married in six months,’ she says quietly.

  I already knew that little fact, Tasha. You’re marrying the good-for-nothing son of a psychopathic billionaire. I

  t’s a marriage brokered in hell by her fat fuck father, a thoroughly ugly and detestable man. If he knew she was here it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Blood on the floor would be the least of it.

  I say nothing and she fixes me with those unnerving eyes of hers.

  ‘Well, anyway, I thought that before I settle down I’d like to try life a little.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ I can’t fucking believe she’s going where I think she’s going.

  ‘Yeah. I want you to have sex with me tonight,’ she says very quickly into the tense air.

  My entire body reacts to her words. My heart hammers in my chest and blood races so fast into my cock it hurts, but years of training keeps my face poker straight. Until today she has never even so much as looked in my direction and now she wants me to fuck her. Something’s not right. I steeple my hands on the table.

  ‘You might need to explain yourself a little bit more.’

  She gives a one-shoulder shrug, a careless, elegant, infuriating movement. ‘What’s to explain? I want us to … fuck.’ The princess had to struggle to get that last word out.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because … because I want to be … taken by someone like you.’

  Like me. Now, I get it. The spoilt, bored rich girl is going to become the spoilt bored wife of a spineless fool, but before she submits to that endless boredom she wants to experience something dirty, with someone from the wrong end of town.

  The princess wants to be a slut for one night. And the person she has chosen is me. I lean back in my chair and let my eyes roll all over her. Well, well, well. All that untouchable beauty just laid out for me to spoil and dishonor.

  ‘What makes you think I want one night with you?’

  Her smooth brow crinkles. ‘Don’t all men want a no strings, dirty night with a perfect stranger?’

  I stare at her. This is what happens when you shelter your daughter to death.

  She mistakes my silence for reluctance. As if any man in his right man would refuse her. Swallowing hard she straightens her spine as steely determination sparkles in her eyes. She has, after all, come from her father’s loins.

  ‘There will be no consequences to you. No one will ever know. After tonight we will probably never meet again, and even if we do it will be as if this night never happened.’

  ‘Where does your father think you are now?’

  She licks those lips that I want to bite. ‘In my bed. Asleep.’

  As if my lustful thought has transferred to her, her white teeth sink into her bottom lip. I inhale sharply. Pure lust is a powerful, bewitching thing. I have always detested weak people whose only excuse for doing things they shouldn’t is:

  It was the moment. I simply couldn’t help myself.

  In that instant I get what they are talking about. Every cell in my body is screaming at me not to take the poisoned chalice, but as if she has cast a spell on me, I stand up, walk around the desk like a zombie, and hold out my hand.

  She wants dirty sex.

  I know all about that.

  Sure I’ll give her a night so dirty her toes will curl. I’ll make it so unforgettable in years to come while her husband’s half-flaccid dick labors inside her she will close her eyes and remember my cock thrusting inside her.

  A glimmer of a smile appears on her lips. She puts her hand in mine, I tug at it, and she allows herself to tumble against my body. Her body is softly curving and immediately molds itself into the hardness of mine. Her perfume rises up and fills my nostrils. I breathe it in. It’s been a long time, in fact, I can’t remember the last time a woman could disarm me in this way. But she only wants dirty sex with you. She is yours only tonight.

  ‘Are you wet?’ I whisper harshly.

  She shakes her head, her eyes huge.

  My eyebrows rise. ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says defiantly.

  Without warning I grab her round ass and stick my other hand under her chase dress. She struggles, but I tighten my hold, making her efforts puny and useless. Her eyes flash as my hand touches her bare pussy. My, My, she didn’t even wear panties! I plunge two fingers into her cunt. She gasps and goes rigid.

  ‘Then …’ I extract my fingers from inside her. ‘What the fuck is this?’ I ask softly as I wipe my fingers on her downy cheek.

  Her amazing eyes flash.

  I bend my head and lick her cheek where I smeared her slick juices. She tastes like musky honey. Unforgettable. I already know I’ll miss her taste when she leaves in the early morning hours. Deeply inhaling the scent of her I force my tongue into her mouth. At first she doesn’t do anything, and then she starts to suck it. Fuck it, this woman drives me crazy. I withdraw my tongue and look at her. My cock is straining against the zipper of my jeans.

