Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (2 page)

“How was that, sweetheart?”

“
Fucking
amazing.”

A glow of pride hits my chest as she stares at me, her chest still heaving.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Wait—where are you going?” She grabs my hand, stopping me.

“Back to the bar.”

Her face falls as I slide my hand out of her grasp, but she doesn’t say a word. She can’t complain. I just got her off.

Energy pulses in my chest as I leave the VIP room and enter the bathroom to wash her juice from my hands, looking up into the mirror at my scowling face. The need to have a naked girl in my arms still blazes under my skin like fire. Fucking her would have been like eating the shitty chocolate bars I used to get as a kid. They crumble in your mouth and by the end of eating the whole thing, you’re left with the same craving.

The cloud of smoke blasts my face as I walk back into the bar, scanning it briefly. Women—so many fucking women. None of them catch my eye, and I’m headed back to my seat before I see a girl who makes the one I almost fucked look like a wilted hag.

I don’t recognize her. This is supposed to be a closed event—just a little celebration for my men—but I’ve never seen her before. I know everyone’s girlfriend, but not her. Fuck, who gives a shit how she got here?

The first thing I notice is her body, wrapped up in a skintight lacey black dress that shows off her curves. I can make out the faint line of a G-string under the fabric, and my mouth waters just thinking of pulling it right off her thighs. She crosses her legs, exposing a length of tantalizing flesh. Then my eyes travel up that body I can already see naked, all the way to the tits nearly popping out of her dress. It’s fucking sinful. A sliver of her bra peeks out, and she keeps pulling the top of the lace over it, only for it to slip back down.

No, don’t do that. By all means, let your tits go free.

She has a haughty-looking face, like a girl who usually gets what she wants. Her eyebrows arch high. Dark. Dramatic. That’s what I’m getting from this chick. She’s gorgeous. Makes the place burn a little brighter.

Only, there’s a problem.

François is already hitting on her.

How the fuck did he get here so quickly?

He leans beside her, his body turned toward her. She laughs at something he says, a beautiful smile lighting up her face, and a surge of jealousy burns in my chest. She moves suddenly, her eyes roaming through the crowd. They fall over mine. They jump back and hold me. And a grin hitches on her face as she studies me.

Good thing I’m the boss.

I make a beeline for François, trying in vain to think of something nicer than telling him to fuck off, but let’s face it. I didn’t become boss by being a nice guy. There comes a point where you stop giving a fuck. Taking what I want, whenever I want has served me pretty fucking well so far, but there are rules, of course. I can’t fuck around with anyone’s girl, but she’s not his girl. She’s fair game, except nothing is fair when I’m involved.

She notices my approach before I even get there, and a small blush fills her cheeks as I approach her. Damn, she’s gorgeous.

But I have to get rid of him first. I touch François’ shoulder and lean in slightly, talking low enough so that the girl can’t hear a word I’m saying. “I need you to check the VIP rooms. I don’t want anyone doing drugs in my bar.”

He blinks at me.

It’s a bullshit request. He knows it. I know it.

The faintest glint of resentment shines in his eyes as he nods in affirmation. “All right.”

I can just hear his thoughts:
Fucking cock-block.

It’s a dick move, but I wouldn’t be what I am today if I just stood aside and let people take what I want.

He moves away from the girl, giving her a second glance as if wondering if he should ask her for her number, but I smile at him.

Don’t even fucking think about it.

He keeps walking and I take his seat.

She turns her head toward me, a seductive smile on her pretty face. “That was a pretty epic cock-block.”

A smile stretches my face. “I guess I couldn’t help myself. I mean, look at you.”

“What about me?”

Blood rushes to my chest when she brushes her fingers across my knee. Heat blazes through her fingertips into my slacks, and for a moment I don’t know what the fuck she just said. Now that I’m close to her, I see that she’s young. At least ten years younger than me. It doesn’t seem to bother her one bit. She looks me up and down, sucking in those plump lips.

Jesus Christ.

“I hate to break it to you, but your tits are popping out of your dress.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh and notices that her dress slipped down again. It distracts me. She tugs at the lace, and her tits bounce, and I think about just yanking it down.

