Bad Girls Do It Better (Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (27 page)

My hand reached down, running my fingers along the length of his cock as it stayed nestled between my slit.
Holy fuck! He’s hard!
I couldn’t bear another minute of him not being inside of me. I dared him.

“You talk a mean game, Troy, but why don’t you show me what you got? Show me why I’d
want
to fuck you again.”

My voice was shaky and nervous, but I wanted him to see me as a challenge. Teasing him as I finished my last word, I locked my legs around him and gave his hips a good squeeze. My eyes stayed focus on his big cock still resting between my legs. His dick jerked as thick, pre-cum pulled and dribbled off the head of his tip. Before I could stop myself, I swirled my fingers through it and sucked it off the tips of my fingers. That was all it took. I was hooked on his manly, savory taste and it was all it took to rile him up. The animal inside of him forced his way back inside me.

“Pulling fucking stunts like that will get a little girl like you in big trouble,” he growled as he buried himself into me.

His hands grabbed and pinned both of my wrists above my head as he held them against the mattress. Then he resumed thrusting into me, penetrating me faster because this time, my pussy was dripping wet. Pleading and panting, my whole body fell apart. Hot, wet and wanting, I couldn’t wait for him to finish fucking my brains out. And he did just that. His deep, rough thrusts shook my whole body. My lips parted, forming a perfect O, as I started to cum.

“That’s it, babe, keep fucking cumming,” he commanded me. If only it were that damned easy. “I wanna feel that tight, slick pussy of yours gripping my dick until I drain my balls.”

I completely lost it. Never in my life had I came so hard. There had been plenty of times when I’d masturbated, but
nothing
compared to the electrifying orgasm I was having with Troy.
Fucking shit!
My mouth popped open as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Troy!” I managed to say.

There was something about being fucked by a bad boy.
The bad boy.
He was more than twice my size, and the way his hard body pressed mine into the mattress fueled my hormones and got me higher than any amount of weed could. He fucked me relentlessly, harder and deeper as I exploded around him.

Suddenly he stopped. Using the weight of his huge body, he pressed me deeper into the mattress as he held still.

“Goddamn, you’re fucking
tight!
”

His dick pulsed deep inside me, making me feel every jerk and twitch it had to offer as he clenched his teeth and grunted. I could feel his hot cum flooding my pussy as he emptied his balls into me. The feeling of his cum pumping into my pussy pushed me over the edge and I came again, this time with him. We laid there, a tangled, hot sweaty mess. My pussy was still clenched around his cock, refusing to let go until he started to soften.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he panted as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. You sure you’ve never done this before?” he grabbed his t-shirt and wiped his dick clean before tossing it to me.

I could feel his seed already trickling out of me. Using his shirt, I wiped my thighs and my middle before I sat up in his bed. “First time.”

“Yeah? I might have to invite you over more often then.” He walked over to his dresser and packed a bowl. “Here,” he lit it and handed it to me.

In my stoned stupor, I dumbly replied, “Does that mean we’re dating?”

“You’re shitting me, right? This is what you consider dating? Fuck me,” he mumbled, taking a hit from the bowl.

My ears turned red and I slid down on the bed, covering my face with the sheets. Trying to fake a smile, I glanced down at the floor.
I should’ve known better.
He doesn’t date girls, he made that very clear. Suddenly, I felt stupid sitting in his bed naked as he stared at my tits through the paper thin white bedsheet. I started to reach for my clothes when he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m only fuckin’ with you.” Staring at him, I tried to figure out whether or not he was sincere. My mouth opened, but nothing would come out. “You hungry? I sure as fuck got the munchies. Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

Holy fuck, is he serious?
This defies everything he’s told me. He doesn’t do dating, relationships, romancing and dinners. “Starving.”

“I’d say you earned a meal today,” he grinned. “I’ll take you to Michael’s.”

“Michael’s?” It was a well-known bar and pub, not exactly a place I’d ever been before. My dad had told us stories about that place, and I knew better than to go. But still under his spell, I couldn’t say no.

“Yeah, they serve me there, and their food is the bomb. Get dressed, let’s go.”

We hopped onto his Harley after we were dressed. Oddly, the sun seemed brighter and the birds chirped louder. Wrapping my hands around him and holding him close was better than trippin’ shrooms. I was going on a
date
with the biggest bad boy in town—one of the top prospects for the Lords of Sin. With him, I never worried about what others thought or who gave a fuck. All of my thoughts faded into his huge, muscular frame as I held onto him. He had the ability to beam me into a different universe, a dark paradise that I never wanted to come back from. 

