Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (72 page)

I picked up my key and shoved it into the door, opening it with ease this time.

“Maybe we should skip the tea. You haven't seen my room yet, have you?” I said, running my hand up his body suggestively.

Vince leaned forward and kissed down my neck, making me shiver.

“I don't know. Does this normally happen on dates?” he whispered. I nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, but only really good ones,” I said. Vince didn't need to be convinced anymore. I took his hand and guided him upstairs.

He was right. Somehow we always ended up like this.

Vince

Lola's bedroom looked like what I imagined the inside of her head looked like. She had a huge bookshelf, absolutely filled to brim with books and magazines and decorated with a lot of cute little trinkets. Her bed was big, covered with a floral comforter. Her closet was also filled to the brim with a number of colorful garmets, and her vanity table was covered in perfumes and makeup. There were a few teddy bears on her bed, which she knocked off in embarrassment. I couldn't let her get away with that though.

“Why'd you do that? They can be friends with the teddy bear that I won for you.” I said. Lola shushed me.

“I don't want to talk about teddy bears now,” she said. I let her kiss my mouth, softly and gently like it was the first time. It almost felt like the first time to me. After the new experience of a date, everything else felt shiny and new to me.

Lola pulled off my jacket and my shirt and threw them to the ground. I let her kiss down my body until she was on her knees in front of me.

She looked up at me with a twinkle in those sexy eyes of hers. I was hard already.

“I haven't done this in a while, have I?” she said softly. I didn't speak. I just watched her undo my belt and pull out my cock.

Lola ran her tongue up and down the shaft of my cock. Somehow, she just knew exactly what to do to make me feel incredible. It wasn't long before she was sucking me, just the way I liked. The sight of her making love to me with her mouth like that was so sexy. I knew it would stay in my mind forever.

She continued to lick and suck me until I felt myself coming close to an orgasm. It never normally happened this quickly, but her mouth and tongue were just so skillful that I couldn't help it. I had to stop her.

“No,” I breathed, gently pulling her back, “Not yet. I'm not done with you yet.”

She didn't argue. I lifted her up and laid her down on the bed in front of me. She looked so fucking beautiful, just lyying there and looking up at me like that. A part of me just wanted to look at her like that and appreciate her beauty. However, an even bigger part of me wanted to fuck her brains out. It seemed that we were on the same page.

“Fuck me, please,” she breathed. Her words turned me on more than her blow job had. I had to obey.

I stripped her until her clothes were laying on the floor next to mine and she was naked. Her body was so perfect, I couldn't stop myself from kissing her all over. I lingered on her breasts, kissing them and licking them. She moaned at the sensation, obviously enjoying herself.

“Stop teasing me,” she said breathlessly, “I want you inside me.” I couldn't resist teasing her a little bit.

“Sure thing, baby doll,” I said. Lola scowled at me and I could tell that she was about to start complaining, but I didn't give her the chance. I grasped my cock in my hand and pressed it into her, so the first few inches slipped in to that beautiful wetness. She gasped and it was like music to my ears. I loved those noises she made and just wanted her to make more for me.

I began to move inside her, gently increasing my pace. Lola writhed and groaned beneath me, begging me to fuck her just the way I knew she liked. She didn't need to convince me. I moved faster, harder inside her.

“Oh fuck,” she said, “Fuck that feels so good.”

It felt just as good for me. I had to bite down on her nipple to stop myself from cuming too soon, which made her cry out in pleasure. Suddenly, Lola reached up and grabbed my face, planting her lips on mine. I kissed her passionately as I fucked her and it felt intimate and sexy at the same time. It wasn't long before Lola and I came close to our orgasms. She was first, giving out a final cry as her pussy tightened around me and her muscles spasmed.

I followed soon after, giving her the last thrust I could muster and cuming inside of her. I pulled out and collapsed beside her, letting the final wave of pleasure flow through my body.

When I eventually came down and realized that my arms were around her. It was strange, but for once I felt all right. It felt good actually. I pulled her closer to me.

Lola looked up at me in surprise.

“I thought you didn't like cuddling?” she said softly. I brushed her hair out of her eyes and kissed the top of her head.

“I didn't. I didn't like a lot of things before I met you,” I said. Lola pressed her finger to my lip and shushed me.

