Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance (28 page)

“Still pierced,” she says with a pleased smirk. Her tongue runs along
the inside of her upper lip.

“All the better to please you.” I dip down, kissing her hot and wanting
mouth and feeling her smile.

“You know that was a dare,” she said. “I never expected you to really
get your cock pierced.”

“You should’ve known better than to dare me to do anything,” I whisper.
“I dared you to get your nipples pierced and you chickened out.” My mouth
trails down her neck, peppering soft kisses into her soft flesh and stopping
above her heaving breasts. I take a nipple in my mouth and bite down just
enough to elicit another heavy sigh. “But that’s okay because you shouldn’t
fuck with perfection.”

“Dare me to do something else,” she begs through breathless sighs. “I’m not
in a mood to care about consequences right now…”

“Let me fuck you up against that window,” I whisper. I gaze up over her
head, where floor to ceiling windows lead out to my balcony. “I want the whole
fucking world to know you’re mine.”

I climb off her, pulling her up and over to the window. I press her
against it, her hands splayed out as she braces herself. My hand travels
between her legs, spreading them until I find her slit. I stick a finger in,
followed by another.

“So fucking wet,” I moan. “God,
Lauryn
.”

She bites her lip and presses a cheek against the glass. It’s still
daylight out and her hot, naked body is pressed against the glass for the whole
world to see – or at least my neighbors across the street.

“Fuck me, Sutton,” she pleads.

“Are you on the pill?” I ask. I’m a doctor. I need to know these things.
“Are you clean?”

“Just had a check up the other day. I’m clean. I haven’t been with James
in weeks,” she pants. “And I’m on the shot.”

Her eyes squeeze as she waits. My right hand grips the base of my cock,
pumping it and angling it between her thighs. My free hand grips her taut low
belly, guiding her onto my cock slowly, the way she liked it in high school.
Her body is tense, and the second she sheaths me, her body melds against the
glass.

“Holy shit, you’re tight.” I grip her hips and pump myself into her. Her
breasts bounce with each thrust, and I watch our reflection in real-time.
Lauryn’s
hands slide down the glass, leaving streaks as she
rocks her hips against mine. My left hand travels to the front of her hips,
trailing down until I find her clit.

Her mouth moans in response to my fingers, and I temporarily pause to
make her taste herself. “Taste what I do to you,
Lauryn
.
This is what you’ve been missing all these years.”

My hands grip her hips, and I pump ferociously into her, her body
bucking wildly and letting me know she’s getting close. I don’t want her to
come yet. I don’t want to come yet. I don’t want it to be over as soon as it
started, but neither one of us have a choice. Our bodies have taken over, and
our bodies have declared that they want each other.

My balls tighten. I come inside her, emptying myself as she squeals and
moans, her hips churning and writhing against my stiff cock. When we’re done, I
spin her to face me, taking her face in my hands and tasting her lips again
before she has a chance to breathe a word. Knowing
Lauryn
,
she’s already psychoanalyzing this and trying to make sense of something she
has no business making sense of.

It is what it is, and it’s a beautiful fucking thing that I have no
intentions of letting go of no matter what.

I’m naked. My ass is plastered against the glass of Sutton’s living room
and remnants of our sex drip down my slick thighs. My pussy clenches as the
remainder of my orgasm fades into oblivion. I’m trying to catch my breath,
mourning the loss of the way his cock – and his piercing – felt
inside me.

Sutton is
well-endowed
. His cock fills every
fiber of me with each thrust, and his piercing rubs against just the right
areas. I’d almost forgotten what a real, man-given orgasm felt like.

I’m still reeling.

James who?

Stepbrother what?

Nothing matters now as
Sut
stands before me,
his arms hooked around my waist and a dreamy, satisfied smile is captured on
his handsome face. If we were
laying
in bed, now would
be when we spooned. Or maybe we’d shut out the lights and fall into an orgasm
induced coma together.

My mind switches, swimming through a lusty haze and emerging back to
reality. I want to ask how many people saw us fucking. I want to know who all
saw my breasts bouncing as my stepbrother fucked me against the glass for the
entire downtown Miami population to see.

Sut
takes my hand, leading me back to the sofa where he sits
down.
 