Our dinner was cut short when I came back from the ladies room. He’d just ended a call when he told me we had to go.

“Grab a to-go box, babe. I gotta drop you off.” His sharp jaw line was flexing as the tension in his face continued to build. I knew something was wrong, but there was no way he was going to tell me what it was. I tried pressing him, but he was tight-lipped. Not wanting our date to end, I offered to go with him as he pulled in front of my dad’s house.

“It’s best you stay home, babe. The shit’s too dangerous.”

My heart pounded like never before as we sat with his bike idling, him waiting for me to get off and go inside. I wanted to spend more time with him and I was scared for him. The Lords of Sin were nobody to fuck with, and if they needed him, it meant trouble was brewing on the home front. I tried one more time. “Troy, let me go with you. Tell me what’s going on, please?”

His icy stare pierced me as he looked right through me. “It’s nothing that concerns you, and you shouldn’t be so nosy. Get inside.”

I narrowed my eyes as I climbed off the back of his bike. “If that’s how you want it, then fine!” The way he’d said, “Get inside,” was colder than the North Pole. He’d hurt my feelings and broke my heart into tiny pieces. I’d heard him use that tone before, but it was usually with the bimbos at school who were trying to hang on his arm, annoying him as he walked down the hall.

He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around before he shook the living shit out of me. “Don’t you fucking dare, Raven!” his voice boomed. “I don’t need any of your shit right now. It’s club business. My brothers come first, and always will. You just march that hot little ass of yours right into your dad’s house and stay put.”

Club business.
That must be what they teach these guys to say. I could picture the president of the MC handing out prospect cuts saying, “The first thing you need to understand is club business. And nobody else needs to know it.” I hated those words. I could already sense how far down the ladder I was—I didn’t even have a foot off the ground. It was evident that the club meant everything to him, and he was only a prospect. The look on my face must’ve betrayed my thoughts.

“Look, Raven, I can’t be fucking bringing you in where you don’t belong. That’s the last damned thing either of us need.”

My head dropped as I took my walk of shame up the sidewalk leading to the front porch. Not another word uttered from his lips to me, he turned his back and revved his engine as he sped down the street. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d soon learn that this was the norm. Anytime we were out on a date or hanging out, the instant the club called about
club business
—the two words I hated most in the English language—meant that our time had come to an end and I was chopped liver. But I relished in every minute that we did get to spend together—at least until the end of my senior year. That’s when everything would change forever.

“Got a fresh body for you today,” Matty strolled into the lab.

“Spare me,” I rolled my eyes. “What’s the scoop on this one?” I asked as I finished the autopsy on Mr. Grant who had died the previous evening. Fortunately, he passed away peacefully in his sleep from a brain aneurysm. By the looks of my latest arrival, he didn’t look as lucky.

“Name’s Scott Theobold, he’s 27. The department got a call early this morning from a hysterical elderly couple who found his body near Elm and Clay, by the park.”

Walking over to the corpse, I unzipped the body bag. “He’s one of the Charger’s.” I recognized the cut he was wearing right away. I’d seen my fair share of the MC members from the area in my lab to know who they were affiliated with. “What’s his story?”

“From what we could tell, he was a newer member of the club. Their president, Dalton, confirmed his status. He was only patched in eight months ago. Shot four times in the chest, but that’s all we know so far.”

Sergeant Matthew Donnelly, or Matty as I called him, poured himself a cup of coffee. I’d known him since high school when we used to run in the same crowd—with the bad boys. Yep, that’s right. Sgt. Donnelly used to be a prospect for the Lords of Sin MC back in the day. Just like I used to be in love with one. But as we grew older, we both ended up going on respectable paths rather than the way of the MC. His top priority now was crime control, which meant that anytime there was a murder, he’d pop up in my lab.

“Are you going to stand there sipping coffee or are you going to get me a copy of the police report?” Sometimes he was so absent-minded. It was like babysitting a fucking kid—and he kind of looked like one, too. At least now he did. He used to have longer hair, kind of messy. But now, he had it neatly parted to the site and slicked down with a glob of gel. In a way, he kind of reminded me of a younger version of Andy Griffith.

“I’m already on it,” he handed me a copy of his report. “You look beautiful today. Got plans this evening?”

“None that involve the Sergeant of Fresno County,” I shot an icy stare in his direction with a cocked eyebrow. I’d learned to imitate Troy quite well when I dated him—and it came in handy more times than I’d like to admit.

