Bad Boy Revelation (Alpha Bad Boy Book 1)

Bad Boy Revelation

(Short #1 in the Bad Boy Series)

By: Sloane Howell

Bad Boy Revelation

Copyright © Sloane Howell

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Cover Design by Sloane Howell

www.sloanehowell.com

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This ebook is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.

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Novels:

The Matriarch Trilogy:

Book # 1: The Matriarch: An Erotic Superhero Romance

Books # 2 and 3: Coming in 2016

Short Stories and Novellas:

The Panty Whisperer Series:

The Panty Whisperer: Volumes 1 - 5

The Panty Whisperer: Volume 6

The Payne Capital Series:

Payne Capital

INTRO

Father, please forgive me for what I'm about to do.

I pushed two fingers inside my slick pussy as my head flew back into my pillow. I rolled my eyes over to my laptop — sitting two feet away on my dorm room bed — as a man pounded into a woman from behind, fisting her hair. She squealed his name and begged for more. I wanted it. Not him. Not her. I wanted someone to be rough with me. I wanted more than what the guys at college and in my hometown had to offer. Something was wrong with me...

ESTHER

"Daddy!" The church doors flew by and disappeared behind me as I ran into the main sanctuary and into Dad's arms. I'd been away at college, but now I was home for summer break after my sophomore year.

"When did you get so grown up?" He looked like he might cry before squeezing me tight. Holding me back out in front of him, he eyed me up and down. His face had more wrinkles, but his green eyes still lit up the same as they did when I was a child. "I can't believe you're twenty."

I looked around the room, the church I'd grown up in. I smiled from ear to ear as I took in the oaky smell of the wood mixed with the orange scented cleaner they used to polish it. When I looked past Dad to the altar, the giant cross came into view, ominous and looming, crushing me into a pile of fine dust. I was broken. I always had been. I always would be. At least that's what I'd been led to believe.

Save me, Father.

Dad's grin brought me back to the present, focused my attention back on him and whatever he had planned that evening. "Have you seen Brian yet? He's in town."

"No." I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I know it's a touchy subject. It's just—" He sighed. "Let's go eat lunch, okay?"

"Okay." I didn't mean to let him down, but Brian was a jerk. Unfortunately, his family pretty much owned the town, and that meant people relied on them for everything. Apparently, appearances mattered to some people and our soon-to-be marriage was basically etched in stone. I wanted to run away, to go somewhere that I didn't feel trapped or judged. But I couldn't. I loved my family too much. This town was the kind of place that would turn its back on someone who ran away.

Dad and I started back toward the double doors, walking down the carpet as my hand ran over the smooth curves of the wooden pews. Dad built this church with his bare hands. It was his opus, his calling, and he would never leave it. His funeral would be here. My wedding would be here. How could one place make me so happy and so sad simultaneously?

I glanced to the stained glass mosaic of Mary and Christ. It always reminded me of the cubist style paintings by the 'devil artists' as Mom and Dad called them. I thought it was beautiful. I always had. The light reflected around the room like a kaleidoscope, spraying the walls with different patterns and colors, when my eyes darted to a shadow next to the window.

Wow!

"D-dad, who is that?" I nodded to the man who sulked along the wall, concealed in the dark corner of the church.

"Stay away from him. That's who that is. Understand?" He gripped me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes.

"Why? What's wrong with him? Why's he here?"

"He's the new handyman. He needed a job. He's troubled — I assume, anyway."

"Daddy, you shouldn't just assume things about people."

I couldn't pry my eyes from him. He was angst on legs. I could barely make out his full form and I wanted to see more. My nipples tightened and grew against my t-shirt and my legs started to wobble. Hot energetic pleasure flowed down to my clit. I must have been leaning towards the man, drawn to him by some cosmic sexual force of attraction, because I felt Dad's forearm press into my rib cage, keeping me from stumbling forward.

"I mean it. Stay away from him. You are my daughter. It's my job to protect you."

"I’m twenty years old, Dad." I huffed as heat rush into my face. "You can't protect me from the world."

I could only make out the silhouette of the man, but what I did see was pure danger. And I wanted it.