He pulls me onto his lap. We
smell like sex and the soap from his shower that still permeates off his warm
skin. His cock is slowly turning limp, but it’s still pressed against my
wetness. I could easily go for round two if he wanted.

“I have to work tonight,” he says. “I haven’t slept in over twenty-four
hours. You can either come back to my room with me and keep me warm with that
tight body of yours, or you can make yourself at home while I sleep.”

Our eyes lock, and I debate on whether or not I should tell him I’m
moving back to L.A. It’s probably not a good time to tell him, after he just
fucked me and is staring at me like he wants me to have his babies, but I can’t
string him along. I didn’t come here expecting to fuck him or expecting for us
to reveal that our love for one another was still going strong after all these
years.

He deserves to know.

“I’m moving back to L.A.” I tell him. I hold my breath, waiting for his
response. My eyes close, and when they open, he’s still making the same face.
It’s expressionless. I don’t know if he’s angry, shocked, hurt, or confused. Or
maybe he’s nothing.

And then his jaw clenches. “You’re not letting that asshole run you out
of town, are you?”

“James? Oh, God, no.” I vehemently shake my head. “Seeing how passionate
you are about your job makes me want to find my passion. I don’t want to spend
the rest of my life peddling drugs to doctors. That’s not my dream.”

“What is your dream?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” I pull in a breath and brush my
hair from my face, which reminds me, I have sex hair. I haven’t had sex hair in
years. I haven’t had hot sex in years. Vanilla sex doesn’t give you sex hair.
“I spoke with my mom this morning. I’m going to live with her while I figure
things out.”

I trace along his chest, my finger gliding along every ripple and
muscular indentation, and I notice as it rises and falls with each steady
breath. His skin is soft and tan and warm, baked by the Miami sun and sculpted
by hours in a gym. His face falls, his lips forming a straight line.

“What?” I ask. “Say it.”

“You’re running,
Lauryn
.”

I climb off his lap, gathering my clothes from the floor. Now it feels
silly to be buck-naked and having this serious discussion with him.

“I’m not running.” I step into my panties before tugging my leggings up.
Eyeing the space around us, I see my bra hanging from the back of a chair.

“You can’t figure out your passion here?” He stands, redressing.

“I don’t have a job here,” I say. “Not anymore. I’m resigning.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He waves his hand in the air. “Live here. Live
with me. Figure out your passion here.”

“Sutton…” My mind is made up. It was made up before he ever kissed me
and told me he still loved me. It was made up before he took me against the
glass and made me his for a short, passionate moment in time.

He heads toward
me,
steady as a freight train,
and frames my face with this hand. His thumb runs along my bottom lip before he
plunges in and presses his mouth against mine, hard. It’s desperate and sexy
all at once.

He pulls his mouth from mine, leaving hints of his flavor on my tongue.
“You’re never going to learn, are you,
Lauryn
?”

“Learn what?”

“You’re never going to learn to trust your heart, and that’s really
unfortunate for you.” He releases my face and steps away. His silence concerns
me because Sutton Pierce is anything but silent. He should be fighting for me.
He should be pushing my buttons. He should be begging me to stay. But he’s not.
He says nothing, disappearing down the hall into the darkness.

A door slams. I show myself out.

It’s been two days since I walked out of Sutton’s apartment. Two days
with an ache between my legs and
a heaviness
around my
heart that won’t fade no matter how much I try to ignore it.

And now I’m standing at the head of a conference room, waiting for him
to walk in so we can present to Miami-Dade OB-GYN group. My heart thumps hard
inside my chest, and my palms sweat against the smooth plastic of the
PowerPoint clicker.

“Presentations make me nervous too, honey,” an older female doctor says.
She tugs on the pearl necklace at her throat. “You’ve got nothing to worry
about. No one here bites. Except Dr.
Bonnano
.”

She chuckles to her herself and turns to her left, making idle chat with
another physician. They pass around the tray of organic brownies I brought and
unscrew caps on the Fiji water bottles I lugged in.

Sutton better not bail on me.

I grab my notes, not that I need them. I have this stuff memorized. I
know it like the back of my hand. The clock behind me reads three past twelve.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, we’ve got patients to see,” a grouchy
older doctor says at the opposite end of the table. He has a slow, southern
accent that makes me think he’s from Savannah, Georgia. “Mind if we get on with
it?”