“Guys will come after you like flies on honey when you look like that.”

“Are you saying that I look nice?”

“I’m saying that I’d like to fuck you.”

For a moment her eyebrows lift in surprise, but then her chest shakes with laughter, her light-brown hair hanging in front of her face.

I fucking want her.

“Is that your opening line with all women, or do I get the special treatment?”

“You get the special treatment.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re wearing that dress, sweetheart.”

Her face burns a light shade of pink. “I borrowed it from my cousin.”

“You look hot.”

“It’s not my size.”

I smile as she fiddles with her empty drink, watching how her pupils dilate as I lean in closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: guys don’t give a shit what the dress looks like. We care about how
you
look in the dress.”

Hunger blazes in those dark-brown pools even as she withdraws her hand from my knee. “Can you actually use that cock of yours? Or is this alpha-male posturing compensation for something else?”

“You have some balls to insult me in my own bar.”

“It’s an honest question.”

She does not know who the fuck I am.

“You must not be familiar with my reputation.”

“How am I supposed to when I don’t even know your fucking name?”

This could be interesting.

“I’m Johnny.”

She uncrosses her legs as she gives me a scorching look, and I’m tempted to grab her thigh just to make my cock shut up.

“Maya.”

Beautiful name. Exotic.

I grasp the strands of hair around her face and slowly push them across her soft skin, tucking them behind her ears. A barely suppressed shiver runs through her body as I take my hand away.

She wants me.

“You should come home with me, Maya.”

An unspoken need simmers just beneath the surface of her skin. She trembles as if she waits for me to touch her again, but her voice strengthens. “At least buy me a fucking drink.”

I almost laugh at the hostility in her tone, but she’s right. My manners flew out the goddamn window the moment I laid eyes on her.

I signal the bartender for another drink, but Genevieve lets a glass fly from her grip when I catch her gaze. The glass shatters on the floor at my feet and causes a small commotion—a couple raised voices and a smattering of applause. She looks at the broken pieces and then at me, her cheeks burning.

It’s a fucking glass. Who cares?

Jesus.

“Clean it up.”

Red-faced, Genevieve nods and steps around the bar, apologizing profusely.

For the life of me, I don’t understand why people think I’m going to shoot them in the face for an accident. Maya’s hand touches my knee again, and it’s like a lure for my cock.
Jesus Christ control yourself
. She looks at my with a flirty, little smile.

“Everyone acts like you’re some kind of tough guy.”

I am a tough guy.

The bartender sweeps the pieces of glass into a dustpan, the crinkling sound distracting me.

“What gave you that idea?”

“That bartender looks like she’s going to cry.”

Maya raises an eyebrow at her. The bartender hurries into the employees-only area even though there’s a trash can right behind the bar. Maya gives me an accusatory stare, and then I’m struck with the fact that she really,
really
doesn’t know who I am. She just thinks I’m some run-of-the-mill asshole hitting on her in a connected bar. Fuck, she might not even know it’s connected.

Jackpot.

“So you own the bar?”

It’s rare to bump into someone who doesn’t know who I am, especially at places that I own. I search her eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but I don’t see anything but polite curiosity. There’s no point in enlightening her, so I decide to keep her in the dark.

“Yeah,” I say with laughter in my voice. “I’m the owner.”

It’s more like I own the entire city.

Maya takes the drink from the other bartender, sipping it. She swivels in the chair, her legs bumping into mine. Fuck. She’s a fucking tease. To prove my point, she crosses her legs, exposing another mile of skin.

“What’s it like owning a bar?”

What
is
it like?

“Ah—you know. I sit around and bullshit with customers. Hit on beautiful girls. It’s not bad.”

“Yeah?” She grins. “Are you on the clock right now?”

“We can leave anytime you want.”

“Always with the sex.” Although she hardly looks offended. The way she keeps eyeing my cock, it’s as though she’s screaming for me to fuck her.

“It’s taking everything inside me not to throw you over my shoulder and bring you into my office.”

She sucks in air, the sound sharp. “And then what?”

