Sins of a Bad Boy (The Original Bad Boys Book 1) (17 page)

“No, but I was only in there for thirty minutes tops.” William huddled closer to Charles. “What’s the other issue?”

“Two other female employees complained to Silk that some clients went further than what they paid for. Silk doesn’t know when to intervene because many girls moan and yell ‘stop’ in the midst of their high. But a client who only paid for fucking must not be allowed to spank or do any knife play, which is what happened. One patron used knife play on an employee who screamed ‘stop’ and actually wanted him to stop because she never signed on for that.”

“Where is she?” William lowered his voice again.

“Silk is driving her home, calming her, hopefully.”

“This is similar to what happened with Dechamps’s girl; they didn’t have boundaries. We need to set clear boundaries or else we’ll have more disagreements between employees and clients or possibly even another death soon,” William contemplated aloud.

“Which will create more issues for us. Let’s deliberate on how to handle this first thing in the morning.” Charles pointed at Ivy, who stood motionless, the vein in her forehead throbbing. “Can you still handle her?”

William sighed. “Yes. But not for long…”

“She’s quite entertaining, I have to say.” Then he rounded his desk. “I have plans now as well, so I’m leaving.”

William smirked, suspecting Charles had a date because otherwise, he wouldn’t leave the club. “With whom?”

Charles took his cane and hat from the brass rack in the corner. “A lady.”

“You dog! And you didn’t tell me,” William teased as Charles placed his hat on his head and bowed mockingly.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, William.” Then he winked at Ivy, who startled at this joviality but smiled before he closed the door behind him.

William privately thanked Charles for his cheery departure since he knew it was a ploy to sweeten Ivy, to attach her to them.

***

Back in William’s master bedroom, he was spiraling into a world of doubt. He’d had time to stew during their journey up, and his earlier suspicion strengthened.

Could she somehow have been involved in the theft?

No!

Had his cock overruled his mind when it came to Ivy? For days, he’d been engrossed in either ignoring her or fucking her. He detested her pull, her beauty, her appeal that had all been too distracting. 

At the foot of the bed, she stood with her chin held high, giving him a level stare, which, as usual, was glassy. Every time he saw her eyes, he was astounded by the intensely sky-blue color of her irises – a color that was one of a kind and unequaled in any woman he’d ever met. Shaking his head, he concentrated on his plan.

Circling around Ivy one time, he faced her and unfastened the cloak, throwing it aside without bothering to watch where it landed.

With gentleness, he caressed up her cleavage and to her throat with the back of his hand. The hunter admiring his kill before devouring it.

She softened under his touch and her eyes closed. He’d perfected the art of seduction a long time ago, yet, every so often, he wondered who was the master in this game of seduction they played. Was he or she rendered helpless? Even now, he throbbed to fuck her senseless. Until all she screamed was his name on her lips. Until all she wanted was his cock inside her. 

“Ivy, we
are
going to finish what I started earlier.” 

Her eyes flew open. “No.”

Lightning-fast, he gripped her throat. “Yes. Don’t ever say ‘no’ to me. Your body betrays your words. We both know you want to feel my cock in your ass. You just want to defy me now because of our little quarrel in Charles’s office,” he said against the side of her mouth.

Ivy covered his hand with hers, attempting to pry his fingers loose, but he was unrelenting. “I don’t want to fuck you now, because I’m unsure what your intention is.” 

He smiled cruelly and stepped to her back, his fingers still around her throat, and whispered from behind, “You’re always unsure of my intention. But still, you’ll surrender your body to me.”

“I won’t.”

“You’ve already done so, more than once. Your struggle has lost its strength.”

“Fuck you!”

“Tsk, tsk, wherever did a lady learn such language?” He’d often wondered that.

Ivy steeled her jaw, and he detected the headstrong attitude dominating her as he circled around her again.

With an unexpected push, he toppled Ivy across the bedsheets and followed. To move a little more up the bed, he lifted himself off her. What he didn’t expect was how she managed to get her knee up, giving him a solid blow to his ribs that doubled him up.

William struggled to catch his breath, rendered incapacitated for a second by this feisty woman. And that second was all she needed to shoot out from under him and mightily shove William onto his back to sit astride him and press her thumbs down hard into the base of his windpipe. 

It hurt badly, and it dawned on him that she must’ve learned this move, because she knew exactly how much pressure to apply.

“And now what?” William spoke with derisive sarcasm.

For a long, charged moment, they stared at one another. Neither wanting to surrender. Neither willing to back down.

Seconds ticked by. 

Both were fueled by furious lust. Lust that always required satiating – so it seemed. 

The pressure of her thumbs subsided, and William grabbed her hips, rolling them over on the bed. In the next instant, he had her wrist locked to the familiar bedpost and leaned down close to her face.

She flung her head to the side to avoid his seductive whisper against her lips so that now, his lips touched her cheek as he said, “You do know how to ruin a perfectly sensual moment.
But
I’m still fucking you unless...”

He reared back and she looked at him with brows raised.

“Unless you tell me honestly what happened in the fight club?”

“What do you mean?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Regarding the theft...”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it!”

“I don’t believe you,” William retorted.

She didn’t flinch, but true fear did blister across her face. She was possibly being truthful.

“Then we’re at an impasse,” Ivy said.

The corner of his lip tilted up. “No, we’re not.” 

William flipped her onto her stomach and pushed the dress above her hips at the same time that he hurriedly shoved down his shorts.