That’s the thing about being a drug rep. People think it’s some fancy
job where you get to shower your doctors with gifts. They think you get to
drive around in a fancy car and charge the whole world on your corporate VISA.
It’s not like that at all. At the end of the day, we’re just salespeople. And
at the end of the day, that’s how we’re treated.

“Y-yes,” I stammer, forcing a smile to my face. I click to the first
slide – a picture of a middle-aged woman holdings hands with her husband
as they stroll down a carnival boardwalk. “
Arovag
is
the first and only drug on the market that targets low female libido.”

“I’m here. Sorry.” Sutton rushes in, out of breath and looking like he
just came directly from the hospital, which is weird because he only ever works
the weekend package. “I miss anything?”

I stare at him, gape-mouthed, until he rushes up and grabs the notes and
clicker from my hand. He takes over, receiving undivided attention from each
and ever white-coated doctor in the room. Something about him being a colleague
garners him eons of respect and attention.

Folding my arms, I stand back and wait until he’s done giving his talk.
He fields questions from other doctors, answering them like a pro, and when
we’re done, he helps himself to the samples in one of my tote bags and hands
them out like baseball cards.

An attractive, red-haired doctor comes up to him after the space is
nearly cleared, but they’re standing on the opposite side of the room. I see
them smiling. I see her place her hand on his arm. A small tingle of jealousy
sears through me, and I push it away in an instant because I have no business
being jealous. They finish their conversation, and she struts off, dragging her
heels on the carpet and turning to offer him one last flirty smile before she
disappears out the door.

She totally eye-fucked him.

By the time he turns toward me, I snap my gaze toward the mess on the
conference tables. Wiping up crumbs and tossing out used water
bottles,
I clear up the mess and load my things back into my
tote bags without saying a single word.

I catch him looking at me with his breath held and his mouth straight,
and I know that look. He has something to say. Brushing past him, I run-walk
toward the elevator before he has a chance to stop me, but it’s no use. He
follows me, climbing onto the empty elevator right beside me.

He yanks a bag off my shoulder and grabs my roller suitcase.

Now he wants to be a gentleman?

“What’s your problem?” His brows meet in the middle, guarding his
piercing golden gaze. I press the button for the main level, hoping to buy
time, but I’ve only bought myself a paltry two seconds.

The elevator lowers us down, floor by floor. My stomach tickles, and I’m
not sure if it’s because of the mild g-force of the elevator ride or if it’s
because of the way he’s staring at my mouth like he’s five milliseconds from
devouring it.

The doors ding and part with a clunky thud, and we disembark, only he
grabs me by the crook of my elbow and pulls me to a little alcove behind the
elevator bay. It’s a private area. No doors or people. I’m not sure who
designed the space, but it’s a waste if I ever saw one.

“You going to talk to me?” He’s growing impatient, which says a lot
because he’s one of the most patient people I’ve ever known. His body heat
mixes with mine, filling the tight space around us and taking hold of my
senses. His mouth is inches from mine, but he’s released my arm. He’s not
holding me physically, but emotionally, he owns me right now.

But I’m not giddy or excited. I’m scared. I’m scared of what might
happen if I give into him and give him what he wants: me.

“You didn’t call me for two days.” I hope if I pick a fight, we won’t
have to talk about the real issue at hand.

“You left my apartment after you let me fuck you.” His nostrils flare.
“What was I supposed to say?”

“Nothing, Sutton. There’s nothing to say. I don’t know why you’re making
this a thing.”

“Are you mad because I was late?” He scratches the space above his left
brow.

“No.” I say it with a laugh because I could give two shits less about
him being three minutes late. He’s a fucking doctor. He’s never on time for
anything.

“Then, what?”

“I don’t want to do this,” I say. “I don’t want to do this with you. I
don’t want to talk about this or make this into a thing. It’s nothing, okay?
Let’s go our separate ways and forget this ever happened.”

“You’re talking to me like I’m a goddamned one night stand,
Lauryn
. Do you hear yourself right now?” His voice is
raised. A stampede of footsteps fills the area. People are getting off the elevator.

“Stop,
Sut
. Don’t do this. Don’t let anyone
see you like this.”

“Guess what,
Lauryn
? I don’t give a fuck about
what people think about me. It’s kind of how I do things. You should try it
sometime.”