I’ll tell you and then what.

I lay my hand right over her knee, and she doesn’t move a muscle, but a red flush fills the skin right above the swell of her tits. We’re so close that I can smell the perfume she wears. It’s light and refreshing, like spring flowers. I want that smell all over my sheets, clinging to my naked skin. Her legs part ever so slightly as I knead her skin.

“And then I’d bend you over my desk and fuck your tight cunt until you came all over my cock. I’d take you home and shove my tongue deep inside that pussy until you moaned loud enough to wake up the neighbors.”

Maya can’t look away from me. Her gaze lingers on my mouth, my body, and the hand touching her knee. “You really know how to talk to a girl, huh?”

“That’s how I talk to girls who dress like that. I’m sorry, did you not come to this bar looking for a good time?”

I squeeze her knee again and she makes another small gasp. A series of emotions cycle through her face. She’s offended, scared, turned-on. Christ, the innocent act gets a rise out of me. The more she reacts, the more I want to push her. Fuck, I just want to shove my hand all the way inside her dress and feel how soaking she is.

“I
am
having a good time.”

Fucking tease.

I’m surprised that I’m enjoying this. When’s the last time I flirted with a girl? It’s usually very cut-and-dried. I take their hand, give them a look, and they’re mine for the night. Low effort. There’s a part of me that really gets off on that, but I like this even more.

Her skin glows like a heat lamp. I inch up her thigh and knead her with my thumb. The sounds she makes cut the air between us, and then finally she takes my hand off her thigh. She turns it over and runs her fingers on my calluses. It’s not as though she’s touching my dick, but it’s intimate. The space between us feels comfortably warm and the sound from the bar disappears to a low murmur. She smiles at me, and my heart pounds hard, making my chest jump.

Good God, I want to fuck her.

“What’s your story?”

“I’m just a girl at a bar.”

She squeezes my hand and I twist it around so that I’m covering her. The relentless beating against my chest slows down, and then I think about filling my hands with her tits and it starts up again.

“Everybody’s got a story.”

“You don’t want to know mine.”

“As long as it ends with you in my bed, I’m okay with it.”

I wish I could drag her off her stool and onto my lap.

Her head turns toward the door, which seems a million miles away from us. She doesn’t say a word, but I know what she’s thinking:
I should leave.

“
Stay
. Have a drink and talk to me.”

Something in my voice reels her back in. Her eyes lock with mine. Heat builds up in my chest.

“You don’t want to talk to me.”

I want to fuck you.

“Yes, I do.”

She pulls her lips into a smirk.

“There are just other things I’d rather be doing with you.
To you
.”

“
Shit
.” She seizes her drink and sips as if to give herself a reason to avoid looking at me.

I won’t let her.

I stand up from my stool and get close enough so that I can slide my hand over the back of her chair, my fingers tickling her arm. She takes a huge gulp of her drink and a bright flush fills her cheeks as the booze works its way through her veins, or maybe it’s the fact that she finds me irresistible. She takes my tie in her hand, starting at the knot at my throat. Then she slides slowly down the long length. What would it feel like to have her hands do the same thing to my cock?

“I shouldn’t.”

My finger glides under her jaw and she follows the pressure without even thinking. Her nerves are all over the place. A strong heartbeat jumps into my fingers, and it surprises me for a moment. This is a girl who looks like she’s down to fuck, as if she does it all the time, but she shakes in my hands.

“You really,
really
should.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

“Almost always.”

I reach around her head and tighten my fist in her hair. My lips crash against hers right before she whispers, “Fuck.” She sighs into my mouth and leans into me, her hands gripping my waist. Then her tits crush against my chest, and my cock strains against my slacks as if it’s about to bore a hole into the fabric.

Sweetness swirls in my mouth, like the drink I gave her. Her tongue is even sweeter, and yes, I’m shoving my tongue down her throat in the middle of this bar. I don’t give a fuck. It’s instant chemistry between us. A surge of heat straight to my cock makes me curl my fingers in her hair.
Fuck, I could sweep my arm across a table and bend her over right now.