Property of the Bad Boy

  Property of the Bad Boy

  Published by Olive Tree Publishing LLC

  Copyright © 2015 Vanessa Waltz

  Edited by Faith Van Horne

  Cover Credits

  Kevin McGrath

  FuriousFotog

  Colin Wayne Model

  * * *

  waltzbooks@gmail.com

  F*CK MARRIAGE.

  I didn’t know the meaning of tied down, unless it involved a hot chick lashed to a bedpost under me. Live hard. F*ck harder. That’s how I liked it.

  Until Beatrice.

  She was an olive branch from the Motorcycle Club, the club’s own daughter, a peace offering.

  She’s everything I hate. Everything I’ve resisted. Everything I suddenly want to claim, starting with those curves driving me crazy.

  And now I’ve knocked her up.

  The MC wants her back, but I’m not in a giving mood. She’s mine and I’m never letting her go.

  A fight’s headed my way, but I’m ready. She’s my woman, my wife, my property. I’ll kill anybody who tries to take her—or my kid—away.

  Note: this 67,000-word standalone Mafia romance novel contains mature themes and situations that might make some readers uncomfortable. This is the third book in the Cravotta Crime Family saga, but it is a standalone novel. Get the first books here: Married to the Bad Boy and Knocked Up by the Bad Boy!

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  License Note

  This book is available for purchase at Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from another retailer other than Amazon, it means the author was not compensated for it.

  JACK

  Music pounds from the floor-to-wall speakers, radiating outward. The waves shake into my leg, traveling upward to bury somewhere in my chest. The bass plays my rib cage like a drum, and I lift the cool glass to my lips—I don’t remember what the fuck I’m drinking—and I tilt my head back. A vague burning sensation fills my mouth as multicolored lights bleed into each other.

  Jesus, I’m wasted.

  I’m wasted a lot lately.

  A hand pounds my shoulder really fucking hard, and I turn around, glass in hand. The whole world turns with me in swirls of color. I’m ready to smash the drink in his face, but it’s only François. He gives me a look that boils my blood. That upturned nose and those haughty eyes condemn me.

  Go ahead and judge me, you fuck.

  Like anyone in my position would be sober.

  His mouth moves, and it takes a few seconds to work out what he’s saying. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Am I balls deep in some chick right now?”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “I came here to get laid, and I’m not leaving until that happens.”

  We went out tonight celebrating my last night of freedom, but so far it’s a fucking letdown. Johnny’s axe hangs over my neck, and I keep thinking about that instead of scoring easy pussy.

  “Keeping the boss waiting isn’t smart, Jack.”

  Fuck the boss.

  François’s jovial face falls ever so slightly as heat rises to my skin. It’s almost as if I said it out loud. Maybe I would say it if I had a death wish, but I don’t want to think about that piece of shit right now. My head turns, swimming in colors and perfume and the hundreds of bodies, smashed together. Ignoring him, I slide into the thick of the dance floor. I came here for pussy. One last wild night.

  Used to be that I had wild nights every fucking night. A new day, a new girl. Easy and simple is how I like it, and getting a hot piece of ass to follow me to bed was never hard. A roll of cash and a few soft words on their ears would usually do the trick, but some girls don’t go for that. Some girls want me to whisper something dirty in their ears. They want the filth. They want me to talk about making them come with my tongue. I’ll tell them how big my dick is. None of them believe me, and then it’s easy to persuade them to go somewhere so that I can show them privately. Some of them are wild for action. They want excitement in their lives. Then all I have to do is show the gun hanging at my hip and tell them that I work “in construction,” and they’re mine for the evening.

  There are beautiful girls everywhere, wearing shorts with tattered strings that brush over the swell of their nicely tanned asses, just begging for a squeeze. A tall blonde pushes her hair back shyly and smiles at me, but she’s not really my type. Nice tits though. I keep squeezing my way through, but it’s impossible to be heard, and I’m not about to throw a girl over my shoulder and walk out.

  This isn’t working. There are too many lights and sounds. Frankly I’m in danger of falling on my ass, and heat presses in on me from all sides. I feel like I’m in a straitjacket. By the time I make my way back to the bar, François is gone. He fucked off somewhere. Good.

  The bartender looks up as I arrive, making me a drink before I can even sit down. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was trying to take advantage of me. She knows who I am—the people I’m connected to. That alone keeps the drinks flowing all night.

  I sit down on the small black stool and eye the poured drink ruefully. There’s no fucking way I can have another one, not when I don’t even feel like I have limbs anymore.

  “Hey.”

  A timid, feminine voice filters through the bullshit blasting on the speakers, and I turn my head to the left.

  Wow.