“Be quiet. That's girlfriend talk. We don't do that, remember?” she teased. I pushed her hand away. “I'm serious, Lola. I like this. I like cuddling, I like kissing. I like you,” I took a deep breath, “I think maybe...maybe I love you?”

I said it like it was a question but we both knew that it wasn't. It was a fact that I'd been trying to deny forever now. Lola's eyes widened.

“Woah, that's a little much for a first date, isn't it?” she said. My heart sank. Was she serious? This was why I didn't do dating. It was too messy. Lola saw my expression and laughed her ass off, “Lighten up Vince! I'm kidding. I hate to say it, but I love you too.”

I hugged her tight and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. Those words, those words that I had always laughed at now seemed to mean so much to me. I wasn't my old self anymore, but maybe that was OK Sometimes change was good.

“That's great. We're in agreement then,” I said. Lola nodded.

“For once it seems like we are. Funny, huh?” she said. I kissed her head again.

“Yeah, funny,” I put on my serious voice, “But Lola, one thing OK? We gotta establish boundaries.” “Sure.”

I could sense the nervous tone in her voice, but I could tell that she was nervous. She probably thought I was going to say something stupid and fuck things up again. I couldn't blame her. “You have to promise me something,” I said, keeping my serious voice.

“Anything.”

“You never drive me anywhere again.”

She elbowed me in the ribs and the two of us collapsed into laughter. This wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

<<<< THE END >>>>

Savannah

At twenty-five years old, spending a night alone getting wasted in a dive bar wasn't how I'd imagined my life. After all, I'd had so much potential. My name, Savannah Finn, was still plastered all over the design school where I'd graduated with a top qualification in textiles. They used the dresses I'd designed to show new students what they could achieve some day if they really put their minds to it. On graduation day they handed me that scroll and I knew that I was going somewhere. I was going to be somebody. All of my teachers would be so proud of me a few years down the line when I returned from my first show at fashion week.

“We knew she was going to do big things from the start,” was what they would say. I had talent. I had a boyfriend who loved me. I was going somewhere.

Two years later and things had changed quite a bit. It turned out that my boyfriend hadn't loved me enough not to cheat on me with every girl and one or two guys that took his fancy. I'd found him in bed with one of my friends and that was the last straw. I'd sworn off men since then. That was all right, as I still graduated first in my class. All I had to do was wait for the perfect job to come by and the rest of my life would fall into place. Men didn't matter. I was a career woman. So I waited. And waited. If I'd waited any longer then I would have starved to death and been kicked out of my apartment. For the last two years I had been stuck working as a glorified seamstress, visiting clients in their homes and turning up their kids' pants when they had growth spurts or altering the occasional wedding dress. There was no room for creativity and there was certainly no room for any enjoyment. It was only marginally better than working in fast food, though some days made me doubt that. Today had been particularly tough. Elderly clients were usually kind but this one was something else. Mrs Brown was a haughty woman who clearly saw me as beneath her. When I told her that the dress she had bought three sizes too small simply couldn't be altered to fit, she had called me an idiot and ranted about entitled, ignorant young people. I hadn't even managed to drive away before my agency was calling, warning me that if I let a client get that upset again that I'd be
fired. It wasn't the first warning I'd ever gotten from them, though I always tried to do the best job that I could. They yelled at me like I was a child and it took everything for me to not live up to it and burst into tears right there and then. Instead, I saved them until they hung up.

It was the last straw. I needed a drink. It wasn't like me to go to a bar alone, but it wasn't as if I had a choice. All of my friends were sickeningly busy. It was either 'date night' with their husbands or they had to do a little bit of overtime at their fabulous jobs. I didn't push any of them. Seeing them would only have irritated me anyway. To them I was the sad case. The girl who had so much potential and squandered it in a crappy day job that only just allowed her to pay the bills. The girl who was so pretty but wouldn't settle for the creeps on dating websites who could barely form a sentence. I was to be pitied. Well, I didn't need pity tonight. I needed a drink.

I made my way to The Black Horse bar without even going home to get changed. I always overdressed for work in an attempt to feel like it actually mattered. My black pencil skirt and sheer blouse flattered my soft curves and I pulled my hair down from its tight bun. It fell in soft blonde waves around my shoulders. According to the rear view mirror, I looked presentable. The crying hadn't even smudged my mascara. It wasn't like it mattered anyway. I wasn't entering a beauty contest. I was getting drunk.