“What do you want from me?” I whisper through gritted teeth, my eyes
darting over his shoulder to make sure the crowd has vanished. “You want to
fuck me again,
Sut
? You want one last go-round to get
me out of your system? Is that what it’s going to take?”

“Everything okay over here?” a man appears, another doctor, out of
nowhere. Didn’t even hear him coming. It’s the grumpy southern one.

Stupid, silent doctor
shoes.

“Everything’s fine, Dr.
Bonnano
.” Sutton waves
him off, flashing an innocuous smile, and the doctor disappears just as quietly
as he appeared.
Sut
turns to me, closing the tight
space between us. “I couldn’t get you out of my system if I tried.”

I’m holding my breath, waiting for his next move. I close my eyes, and
when I reopen them he’s gone. I catch the back of his white coat as he vanishes
through the sliding doors toward the parking lot.

***

“Hey, Connie.” I rap on my boss’ door that afternoon. My hands clutch
the white resignation letter I typed up the night before. I’m doing this. I’m
really doing this. I’m quitting and moving and not looking back.

“Come in,” Connie sings. She’s perched in front of her computer, typing
an email with angry fingers and a frown on her red lips. She stops as soon as I
walk in and shut the door, her entire demeanor shifting like she’s happy to see
me.

“Bad time?” I eye the computer screen.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s never a bad time for you, dear. Have a seat.
What’s going on?”

I press the white envelope against my chest, pursing my lips and closing
my eyes. By the time I reopen them, Connie is pulling the letter out of my grip
and tearing it open.

“No,” she says, her eyes scanning the page back and forth, back and
forth. “No, no, no.” She looks up at me and then
back
to the letter. “
Lauryn
, you can’t do this. You’re my
best rep.” She releases the letter and it floats to the top of her teak desk.
Her eyes glass over, but her mouth curls into a bittersweet half-smile. “I knew
this day would come. I just knew it. Is it too late to talk you out of it?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. No. My
mind’s
made
up. Thought about it all weekend.”

She leans back in her desk chair. It doesn’t seem to be taking her long
to accept the fact that in two weeks or less, I’ll be gone. She’s a resilient
old mare. “You know, Odessa’s been dying to fill your shoes.”

Odessa was one of the newer reps. With legs up to her neck, fake
breasts, and long, red hair always pressed in perfect
beachy
waves, she was a flirtatious head turner. Rumor has it she dates nothing but
doctors.

“She’ll be working with Dr.
McHottie
,” Connie
says. She lifts a single eyebrow as she waits for my reaction.

“More power to her.” I fold my arms and smirk. “He’s all hers.”

“This is about James isn’t it?” Connie’s shoulders sag. Her mouth is
twisted into a disgusted grimace.

“Not exactly.” I think about elaborating, but I know none of it matters.
Connie’s going
to move on. I’m going to move on. None
of this will matter a month from now or even a year from now.

“What’s your plan?” Connie asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “Just going back home to Brentwood. Will probably
move back in with my mom, figure things out. Decide what I want to do next?”

Connie shakes her head. “Oh, to be young again. You think you have your
whole life ahead of you, but you don’t realize the best years have already
passed you by. You were too busy thinking they were yet to come.”

I ready myself for another Connie lecture, only this time I have to
admit she’s making more sense than usual.

“Do me a favor,” Connie says, squinting at me. “Don’t look so hard that
you forget what you were looking for in the first place. Sometimes the things
we’re looking for have been right in front of us all along.” Her desk phone
rings and she picks it up immediately. “Connie Saltzman speaking.”

I stand up, giving her a quick wave and motioning toward the door. She
smiles and nods, waving goodbye. I’ll see her again when I turn in my things. I
plan to give her a few days to cool off before asking if I can cut out a bit
early. If I’m lucky, she’ll let me finish out the week and not work the full
two weeks, especially if she can fill my shoes with Odessa at the snap of her
manicured fingers.

Heading home, I call my mom to tell her I’ll be coming home. I fill her
in on everything, and she gives me her full support.

“Can’t wait to see you, my love,” she says with her signature dramatic
flair. “It’ll be just like old times.”

I climb the stairs to my apartment, the backs of my stilettos digging
into my heels, only when I round the
corner,
I’m not
prepared for what I see.

“Mom, I’ll call you back.”