  It’s like a mirage. A stunning girl sits on the stool next to mine. It takes a while for me to get the details of her into focus, like the white spaghetti-strap tank top she’s wearing, and the little red flowers decorating it. Her tits are perky and I have to resist the urge to look at her cleavage. She makes my cock throb. I look down her thin waist to the jeans sticking to her ass like skin and then back to her face. Long, highlighted blonde hair brushes her slight, feminine shoulders. She has a vulnerable look about her that is completely at odds with her amazing body. Her eyes are wide and blue, and there’s a small dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. A girl like her should be brimming with confidence, but instead she plays with her glass, her rose-painted fingernails running up the sides incessantly. It’s my job to notice people’s weaknesses. To assess and exploit. It’s my bread and butter, so to speak. This girl screams “inexperienced,” and my dick jumps at the thought of being the one to break her—to shove my cock inside her tight pussy and watch her shatter as I take her wide-eyed innocence.

  “Hey, sexy.” Goddamn it, I’m still drunk as hell.

  Thankfully she just smiles at me, laughter all over her face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Hello.

  “Oh, that’s one thing I already know.”

  She laughs, a bell-like sound. “Do you want to have a drink with me?”

  You can do anything you want to me, baby.

  I study her jittering ankle. She’s nervous. That’s cute. A smile spreads across my face, and I beckon to her with a finger. “Come here.”

  Pink rises in her cheeks as she hesitantly slides off the stool and takes a few steps toward me. I grab her wrist and yank her forward so that her body stumbles and then I pull her over my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck with a surprised gasp.

  “I’d rather have a taste of you.”

  For a moment she just eye-fucks me as the tiny freckles dotting her nose burn. My hands snake around her waist and I feel the heat of her burning through the thin fabric of her camisole.

  “That’s a pretty good line.”

  “Give me a fucking kiss.”

  I love feeling the weight of her on my lap. Her hair tickles my skin as she leans forward, her pale lips hovering over my face. Sweetness flows over my tongue a
s I catch her bottom lip, crushing my mouth against hers. A spicy, ginger smell wafts from her hair, which is as smooth as silk. There’s nothing like having a gorgeous woman on your lap. Nothing like having a gorgeous naked woman on your lap, playing with your clothes and ready to do your bidding. Fuck, my slacks tighten just thinking about it. I want to feel her smooth skin gliding in my hands, and I want her to feel my rock-hard cock riding against her bare ass. Thank God I don’t get whiskey dick.

  She pulls away from me before I can stick my tongue down her throat. I watch how she sucks in breath through those small pink lips that I’d love to see wrapped around my cock. She’s close enough to kiss again. Close enough to do anything I want, which is to drag my tongue down her neck to her milky cleavage.

  Look at her tits. Do it.

  But I force myself to hold her gaze. My heart does a small flip when her lips pull away, revealing a row of white, even teeth. Damn, she has a beautiful smile.

  “You’re a very good kisser.”

  Blood pounds in my head, my vision still swimming with booze. “There are a lot of other things I’m good at. Want me to show you?”

  A laughing, sweet smile fills her face, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Let’s have a drink.”

  Disappointment settles in my guts and then I realize that she just wants to talk bullshit for a while so that she feels less bad about her one-night stand.

  “I can’t have another drink. Look at me.”

  “You don’t look very drunk.”

  “Trust me, I am.”

  But not drunk enough to not see how the skin on top of her breast jumps with her pulse. Or feel the blood pounding through my cock. Elle est belle en tabarnak. I only have half an hour before I have to leave, and I have to fuck this girl. For fuck’s sake, she made the first move. This should be easy.

  “But I can still give you the best night of your fucking life.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’ll make your toes curl, baby.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ll fill you up until you scream. You’ll never feel so sore and good after a night with my cock.”

  A few seconds of stunned silence follow my words and then I turn my head to kiss that throbbing vein in her neck. Her nails dig into me ever so slightly.

  Good. I have her.

  She clears her throat. “What makes you think you can even use that cock in your condition?”

  My blood churns at the salty tone in her voice. Fuck, I love girls with attitude. “Babe, I’ve fucked women when I was much more wasted than this.”

  “Yeah?” Her chest flushes with red. “And how many of them want a second time with you?”

  A smile hitches on my face. “All of them.”

  She shakes her head, not believing me.

  I slip my phone out of my slacks, still very conscious of her ass sitting on my lap, right over my cock. I show her my text messages, a dozen or so unread ones with random numbers. I pick one at random:

  OMG that was so hot last night let’s get together again r u free Friday?

  She snorts with laughter and then she goes back, selecting another one:

  I will literally suck your dick off if we go out again. I do anal.

  This time she throws her head back and laughs, the phone shaking in her hand. It’s a beautiful sound that makes a hot drop of pleasure run down my throat. I take the phone from her, chuckling.

  “See?”

  “Why do you get their numbers if you never call them back?”

  I shrug as a shard of unpleasantness suddenly bursts the bubble of my happiness. The truth is just far too depressing.

  “I don’t know.”

  She smiles at me, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that smile. My heart bumps a little when she slides her hands around my neck.

  “You’re here alone, aren’t you?”

  She nods as a deep blush fills her face. “Yeah.”

  Perfect.

  My mouth hovers over her ear. I brush back her hair with a finger and her shoulders shiver.

  “Do you want to go somewhere to talk—in private?”

  I figure that’s more polite than, I want to fuck you.