“You may choose,” he proposed as he lay on Ivy’s back, with her forehead planted on the mattress – she didn’t want to look at him – while he fitted his hand to her waist. “Tell me how you did it with the wallets, and I can make this pleasurable for you. Or...lie and I’ll drive my cock inside your ass without preamble. And that will hurt. It’ll hurt badly, Ivy.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it!” she cried and clenched her butt cheeks while William pushed against her, hardening from the feel of her soft ass rubbing against his dick. 

Ivy scratched his hip with her unrestrained hand, so he planted it beside her head.

“I’ve warned you about scratching!” he hissed and pressed his cock between her ass cheeks, sliding up and down.

“Stop it! I’m not lying, William.” Her tone was different, miserable. 

William tangled his fingers in her hair and jerked her head to the side, her cheek pressed against the mattress so he could see her face. As he cupped her chin, he nudged the head of his cock in her ass, ready to plunge inside. 

Tears were streaming down as she repeated over and over, “I’m not lying! I’m not lying!” Every time, her voice grew quieter.

He pressed the tip in, and she screamed in pain, then looked at him from the corner of her eye as she murmured brokenly, “I’m...not...lying.” 

Confusion marred every cell in his body. Never, never had William been in a situation where it was impossible to ascertain whether or not someone was telling a lie. Never had he been as affected by another person’s tears as he was in this instant. 

“Motherfucker!” he roared, unable to bring more harm upon her, battling between believing her or not, while grasping her hair hard. 

His forehead fell to her temple as she struggled to breathe through her cries, and he lifted himself off her.

As William stood beside the bed, Ivy fixed him with a pitiful look. Then emptiness followed. She appeared truly broken.

Yet it wasn’t satisfaction he felt. He didn’t quite know what emotion was troubling him. Raking back his messy hair, he started to stride from the room, but her voice stopped him when he reached the doorway.

“Why are you such a tormented soul? Why are you such an asshole?”

He pivoted on his heel, and she watched him as he paced back with a few determined strides. “Why are you such a talkative bitch?!”

She only retreated a bit when he got close and braced his palms on the edge of the mattress. But the words that were about to tumble from his lips died as he took in her teary, sad eyes, so he shut his mouth tightly, regaining his composure, and left.

A minute later, he returned with a glass of water.

“Sit up,” he said and pressed the glass into her free hand as she obeyed.

Their distrustful features locked, and she was noting far too much of his inner turmoil. He could tell by the way she examined him.

Exhausted from yet another consecutive weary night, he dropped back onto the bed as she placed the glass on the nightstand. 

Then she lay down as well, one hand above her head since she was cuffed to the bedpost. And of course, she started talking.

While he regarded the ceiling, he noticed her angling her body toward him.

“I didn’t steal the wallets, William. You know I didn’t or else you wouldn’t have stopped.” 

He stapled his fingers together, then folded them behind his head on the pillow.

She waited for a reply from him that didn’t come.

“I-I...What are your plans for me?” 

He shot her a sideways glance, not planning to engage in her conversation, and his blood flowed southward seeing her sexy pose. Without knowing, she was constantly enticing him. She lay half turned with the dress up to her waist, the curve of her hip erotic and her pussy hidden to him.

In turn, she witnessed his cock twitching as it grew.

“Can you undo the handcuff, William?”

“No.” He didn’t move a muscle, and after he’d closed his eyes, she continued – but not with words.

William felt a finger tracing his side, moving over tainted skin, yet she didn’t ask about the origin of the marks. She drew a slow, seductive line.

His first instinct was to recoil, but somehow, he didn’t. It was comforting to enjoy the caress while he kept his eyes shut.

“Why did you get your tattoos?” she probed.

“I saw tattoos on another fighter when I was twenty, and Charles actually knew an artist, who drew the design for me.” He predicted her next inquiry to be:
What do they mean?

But Ivy stunned him when she remarked, “The feather that breaks off into birds is beautiful. And I saw the dog tag has no inscription. It seems like you’re searching for something, or someone.”

Then her entire palm stroked over his pectorals, towards his abs, down to the V of his hips, and up again. The simple touch like a sedative to his rattled nerves. 

“Why are you so tormented, William?” she asked again while he shuddered under her strokes.

Sensations overwhelmed him, and he was lost in his mind for a long time, probably minutes.

Eventually, he countered with his own question, “Why do you assume I’m tormented? Perhaps this is just who I am.”

“No one is just like this. I think you’re not at all the William you portray. The fighter, the businessman. Do you even know?”

“Know what?”

“Who you are?” Her fingers teased his skin.

“Yes. I’m a man who never wants to be poor again.”

“So everything revolves around gaining wealth for you?”

“Yes. Money is indispensable. Money makes the world goes round. Money equals power. Poverty destroys the spirit. Helplessness destroys the spirit. “

“But money doesn’t make one happy.”

“It makes life much easier though. What’s the price of happiness when you don’t have money? People spit on you; they abuse you; they hurt you—” He stopped himself from confessing too much, and for a second, her movement ceased as well. Yet she continued, and so did he, “Society thrives on the rich.”

“You want money, the money that floats around in society, but you seem to hate that same society? The society you’re part of.”

“I’m not part of that society,” he defended. “I don’t live in that world like you do. They’re my clientele, which is the only reason why I put up with them.”

“So you’d rather be alone forever?”

“That sounds like Utopia to me,” William replied wryly, still with his eyes shut.