After finding a suitable parking spot I walked as confidently as I could into the bar, reminding myself that there was no reason I couldn't go for a drink by myself. It wasn't pathetic. It was independence. Who needed a husband? Who needed a great job? I lived life on my own terms. Fuck the people who expected me to conform to their narrow ideas of success. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted without a husband or a real job to tie me down.

The bar was almost deserted. I shouldn't have been surprised that most peoples' Monday night plans didn't include getting drunk, but I would have appreciated some white noise to block out my thoughts. The bar was dead silent, apart from the bartender and a single patron who were talking, though they paused to look at me once I stepped in. I'd been here a few times in college but it had been busy back then. I hadn't notice how dank it really was and how much it stank of cigarette
smoke. Maybe this had been a bad idea. I stood there, frozen to the spot as the two men looked at me expectantly.

“Come on Blondie, no one's gonna bite you!” said the one sitting at the bar. The two of them burst into peals of laughter at his stupid remark. A women with any sense would have turned on her heel and walked out, but I wasn't that kind of girl. I marched straight up to the bar and sat down, as far away from that man as I could.

The bartender himself was nothing spectacular but the man who called me Blondie was admittedly rather handsome. Tall, broad and chiseled and surprisingly well dressed for such a place. He was wearing a pair of smart black pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his Japanese style tattoos. I'd never been very interested in tattoos but these ones were beautiful, adding a fantastic array of color and detail to his skin. I tried not to stare.

He smiled at me but I didn't reciprocate. The bartender looked rather apologetic for laughing at me. “What can I get you?” he asked.

“Cocktail night is Saturday, sweetie!” said the other guy, but the bartender shushed him. What a jackass. His sparkling blue eyes and chiseled jawline didn't make up for his arrogance. If there was one thing that I had learned in my quarter of a century on the planet it was that good looks didn't make up for a shitty personality. Even if his stubble looked sexy as hell.

I ignored him and looked at the bartender with determination.

“Whiskey on the rocks please. The strongest you've got,” I said. I'd never had it before but it sounded a little bit more impressive than my usual order of rum and diet coke. Both men looked taken a back but the bartender quickly snapped out of it and poured it for me.

The irritating gentleman moved a seat closer to me, looking at me with curiosity.

“Did you get dumped or something?” he asked. Jesus Christ, this guy had no tact whatsoever. The way he spoke whatever was on his mind without any regard for anyone was reminiscence of a nasty child. If we were still in the playground I would have pushed him off of the slide to teach the little fucker a lesson.

“No,” I said curtly. The bartender, whose name tag said 'Jack' handed me my whiskey. I thanked him and rifled through my purse for money.

“It's on me,” said the asshole. I rolled my eyes.

“No thanks.”

“Seriously, you look like you can't afford it,” he said. Typical.

“Ah, you're doing that schoolyard thing of being mean to me to get me to like you then? No thanks,” I said, handing the bartender a twenty. He pushed it back.

“Really miss, he can afford it. You should keep your money,” he said. I frowned and pushed the money back.

“I don't care. I'll pay for my own drinks, thanks,” I said. Jack raised his eyebrows but took my money and handed me my change. Though I intentionally didn't look at him, I could feel the other man's eyes on me. It was unnerving. I made a mental note to never come to this bar again. I certainly wouldn't be coming back alone. I began to understand why most women preferred to go to bars in groups. That way they could avoid talking to jerks like this guy.

“What's your name?” asked the man. I ignored him. Jack laughed, watching bemusedly.

I took another sip of my drink. It was stronger than I had been expecting, but not unpleasant. The boys seemed impressed by how easily I drank it down.

“Oh come on sweet cheeks, don't ignore me now. No one ignores me,” he said. Jack shook his head. “Stop pushing the girl, Dane. She's embarrassed,” he said. His voice was kind but I found it infuriating. Embarrassed? Why on earth would I be embarrassed? The only one who should have been embarrassed was the stupid man with the sexy body.

“I'm not embarrassed,” I said. I turned to Dane, “Now, could you please leave me alone Dane, or whatever it is you're called.”