Dominant, imposing men had made me sexually aroused since I could remember. I don't know how or why, all I knew was that it was the monkey on my back, my cross to bear. I had to fight it constantly and had managed to keep my sexual escapades to a handful of encounters. The only thing that made it easy was knowing a man my age would never push the buttons I needed. Would never take me rough the way I craved. They would never handle me in a way that would push me over the edge and into an intense, rolling orgasm.

This man in the corner — his towering, chiseled frame, cold eyes, thick beard — he looked like he was capable of doing everything I needed, and more. I felt it in his presence, the turmoil in his stare from across the room. His demeanor told me everything I needed to know — I had everything he wanted, and he needed to take it from me. I would let him.

I tore my eyes from the man and faced the cross that spanned high into the vaulted ceilings.

Father, please forgive me for what I am going to do.

***

A few days passed and Dad had managed to keep me away from the man. I'd learned his name was Bryce and that he'd arrived a few days ago on a motorcycle, looking for work. He rarely spoke to anyone.

I couldn't stop thinking about Bryce and what I wanted his hands — among other things — to do to me. I hadn't even been on my FetLife account since Bryce's image had seared itself into my brain. His light, ice blue eyes, slicked back blonde hair, and that beard. That beard was a work of art that belonged in the Louvre. I wanted it between my highs, soaking up all the wetness that Bryce pulled from inside of me with his tongue as he tasted me. I imagined his ripped muscles flexing and releasing as he gripped me hard from behind and turned my ass pink with his hands. I wanted to feel his teeth, his mouth on my large, round breasts. He was driving me crazy and I'd only seen him once.

I sat on my bed, reading my Bible, trying to atone for my filthy, ridiculously dirty thoughts.
You are marrying Brian as soon as you graduate. Get used to it, Esther.

I didn't want to get used to it. I wanted Bryce. I was in love with Bryce. I couldn't explain it. I felt his presence before I'd even seen him in the church. The fear struck me again and I gulped. Eyes were watching me, but I didn't know where, all I knew was it was him. He was here, with me, somehow. Dad said he worked around the house sometimes, doing odd jobs, anything for cash. I slowly tried to scan the windows. I didn't want to alert him to the fact I knew. But I knew. Oh, did I ever know that he was watching me, stalking me, eyeing what was his.

Usually, I would have felt like a crazy person for thinking this, but my palms were sweaty, the pages of my Bible starting to wrinkle and stick to my fingers. My breathing was shallow, coming and going in rapid waves as my heart thumped against my rib cage. I looked down to the seemingly millions of pebbles along my forearms, and then, I couldn't help myself — my eyes rolled to the side and met his, in the corner of the window.

I darted my eyes back to the good book, but I could tell he hadn't moved from my peripheral vision. He was still watching me, like the devil, seeking to devour and destroy.

Father, please forgive me.

I'd always managed to maintain some semblance of self control. I'd had sex approximately two point five times, the point five being a just-the-tip encounter with a football player before I'd come to my senses. The other two were with Brian at parties, for the sake of appearances. His rich family wanted him with the good, religious woman who would cook his meals, and have all his children so that they could continue lording over everyone in small-town America.

A shudder ripped up my spine as Bryce's gaze continued to haunt me from the window. I knew I shouldn't goad him, but I wanted him to claim me. I wanted to be his property. I needed bad things done to my body in the worst way. I slowly set my Bible down next to me, lay back, and slid my hand down the front of my shorts.

I imagined my finger was Bryce's tongue as it circled my tight bud protruding atop my entrance. I felt his beard on my thighs as he feasted on my pussy. My hips rose higher from the bed as I pawed at my breasts with my free hand, restraining myself from removing my clothes, teasing him from the flesh I knew he desired.

I sank two fingers inside and let out a gasp as I rolled to my side, my back to him, hiding everything from view as I fucked myself with my fingers. Clenching my eyes shut, I imagined it was his dick pulling all the innocence from me and shoving nothing but pure evil back in. I gasped and moaned, knowing he could hear me through the thin panes of glass separating us. I felt the most intense wave of pleasure as I rammed my fingers into my pussy as hard as I could while thumbing my clit. My hips bucked wildly, and I knew all Bryce could see was my back and ass quivering, my arm flexing as I drove my fingers into myself. But he could hear me. I knew he heard me. Because I came on a muffled scream. "Ohh, fuck Bryce!"