“So brutally painful,” he put his hand over his heart.

We’ve gone out to dinner a few times, but only as friends. I know he wants more, but when you find a good friend who’s known you for years and knows where you come from, it’s a good thing to hold onto. Besides, there’s no way I’d ever date a guy like him. He was decent looking, but his personality was all over the map.

“Matty, you know we’re just a couple of good old friends. Let’s leave it at that.”

After being with Troy, I hadn’t dated much. Not many men compared to him. Sure, it was only a high school love affair—sex affair was more like it—but nobody possessed the same bad boy qualities that he did. Nor did they make my pussy drip with anticipation as my panties melted.

“Don’t think your pale skin, dark hair and weird clothes scare me away,” he slowly sipped his coffee as he lingered around the lab, eying me like I was on tonight’s dinner menu. “Goth chicks are hot.”

“Matty, I think women in general scare you.” Examining the corpse, I spotted the marking right off the bat. “We’ve got another one,” I pointed to his abdominal cavity.

“Another one?” Amber, my understudy, asked.

“Yep, right there. Another Lords of Sin symbol carved into his stomach,” I pointedly said.

“I’ll be damned,” Matty commented. “Plain as daylight. An upside down cross.” He walked around the exam table staring at the symbol, trying his best to look intelligent. “How many does this make now? I lost count with so many turning up lately.”

Yeah, I bet you did.
As scatterbrained as he was, I bet he couldn’t remember the last time he took a shit. How he became Sergeant is beyond me. It had to be a lot of ass kissing and sucking up. “Four, including this one.” I put on a pair of rubber gloves while Amber grabbed the clipboard to document markings and injuries. “I don’t understand why we’ve been seeing so many of ‘em come through here with the Lords’ symbol,” I shook my head. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

The body count was piling up fast with their symbol carved, burned or cut into the corpses. Four men, all local MC members from various clubs, sporting the Lords’ symbol. It had been ages since I’d seen Troy, and there was no telling what the boys were up against. He’d always been so closemouthed back in the day, and that was before he was even a fully patched member.

“I need to go grab the voice recorder and a pen that works,” Amber left Matty and I staring at the gory corpse. Gaping flesh with dried blood occupied most of his chest and stomach. The hunks of meat dangling from his corpse made me lose my appetite for lunch.

“Not sure, but the Lords have not been talkative any time I or one of my guys try to question them. And, they all claim they didn’t have anything to do with the recent increase in these gruesome murders.”

“I’d imagine. Have you talked to everyone at their clubhouse? Even the hangers on, old ladies and the filthy strippers that frequent there? Maybe one of them might know.”

“Yep, but no one’s talking.”

Figures as much. If Troy wouldn’t talk as a prospect back then, there was no way any of the MC would tell the cops anything now, especially if they were at war.

As I studied Scott Theobold, I noticed that his murder wasn’t as horrid as some of the others that had already came through the lab. “Looks like a clean kill compared to the others you brought me,” I remarked to Matty. “They were all beaten pretty badly before they were killed when you’d brought them in.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “except that one guy.”

How could I forget him?
His head was completely caved in. Bashed beyond recognition. I’d handled some terrifying autopsies before, but  never seen nothin’ like that before.

“The thing that I don’t get is why they’re all so brutal? Beaten, wounded and shot multiple times. These are definitely vengeful murders.”

“Well, our good ‘ole boys from Fresno claim it ain’t them. I have a feeling we’re going to have to dig pretty deep to get to the bottom of things,” he poured himself another cup of coffee. “Problem is, most of ‘em got rap sheets longer than an anaconda.”

“Have you talked to the other MCs? See if they have any leads?”

“They’re not talking either,” he tossed his Styrofoam cup in the trash. “I better get going, the lieutenant wants to have a meeting about the MCs and she’ll have my ass if I’m late.”

“Take care,” I offered as I studied the engraved symbol in the cadaver’s abdomen. “I’ll keep you posted if I find anything else on our latest victim.”

I wonder if I should reach out to Troy.
It’s been forever since we’ve spoken to each other, but maybe he can give me some insight on all these corpses piling up in my lab. Though, I’d be crossing numerous personal and professional lines as it’s not my place to insert myself in the middle of a murder investigation. But with all these bodies coming in with their marking, it makes me wonder if the MC is in some sort of trouble.