  Her head turns, her lips inches from mine. I’m startled by the warmth gripping my insides when an uncertain smile pricks her face. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She jerks her head to the side. “I don’t.”

  “Why offer to buy me a drink, then?”

  Her heated gaze falls back over me, strong but unsure. “’Cause I—” She breaks off with a chuckle of bitter laughter. “Never mind. I should go.”

  Her body slides from my lap, but I catch her before she can fall, wrapping both arms tightly around her small waist. She turns to me with a scandalized look.

  “Hey!”

  My chest rumbles with a small laugh. “I’m not letting your sweet ass out of my sight until I get what I want from you.” My mouth hovers right over hers. “Thirty minutes. Alone.”

  “Thirty minutes? What— Is that some kind of joke?”

  Her eyebrows arch high right before I spread my palm on her back and drag my fingernails down.

  “If I’m not the best fucking lay you’ve ever had after thirty minutes, I don’t deserve to call myself a man.”

  Fingers clench the back of my head.

  “Okay.”

  Awesome.

  I stand up from my stool and deposit her to the floor gently, holding out my hand for her to grab. She slides a smooth hand in mine and then I curl my arm around her waist, feeling her rapid breaths as her cheeks blaze. I leave a tip for the bartender and climb the stairs to the VIP rooms, which I hope are deserted. A quick glance through the glass doors tells me no.

  Fuck.

  I open the door to a room filled with soft purple leather couches, the black lights emitting an annoying dark haze over the whole room. A loud group sits in one of the couches, but there’s no way I’m fucking this girl with a crowd of people listening in, so I make a beeline for them.

  My eyes meet the surly gaze of some backwards-baseball-cap-wearing douchebag.

  “Johnny Cravotta needs the room emptied. Get out.”

  “Shit—he’s here?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  As a matter of fact he’s not, but it’s not like Douchebag will try to challenge a wise guy. They exchange worried looks and rise from the couch, filing out one by one as the door finally shuts us into silence.

  The girl’s arm trembles at my side and I take it, leading her to an empty couch. She sits down like a small bird and I sink into the leather beside her, curling an arm over her shoulders. Her curves press into my side as she twists her body, my blood pounding where she daintily touches my leg. Heat spreads across her pulsing chest. The red blush fills her skin like a fever. I slip my fingers under her white spaghetti strap and caress her shoulder. I have half a mind to pull it down. She’s not wearing anything else underneath— Holy fuck; I’m hard as a rock.

  Her tremulous voice breathes out again. “Do you have a girlfriend? Wife?”

  Not yet.

  “No.”

  It’s fun watching her squirm. Desire parts her lips as I continue my slow massage of her shoulder. Her eyes keep lingering on my face—my lips. Blonde hair shifts, obscuring her face from view.

  “I—uh—fuck,” she laughs into her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  My other hand touches her chin, and she turns back toward me. Warm breath mists over my mouth and for a moment I can’t hear anything but the roaring sound of my blood.

  “You shouldn’t be shy.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because a girl like you gets whatever she wants. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I just—”

  I hear her sharp intake of breath just before I close in the few inches between us. My lips touch hers as the hand playing with her shoulder snakes into a tangle of her hair. Hea
t smolders between us as she kisses me back, hesitant at first and then more forceful. She shoves the jacket from my shoulders and finds the space under my neck to touch my bare skin. Then I’m on fire—my hand falls down her shoulder to grab one of her tits. The fabric is so fucking thin that I can feel the stiff peak of her nipple. My thumb caresses the hard nub and a high, desperate sound leaves her mouth to enter mine.

  Jesus Christ.

  I want this fucking girl. I want her tits in my mouth and her pussy swallowing my cock, but I only have a half hour before I really have to leave.

  Pick up the fucking pace, Jack.

  She pulls back and I inwardly groan as she gives a little shake of her head.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

  “Me too.” My hand reaches down her back, grabbing the edge of the camisole and dragging it up, over her skin. Her eyes widen like saucers as I lift it over her creamy white globes and all the way up. I fling the camisole away and cover her tits with my hands. Fucking gorgeous tits. “I’ll fuck you really nice and fast—that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  I’m distracted by the feeling of them in my hands, and a low growl issues from my throat when she nods.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her heartbeat slams into my hand and I just want to rip the rest of her clothes off, but she drags her fingers up and down the back of my neck.

  A smile staggers across my face. “It’s Jack.”

  “I’m Beatrice.”

  “Hello, Beatrice.” My mouth fastens over her nipple and she gasps as I take the other one between my thumb and forefinger, pinching hard as I drag my tongue over her skin and suck. She clutches my neck and digs her fingers, letting out a loud moan that surprises me.

  I might as well taste all of her. I did promise to be the best lay she ever had.

  “Stand up, sweetheart. Do it now.”

  My teeth bite into her wonderful, jiggling tits before I smack her ass. I see the red mark blazing on her white skin as she pulls away to stand up in front of me shyly. Her lips are plump and wet, and the way her hair looks slightly mussed up makes me want to bend her over the coffee table. She sucks in her bottom lip and bites it. My cock throbs, growing along my leg like a steel pipe.