  ‘You’re never going to have another night like this so no more coy games and no more lies tonight, understood?’

  She nods silently.

  ‘Are you wet?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How wet?’

  ‘Dripping,’ she says hoarsely.

  I smile faintly. ‘Will you do anything I ask tonight?’

  ‘Yes. Anything.’

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  Georgia Le Carre

  ALSO BY GEORGIA

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  Dirty Aristocrat: Bonus Book

  Published by Georgia Le Carre

  Copyright © 2015 by Georgia Le Carre

  The right of Georgia Le Carre to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN:978-1-910575-25-3

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  Dedication

  To all my readers who like it hot and steamy!

  ‘A secret’s worth depends on the people from it must be kept.’

  —Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

  Chapter 1

  Ivan de Greystoke

  The Dirty Aristocrat club, London

  ‘Lord Greystoke? You wouldn’t be related to Tarzan, would you? You sure look a lot like him,’ she said with a brainless little giggle.

  ‘I could be, if you’re into that sort of thing,’ I drawled lazily.

  ‘I am,’ she said eagerly, her hands greedily skimming the muscles of my upper-arms.

  So I pulled her, I think her name might have been Kitty, into the dark shadows of the club, and slammed her up against the wall.

  ‘Oooo,’ she cooed, her breath reeking of peppermint and alcohol, and her eyes wide and begging me to fuck her. Against the thin material of her outfit her nipples were straining.

  I grabbed her dress—well it could have been a dress if it had not had such a drastic hemline: the poor girl had to fight all night to keep it down—and pulled it right up to her waist, exposing a black satin thong. The material had crept into her pussy and sliced her lips into two juicy pieces of luscious flesh.

  Nice.

  I got down on my haunches, and with her pussy at eye level, curled my fingers around her sweaty waistband and pulled the ridiculous scrap of cloth down. The lips had been shaved bald, but she’d left a small triangle of curly dark hair above them.

  Awww … fuck. Not another fake blonde.

  Still she was plenty sexy with a big red mouth that looked like it loved being stretched over a cock, real boobs, a round ass, and extra long legs, but her golden hair was the thing that had pulled me to her like a magnet.

  It would just have to be doggy style.

  She stepped out of her thong. It was still warm from her body heat. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. The wonderful musk from a night spent rubbing up to a lusty, moist vagina filled my nostrils. I became hard immediately.

  ‘Oh kinky,’ she squealed. It occurred to me then that her voice was too high and a tiny bit irritating.

  Honey, you don’t know the half. I stood up and pulled her dress down over her ass cheeks and gave one of the round globes a good slap. ‘Now, get back on the dance floor, you dirty little slut,’ I growled.

  ‘Pervert,’ she accused.

  ‘I like to think so,’ I said and stepped aside.

  She giggled and pushing herself off the wall, began her bottom-wriggling walk towards the dance floor. Already her dress was beginning to ride up her ass, and I could see a glimpse of one smooth ass cheek peaking out from under the material. She made no effort to pull her dress back down. Instead she looked back over her shoulder at me, sultry as a summer night in Istanbul.

  I smiled slowly, approvingly.

  She pretended to drop her purse and with her legs apart and bottom pushed up and out, bent down from the waist to pick it. Yup, both her pussy and asshole were on full display. The flash of so much pink drove my cock crazy.

  She made it to the edge of the dance floor and turned to face me, pushed her breasts out, and started rubbing her nipples as she gyrated her hips. With every movement she made, her skirt was creeping higher and higher. There was something animalistic and raw about the way she stood, her thighs spread apart and glistening with sweat, utterly unashamed of the fact that she was making a spectacle of herself.

  Looking intently at me, she deliberately lifted her hands over her head so her pussy lips poked out from under her dress. She was giving every man in that club a show. I looked around. Hundreds of eyes were crawling all over her body. Who doesn’t recognize wet pussy? A man dancing next to her accidentally/purposely rubbed his hand along her bare ass cheek.

  Crude drunk.

  That ass was made for this dick.

  I gave him the stink eye as I prowled towards her, hornets in my blood. He jumped out of the way as if he had come across a rabid dog. It was hot and crowded on the dance floor and the beat of the music was as relentless as jungle drums. I stuck my leg between her spread thighs and she ground her hungry pussy onto the leather of my trousers. Her tits were bouncing and shaking with excitement.