The last time we talked was right after our high school graduation when things between us ended not-so-good. All throughout high school, I’d been a party girl. The Goth, pot-smoking freak who ran with the wrong crowd. Troy was part of that crowd, as well as his best friend Vic, and even Matty. If it hadn’t been for my infatuation with the dead, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I find that working with the dead is more comfortable and intellectually stimulating than working with the people around here. Becoming a medical examiner was probably the best thing I ever did for myself. Troy and I were a dangerous couple, constantly feeding off of one another. The only time I’d ever been arrested was once when I was with him for having hot, wild sex on the back of his bike in an alley.
Goddamn, I miss dirty alley sex!
The only thing they charged us with was public disturbance, though. Who knows what path I would’ve went down if I’d stuck around here, hanging onto Troy’s every lead and command. When I came home from school and started working for the county, I was stunned to see that Matty was a cop. He was a lowly prospect when I’d left for Texas to embark on my new journey. When I returned to Fresno and reunited with Matty, he filled me in on the fact that Troy was serving time. Just a short sentence, though. They couldn’t get any formal charges to stick other than non-cooperation with the police. He was as slick as a baby’s wet ass; it didn’t surprise me any that they couldn’t get him on the other charges.

I know it’s a bad idea to track him down, but maybe I can help make some sense of all this.
With the growing number of bodies turning up with the Lords’ symbol, he might be able to shed some light on the situation. Matty had pointed out that none of the men that have came into my lab were members of the Lords of Sin; they were members of other local MCs. If memory serves me correctly, Troy should’ve gotten out of prison a few months ago.
Would he actually tell me anything if I did get in touch with him? Could he actually be behind some of these murders?

“You okay?” Amber asked after calling my name a few times with no response.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She broke my trance. Troy had that effect on me. One minute I was fine, and the next I’d daydream about him spreading my thighs on the seat of his bike, plowing into me while my tits bounced as he pinned me down, leaving a trail of his thick, sticky cum dripping out of me for hours.

“You ready?”

“I can hardly contain myself,” I mocked her.

She clicked the ball-point pen in her hand as we began the autopsy. By the end of the day, we’d finished three autopsies, and I needed a stiff drink after thoughts of Troy had been running rampant through my head all day. I’d contemplated whether or not I should try to talk to him—if he’d even tell me anything. I finally decided that I should check out his local club’s bar for a bit of a high school reunion and a whiskey on the rocks.

Driving down Highway 180, my palms began to sweat and my stomach turned.
I should’ve gone home. Yep, went home, had a couple of drinks, a hot bath and got in bed.
Exiting the freeway, I glanced in the rear view mirror at myself. At the age of 33, you’d think I’d be over my bad boy crush, but the truth was, I’d never really gotten over him. I still remember the raw, hot sex we had. Didn’t matter if we were alone while my parents were gone or if we were parked on the side of the main drag.

Sitting at the stop light two blocks from the Lords’ House of Commons, I glanced down at my car clock as I started to twirl the ring on my thumb. It was almost seven o’clock. I was hoping for the best but my mind played tricks on me as worst case scenarios clouded my thoughts. I closed my eyes, wishing that everything would go smoothly when I was startled by a blaring horn. I nearly jolted in my seat as I looked up at the green light and then in my rear view mirror at the guy who was holding his hands up in the air. “Fuck you asshole!” I flipped him off. Pressing down on the gas pedal, I darted through the intersection.

What is wrong with you, Raven?
I’ve never gotten antsy when it came to men, but when it came to him, I was putty. Thinking back to the last time I saw him, a vivid image formed in my mind. We were in front of the pawn shop on Olive Street, a few weeks before I left for college. He was wearing a pair of worn, faded blue jeans with a black clingy shirt that exaggerated his sculpted biceps and a pair of weathered boots. A black bandanna was tied around his forehead, pulling his long dark hair away from his face. We barely spoke two words to each other, which drove a knife right through me. Well, it was either that or the skank he had on his arm. I’d say it was the latter. He never had a problem when it came to getting women to hop into bed with him—including me. I gave him my V-card during our senior year, and probably about a dozen other girls, too.

“Shit!” I slammed on the brakes. I drove right past the fucking House of Commons as I reminisced.
Come on girl, get it together.
I circled the block and made my way back around. A couple of younger guys—prospects—were guarding the gate. I pulled up to the entrance and rolled down my window. One of the guys walked up to my car.

“You lost?” One of the punks with red, spiked hair asked me. The other one, with a shaved head, kept his silence as he stared a hole through me.