His Brat: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 4

  I breathe in and out, but when his hand finds the small of my back, I arch despite myself, needing to bring him closer to my center. He gently pushes me down, a hand firmly placed on the small of my back, moving my ass up. I bring my hands to my face and bite my knuckles, turning my head to the side. I can't see anything through the blindfold, but I can hear him taking in long, low breaths.

  "Please..." I beg, even though I don't know what for.

  I hear water dripping and then there's a warm softness between my legs. I part them instinctively, letting him touch my pussy with the hot towel. He wipes the blood away gently, and the warmth is so good I feel vibrations going down my back.

  "So good," I moan. "That feels so good."

  His finger grazes my lips to shush me, and I moan against the tip. I hear something clinking and then an insane rush hits me when he places something impossibly cold against my ass.

  An ice cube.

  He circles it around my ass and it feels so good, so calming and pleasant, I arch my ass up even higher. His fingers slide between my legs, and he rubs my now-clean pussy with his thumb. I whimper.

  He slides the melting ice cube all over my pussy lips, making me moan out loud. I don't dare ask for more, but he seems to know exactly what I'm thinking as he gently massages the melting ice into my lips. It feels so good on the sore spots that I arch my back like a cat.

  His hand forces me to go down again, putting all his weight onto my back to push me down. I wiggle my ass and he takes another ice cube, the one before having completely melted. He slides it over my pussy lips again, and when it touches my clit, I hiss out loud. There's a special kind of pain in the cold burn of the ice.

  Then I feel the cold inside me. I almost shriek, but he offers me his fingers and I suck on the index one instead. The ice cube is inside me, and the feeling is insanely erotic. It's so cold it almost hurts, but at the same time, it feels deliciously good. He holds me down firmly, but I raise my ass, and I feel the cube melting inside me.

  The fingers on his free hand join in, probing and poking inside me. I don't know what's running down my leg, the water from the ice or my own arousal. I graze his finger with my teeth, gently biting down and curling my own hands in the sheets.

  "Fuck," I mutter against his hands. "Fuck, more, please...."

  The cube has melted completely, but he's not done yet. He fucks my pussy hard with one finger, adding another one when he's stretched me enough. I'm moaning, forgetting about my shyness in an instant. It just feels too good to resist him.... To tell him to stop.

  His fingers leave my pussy with a wet sound and I blush, feeling lost and disoriented when he retreats. I try to feel for him on the bed, but instead I yelp when I feel something hot on my pussy. His breath....

  I try to resist, but he grabs my hands and holds them on the small of my back, crossed at the wrists. His mouth sinks into my pussy, making me mewl and scratch at the sheets as he eats me out.

  His tongue is dancing all over me, trying to find the spots that make me moan and beg for more. And when he finds one, he is relentless, sucking and biting and licking me until I feel like I'm going to come undone.

  "Please, I...” I start to say, the words interrupted by another long moan from my lips. “I'm gonna...."

  "Do it," he interrupts me. "Cum for me, kitten."

  That's not what I was going to say.... But I don't get a chance to tell him, because his lips wrap around my clit, flicking it with his tongue and making me thrash under him. He holds me down and fucks me with his tongue, and my legs suddenly give out as something so intense washes over me that I can't even stay up anymore. I feel myself gushing, and I cry out helplessly, because I've never felt more embarrassed... but I've never felt this needy, either.

  He laps at my pussy until I fall to the side, and when I'm shaking and utterly spent, he lies down next to me and gently takes off my blindfold. I open my eyes, looking into his—so dark they almost look black.

  "I...” I start to speak, the word scratchy in my throat.

  "It's okay," he tells me when I can't finish. "I know, kitten."

  He kisses the tip of my nose and pulls me into him. My body fits against his perfectly, and for the rest of the night, I let myself forget about everything. My mom, school, every single problem I've had this month. I let it all go to spend one night in the arms of a perfect stranger.