For some reason that I couldn't quite understand, the two men looked baffled. God, handsome guys were the worst. I'd never come across a handsome guy who didn't know how good looking he was and get pissed off when not all women fell at his feet. Well, I wasn't that shallow. A pretty face
meant jack shit to me if it didn't come with a brain and a personality attached to it. I just wished that most men thought the same way.

I drained the last of my glass and handed the bartender a wad of notes. My groceries from last week would have to carry me over to this week, judging by the rate I was spending tonight. Drinks just seemed a lot more appealing to me at the present time.

“I'm going to sit at one of the booths and read a book. If you see my glass is empty I want you to come over and bring me a new one, OK?” I said and he nodded slowly. I left and marched over to the booth, sitting down on the soft leather and pulling a battered old copy of Mansfield Park out of my handbag. I usually liked to read at home, curled up with a hot drink and a blanket but I didn't see why I couldn't read in the bar. It was better than talking to those idiots anyway.

Of course it wasn't long before Dane had followed me over with my drink in one hand and his beer in the other. He placed them down on the table and grinned at me.

“Oh, you're part of the wait staff now?” I said. My insults seemed to just rebound, to go through one ear and right out the other. Maybe the boy was a complete moron and I was being too cruel. Then again, that knowing smile made me question it. I'd keep be cruel for as long as he kept being annoying. It didn't seem like either of us were going to stop. He slid into the seat across me and nodded at my book.

“Jane Austen, huh? You like all that garbage?” he said. I was surprised that he even knew who she was. Impressed, even. I shouldn't have been, but most handsome guys didn't even read the back of the cereal box regularly. This one wasn't totally brain dead. He did make one fatal mistake, however. There was one thing that you didn't do, and that was insult Savannah Finn's favorite authors. Especially Jane Austen.

“Oh please, you've never read a book in your life. How would you know if it was good or not?” I snorted. I made a point of staring at the page, though the words were blurry. Dane knew that there was no way I would ignore him. He seemed genuinely offended by my remark.

“Uh, you are so wrong. Only, I usually read good books not that mushy crap where everyone's in
love with everyone and all the chicks wear corsets. Not that I mind corsets, they kind be kinda sexy if you put them with stockings on the right chick, I digress. But I did read Mansfield Park a few years back for research,” He said. I put the book down and knocked back my whiskey. It didn't seem quite as strong anymore and slid down my throat easily. Maybe this would become a regular drink for me. My friends, who considered two cocktails in one night to be 'going wild' would feel even more pity for me if they thought I was an alcoholic.

Dane was looking at me expectantly. I sighed and gave in.

“And I bet you're just dying for me to ask you what you were researching for, aren't you? If I do will you bug off?” I asked. Dane shrugged.

“I can't make any promises, but you're going to ask me anyway,” he said. God damn it, it was annoying how right he was. I sucked in my lips in an attempt to keep quiet, but I couldn't resist asking why this tattooed beefcake would be reading historical romance novels. It was such a strange image that there had to be a good story behind it.

“What were you researching?” I sighed, hating the triumphant look on that stupid, perfect face.

“I had an audition to play Tom in a mini-series. This was years ago, when I still did television,” he said, “It didn't work out. Apparently being heavily tattooed throws off the realism in historical dramas. I thought it might add another dimension to his character, but the casting directors didn't think so. Eh, wasn't my thing anyway.”

Ah, a failed actor. My school had been right next to a drama academy so I'd met them often. They would get drunk and talk about their glory days as an extra in some major soap opera or insist that I go see their one woman show about the evils of consumerism. They were still young, but it was obvious to me and anyone else that they were going nowhere. Would I really have to sit down and politely listen to this guy regal me with his tales of being Frightened Man #3 in some low budget horror sequel? I decided to nip it in the bud.

“Look, I'm really not interested in hearing anymore about your acting experience. I was in a fast food commercial when I was nine and a nativity play when I was four -I played Mary, by the way.

So you could say I starred in it. Guess what? No one gives a shit, buddy. When you've made a few million dollar movies then we can talk,” I said, polishing off the last of my whiskey. Jack came over immediately with another whiskey for me and another beer for Dane. As he returned to the bar I saw that Dane was smiling at me like he'd just discovered some kind of rare diamond.