I heard a palm hit the glass and jolted in the bed. As my vision cleared and I mustered the courage to turn, there was a dirty handprint on my window pane, and he was gone.

***

I saw his motorcycle in the parking lot of the church. Dad had sent me to the store to pick up something for dinner and naturally I went the opposite way, back to the house of the Lord where I knew evil lurked, to see if he was there. I couldn't do anything without thinking about him, wanting him. I hadn't even met him formally, and yet I was in love. Well — I was in lust — that was for damn sure. I slinked up to the main entrance and slid my key in, easing through the door, careful not to make a sound.

Dark churches are eerie, and it was perfect. Shadows danced spookily on the walls as I moved through the auditorium. I was scared shitless and my pussy was on fire. I imagined him lurking behind every pillar, every chair, waiting to claim me. I'd been out and about earlier, so I had on a tight fitting blouse and a mid-length black skirt. I walked gingerly between the pews, listening for clues, anything that would alert me to where he was. I heard water running. Dad said sometimes Bryce worked late and stayed at the church.

As I neared the huge cross, praying to Jesus for the sins I would commit with this man, the sound of water grew louder, from the baptismal.

He's showering.

Pleasure tore through my limbs and into my clit as I thought of the water pelting his god-like body. It made sense. There were men's and women's showers for after people had been baptized, just like those at public swimming pools.

I worked my way up the stairs, slow and steady, careful not to make a sound. I crept along in the shadows, my long brunette hair teasing at my face as I pulled it back into a pony tail and tied it off with the band I had on my wrist. Nothing was going to ruin my view, especially not my own hair.

When I reached the stop of the stairs a sliver of light burst through the cracked door, and I could hear the pitter patter of the water loud and clear on the tile, and his rock hard frame.

I slipped off my shoes and set them against the wall to help me remain quiet. I glided to the door, care in every step, more air leaving my lungs as I neared.

Finally, I was a mere inches away. I put my hand to the door and winced as I pressed it a little farther open to help me see what I came for, what I longed for. The light was blinding as my eyes opened. There he was, with his back to me out in the open. Completely naked.

I gasped, but managed to contain the sound as the air left my lungs completely.

I saw the back of his neck, tight rigid muscle upon muscle, like a solid sculpture that belonged in a European museum. The lights and darks accentuated every fine detail, and the glistening water highlighted every curve as it cascaded down the deep rigid crevices of his body. I nearly lost it when I saw the ink on his back. It was Jesus on the cross, spanning shoulder blade to shoulder blade, neck to ass. My Lord and Savior, nailed to the old rugged cross, a crown of thorns upon his head. It was gorgeous and detailed.

I couldn't stop staring, when I noticed the scars — real scars — that looked like Bryce had taken a whip and lashed the image of Christ, creating vivid lines of suffering. I wanted to touch them, draw my finger along them.

I finally worked my eyes down to his ass, a thing of beauty that I would've lost myself in had I not noticed the thick, tan cock that swayed in the air beneath it, visible from behind. It was so raw and vivid, like watching an animal in the wild or on the nature channel. He was pure power and sex, a man who looked like he took what he wanted, and fought anything that tried to stop him. A primitive creature who ruled the wild, and twisted my heart in knots if he so much as looked in my direction.

I couldn't stop myself. I raised my skirt up my ass and closed my eyes as my fingers sank deep inside of my slick, aching pussy. I stroked my clit in slow circles, feeling how wet it was making me, listening to the water, knowing he was there, and feeling his presence.

Right when I'd pushed myself to the brink of an orgasm, I was shocked from my release.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was gravelly and rough.

My eyes darted down, staring at the massive, fully erect dick attached to him. He didn't bother trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry, I j-just...I wanted to see."

He walked over to me slowly. His beard grazed my collarbone as his mouth went to my ear. "I know what you want. And you can't have it." His voice was rough and intense. I trembled as he eyed me, looking up and down my body. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily in my ear. He looked down and my hand still worked back and forth across my panties. He stared at me and I returned his gaze, a moan on my tongue, waiting to escape my lips. I hoped he'd take me against the wall.