  3

  Max

  I wake up with the girl wrapped around me. Her legs are wound around my waist and her hair has formed a halo on my chest. It almost pains me to look at her, knowing I'll have to throw her out any moment now. I'm late as it is.

  Last night was incredible. It was insane.... After she confessed she was a virgin, I did my best to try to make it an unforgettable experience for her, and I had to bite my tongue every time I tried to tell her just how fucking amazing it felt to have her riding me. How addicted I became, in only one night, to the scent and taste of her tight pussy.

  I made myself swallow every word, because I know the girl and I have no future. She'll go home and I'll go back to my miserable life, remembering her for the rest of my pathetic existence.

  I unwrap myself from her limbs regretfully, facing the wrath of my cat as I get up. He follows me downstairs, where I feed him and make myself some coffee.

  My eyes keep going to the loft, wanting to be back in bed with her. Needing to feel her, taste her, fuck her again.... But I force my shoulders back, set with resolve. I'm going to forget all about her, because I need to do the right thing for once in my goddamn life.

  A few minutes later, I hear her turning in my bed, her bare feet hitting the floor. I turn away, trying to look like I don't care as I hear her padding down the stairs.

  Time to break her heart.

  "Hey," she says shyly, once she comes to the kitchen. I turn around to face her, and nearly lose it right there.

  She's stolen the shirt I wore last night. It's too big for her, almost going down to her knees. She's so fucking tiny, her hair messy and her eyes full of hope as she looks at me. And all I want to fucking do is pull her closer and fill her mouth with my cock, take another first from her.

  "Morning," I reply with a smile, my fingers clutching the coffee mug so tightly it's a small wonder it doesn't shatter in my hands.

  Her expression changes in an instant, and she looks like she knows something's wrong. Her pretty blue eyes darken, a shadow falling over her perfect features. I hate myself for doing this to her, hate that I'm going to end up breaking her heart. But this is the only way it can end.

  I clear my throat, saying, "I have a meeting I really need to go to. Do you want me to call you a cab or something?"

  She doesn't respond. Instead, she merely stares at me blankly, like she was the one who asked a question, and the intensity of her gaze makes me burn, makes me twitch in my tracksuit. Jesus, if this is what she looks like when she's angry, she's even more beautiful pissed off than she is calm.

  "Kitten, listen...” I start to say.

  "I don't need to listen to you," she hisses, glaring at me. "You think I'm something disposable that you can pick up in a bar and get rid of the next morning."

  "I don't," I say, shaking my head.

  I think you're so much more.

  I think you're perfect.

  I think I need to have you again.

  I don't say any of it.

  "Don't worry then, I'll let myself out," she finishes angrily, turning around. I catch her forearm, my body acting on its own without my permission. I pull her closer and she struggles in my arms, trying to get the fuck away from me. "Let me go. I'm not your property."

  "No?" I whisper into her ear, clasping her throat in one hand, the other going roughly between her legs and finding her wet and willing. She moans, parting her legs even though I know her pride doesn’t want to let her.

  I trace the outline of her pussy lips, her panties soaked.

  "You still want to leave?" I ask her, my voice hoarse against her ne
ck.

  "N-no," she struggles to say, and I chuckle against her skin.

  "That's a good girl."

  In that moment, I make the decision that will doom me.

  I can't fucking let her go.

  I want to keep this girl in my life, whatever it takes. It doesn't matter that my life will be ruined after today. Doesn't matter that I'm going to be following orders like a goddamned dog. All I want is her.

  "You're gonna do as I say," I tell her, pulling on her locks and stroking her neck. "Is that understood, kitten?"

  She pants under my touch and nods quickly, and I reward her with a kiss to her neck. She's still so fucking sweet. I guess the taste just never goes away.

  "But right now," I continue. "I need you to go the fuck home before an angry dad shows up at my door, trying to bite my head off. You need to be a good girl for me."

  I reach for my phone on the counter and put it in her hand.

  "Put in your number, save it as ‘Kitten.’ I'll call you tonight."

  "Promise?" Her voice is weak.