  She wanted a show.

  And fuck was she going to get one.

  Picking up her left leg, I curled it around my waist. Her naked pussy splayed open. With one smooth movement my hand slipped down her stomach. Here kitty, kitty. I cupped her pussy.

  Fuck she was wet! I ran my middle finger down her slick slit and slipped it into her. I had planned to be subtle, but she grasped my hand with both hers and shoved my finger deeper into her hot, hungry hole. I pushed another two digits in and she groaned in ecstasy and frenziedly ground herself on me.

  The other dancers stopped their pathetic little moves and stood in a circle to cheer me on. It was that kind of club, seedy. And this was her thing. Exhibitionism. Letting people watch while strangers finger fucked her. This was what she whispered into my ear at the bar earlier.

  Music crashed and lights flashed around us while she rode my hand. She didn’t last long. The heat. The music. The audience. She climaxed all over my hand. Her juices squirting on the dance floor.

  I pulled my fingers out of her and looked down at the hot, sticky mess I had made between her open thighs. Her legs were still trembling and her pussy lips were red and swollen from the vigorous finger fucking I had just given her.

  Yeah, she’ll do nicely.

  I released her leg, and with a satisfied smirk she pulled her dress over her dripping bits. She’d had her fun and now it was my turn. I dragged her off the dance floor towards the men’s toilets. Unlike her I like a bit of privacy when I get my rocks off.

  Here I wasn’t Lord Ivan De Greystoke. Here I was Ivan the Terrible.

  Tawny Maxwell

  Barrington Manor, Bedfordshire

  ‘Whatever you do, don’t ever trust them. Not one of them,’ Robert whispered. His voice was so faint I had to strain to catch it.

  ‘I won’t,’ I said softly.

  ‘They are my own flesh and blood so they are dangerous in a way you will never understand. Never let your guard down.’

  ‘OK,’ I agreed immediately. I just wanted him to stop talking about his children. These last precious minutes I didn’t want to waste on them.

  He shook his head unhappily. ‘No, you don’t understand. You can never let your guard down for even an instant. Never.’

  ‘All right I won’t,’ I said in a placating voice.

  ‘I will be a very sad spirit if you do.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I cried passionately and reached for his hand. The contrast between our hands couldn’t be greater. Mine was smooth and soft and hi
s was gnarled and full of green veins, the skin waxy and liver spotted. His nails were the color of polished ivory. The hand of a sixty-year old dying man. I lifted it to my lips and kissed it tenderly.

  His eyes glowed briefly in his wasted, sunken face. ‘How I love you, my darling Tawny,’ he murmured.

  ‘I love you. I love you. I love you,’ I cried desperately. I felt frightened. I didn’t want to lose him. The world stretched out as a cruel and lonely place without him.

  ‘Keep our secret and they cannot touch you,’ he said calmly.

  ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I promised.

  ‘No one,’ he insisted.

  ‘No one,’ I agreed, shaking my head.

  He sighed. ‘It’s nearly time.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ I urged even though I knew he was right.

  His eyes moved to the window. ‘Ah,’ he sighed softly. ‘You’ve come.’

  My gaze swung to the window. It was closed. The heavy drapes pulled shut. Goose pimples ran up my arms. ‘Don’t go yet. Please,’ I begged.

  He dragged his gaze reluctantly from the window. His thin pale lips rose at the edges as he drew in a rattling breath. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got to pay my dues. I haven’t been a good man.’

  ‘Just wait a while.’

  ‘You have your whole life ahead of you.’

  He turned his unnaturally bright eyes away from me. Looking straight ahead, and with a violent shudder, he left this world.

  For a few seconds I simply stared at him. Appropriately, outside the January wind howled and dashed itself into the shutters. I knew the servants were waiting downstairs. Everyone was waiting for me to go down and give them the bad news. Then I leaned forward and put my cheek on his still, bony chest. He smelled strongly of medicine. I closed my eyes tightly. Why did you have to die and leave me to the wolves?

  In that moment I felt so close to him I wished this time would not end. I wished I could lie on his chest, safe and closeted away from the real world. I heard the clock ticking. The fire in the massive hearth cracked and spat. Somewhere a pipe creaked.