  I turn her to face me and her breath hitches in her throat as I pull her closer. I let her feel the stiffness of my cock, my hard chest pressing against her. "Promise," I say.

  Her hands shake as she enters her number in my phone, and I release her from my grasp. I lean against the counter and wait for her to finish. Once she's done, I hand her the clothes I stripped off her last night, even though I'd prefer having her naked all day.

  "Get dressed, I'll call you a cab."

  "Don't I get your number, too?" Kitten asks sulkily.

  "No." I grin at her, pulling on a long strand of honey-blonde hair. "You don't. I make the rules, not little girls."

  She sticks her tongue out, making me laugh before heading to the bathroom. Just as the door closes, my phone rings. Seeing the number flash across the screen, I groan and answer it after realizing I can't put this shit off.

  "Where are you?"

  She sounds pissed.

  "On my way," I reply, barely able to control myself.

  "You're fucking late," she bites out.

  "Deal with it. I'll be there in twenty."

  "Twenty?! Do you even realize—?"

  Click, call disconnected. I glare at the phone in my hand and quickly call a cab for my girl. Once she's out of the bathroom, I smooth down her messy hair and pull her in for a last hug.

  "When will I see you again?" she asks me sulkily.

  "I can't say, but I promise I'll call tonight," I tell her, my lips touching hers. Jesus fuck, she's addictive. I won't be able to let go of her. "That okay, kitten?"

  She nods with a sigh, and I hand her the jacket she wore last night before walking her outside. A cab's already waiting down the street, and I usher her inside it. As badly as I want to touch her, I can't fucking risk it.

  Her puppy-dog gaze follows mine as I tell the cab driver to take her home.

  "I still don't know your name," she points out.

  "I'll tell you tonight," I promise, tangling my fingers in her hair one last time. In my mind, I'm already making plans. Making an excuse so I can call her, her sweet voice the last thing I'll hear before I go to bed.

  "Take care, kitten. You were amazing last night," I confess, leaving a fleeting kiss against her lips. I'm so late for this thing, it's not even funny, but I wouldn't trade these last moments with her for the world.

  She waves goodbye as the cab takes off, and all I'm left with is a hard-on and the lingering scent of her sweetness.

  “Are you just about done?”

  Her voice is bitter and annoying as fuck. I look into her blue eyes, big and once innocent, but now clouded with judgement and worry. “Almost,” I reply in a clipped tone. “Don’t fucking rush me.”

  I scrawl my signature on the piece of paper slowly, taking my goddamn time. If this is going to work, she isn’t going to boss me around like this. I may be a pawn in her game, but I am sure as hell not going to be her puppet.

  Once I'm done, I push the paper towards her and she inspects it closely. Once she's finally satisfied, she gives the officiant a short nod and he takes the paper in his hands. I'm already getting up from the desk we’ve been sitting at, and she's putting her phone back in her expensive purse.

  "Congratulations," the officiant tells us, sounding bored as fuck. "I now pronounce you man and wife."

  She scoffs and I roll my eyes, possibly the only time we'll ever have a similar reaction, and I follow Annabel out of the building. She's silent until we step outside, placing a pair of huge sunglasses on her perfect, cosmetically-engineered face.

  Annabel Hudson is a stunning woman, there’s no doubt about that. Her blonde hair is coiffed into a perfect bob, framing her face in the most flattering way and hiding the stitches behind her ears perfectly. Her eyes are blue-grey and cold, her body tight and toned, not an ounce of fat on her. She makes up for her lack of height by wearing heels so high it's a wonder she doesn't topple over.

  Annabel Hudson is a horrible person. Cold, lifeless, calculating, mean and manipulative.

  She is also my wife for the foreseeable future.

  "What's next?" I ask her once we hit the pavement. She walks in front of me, making me feel like a fucking dog, always trying to catch up to her. "Do I get some time off or do I have to play the role of husband dearest while you deceive the media?"

  She stops, her face stone cold as she turns to face me. Her finger jabs me in the chest. "Fuck you, Max Rivers," she tells me. "And I will fuck you if you don't do as I say, I’ll make plenty sure of that."

  "It was just a question, darling," I reply in a syrupy-sweet voice. "Loosen up a little. Or best not, might pop your stitches and make your face sag."

  She hisses at me, putting her handbag on the other arm. "We have lunch with my daughter in ten minutes, so you're coming with me," she tells me simply.

  "You have a fucking daughter?" I ask her incredulously. Just fucking great. I get to deal with another problem on top of all of this shit. As if I need a toddler climbing up my leg, demanding more of my time.

  Though I did always like children. Maybe this girl will be the one bright spot in my bleak future.

  Annabel ushers me into her car and gives the driver sharp instructions to take us to an expensive lunch bistro. We don't look at each other the whole way there, her eyes firmly affixed to her phone, mine staring out of the window at my fleeting freedom.

  I wish I could've stayed with my girl this morning. Take a shower with her, wash her pretty hair and pull on it when it dried. Watch her wearing a shirt of mine, take hold of her ankles and fuck her so hard she'll never want anyone but me. I wish I had found out her name.

  I scroll through my phone until I see her number. She did what I told her to do, saving her name as ‘Kitten,’ even including an Emoji of a cat next to it. It makes me smile, but at the same time it makes me worry. I'm getting way too attached. Way too obsessed with her.

  Already.

  We pull up in front of the lunch place, and Annabel moves so quickly I'm sure the car is still moving when she gets out. I follow her slowly, taking my time, because I like getting on her nerves. Once we're finally walking inside the bistro, she gives me the brief I've been forced to know by heart for this fucked-up charade.

  "We met playing golf," she says. "You fell for my sweetness immediately."

  I scoff, and she glares. "Shut the fuck up, Max. You're not going to ruin this in front of my daughter. I care about her."

  "Yeah, so much that you neglected to mention her until now," I drawl, and she actually has the decency to blush. It's the first time she's shown me any kind of vulnerability, any sign that she's actually human under that hard robotic exterior.

  "Be nice to her," she orders me again. "And don't fucking roll your sleeves up, I don't want her to see your tattoos."

  "What-fucking-ever, Annabel," I reply, painting a smile on my face just like she does as soon as we arrive at the hostess stand. She introduces us and the woman
takes us to our table.

  I'm expecting to see a British nanny with a small toddler there, but instead, the table is empty. Annabel furrows her brows as we sit down.

  "Unlike her to be late," she says, and I yawn at the menu. I couldn't care less, to be honest. It's just one more thing for me to worry about when I already have my plate full of steaming shit.

  I give the waitress my order and so does Annabel. Once that's over and done with, we just sit there without a word to say to each other, shuffling awkwardly in our seats. I don't even want to pick a fight, I'm tired and worried and all I want is the feel of my kitten's mouth against mine.

  If this is what marriage is like, it's as close to hell as I could ever imagine.

  Eventually, having enough of the waiting, I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. I don't need to piss, but I use the time to splash some cold water on my face. I look at my reflection in the mirror.

  I definitely don't look like a typical lawyer. My dark hair is a little bit too long, my beard a bit too disheveled. And even though I'm wearing a suit with a crisp white shirt under it, you can still see my ink sneaking its way up my wrists.

  I pull my sleeves up with the sole purpose of pissing off Annabel. It’s a small rebellion, but at least it makes me feel a little better. I smooth down my hair before walking back into the restaurant. I see Annabel, still alone at our table, and for a second she almost looks vulnerable. I almost—almost—feel sorry for her. But then I remember the games she’s playing and my sympathy dissipates.

  I start walking towards the table when something catches my eye. Milk and honey. Hair so long it touches her butt. An outfit completely different to the one she wore last night—now she’s in a pleated skirt that extends down to her knees and a pretty white blouse with a black ribbon I want to tie around her neck.

  Our eyes connect across the room and I stare at her. Of all the places to see her again, I really wasn’t expecting to run into my kitten here, with my new wife, waiting to see her toddler.