A Wifey for the Bad Boy(183)

“What?” Now Chad was sitting up. “Why would you think that? Claire, you’re beautiful!”

“Yeah,” Claire scoffed. “Because fat can be beautiful,” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey,” Chad said, cupping her face. “You can call yourself ‘fat’ all you want, but all I see is a beautiful woman with a brain that could top all of the lawyers at my father’s firm—”

Claire moved before she could think, cutting him off with a kiss. He was rigid for a moment, obviously caught by surprise, but then he melted against her, moving his lips as he found places for his hands.

“Chad,” Claire murmured, pulling away to turn her head and kiss him again. He growled at the feel of it, slipping a hand into her hair to pull her close and grind his lips to hers, his tongue prodding until she opened wide. He urged her to move with his hands, and soon she found herself on her back with a hand down her panties.

“C-Chad!” she pulled away, her two hands on his muscular arm.

“Oh?” he asked cheekily. “Did I find your sweet spot?” Claire could only moan in response, his fingers hot against her opening as he found his way inside. When he rubbed against a certain bundle of nerves, she arched her back and gasped.

“Chad,” she gasped, yanking on his shirt. “I can’t...” Swallowing, she tried again, “Please, I need you in me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Using his thumb to pull down his briefs, Claire watched his dick spring free. It was just as she’d remembered it, though she could tell that he’d taken up manscaping at some point.

A scrape of wood and she could barely make out that he was opening a drawer in the darkness, though the little square of plastic he took from it was much more recognizable. Ripping it open with his teeth, Chad put the condom on while he continued to rub circles around her opening. It wasn’t as intense as the feeling of his fingers inside of her, but it was a warm, buzzing sensation that made her stomach melt.

Chad pulled her underwear down her pale legs, kissing her meaty thighs as he went. By the time he had come back up to her face, she was a blushing mess.

He stared into her eyes as he moved his hips over hers, and kissed her when he entered.

Claire gasped at the sensation. Chad stilled, but she shook her head. “Keep going,” she moaned, scraping her nails down his back. He kissed her forehead, and pulled out just to thrust back in.

It was like college all over again—Claire couldn’t keep her voice down, while Chad simply breathed deeper and kissed her neck. He even remembered to do that little thing she liked, the slow grind as he entered her, and she couldn’t help but tense up at the feeling. She was close.

“C-Chad,” she moaned, clenching up as she felt it coming. Chad moved faster, perfectly aware of what was happening, and she gasped through her release. Chad kissed her cheek before speeding up, his own orgasm seconds away.

“Claire!” he hissed, and she ran her hands over his back, holding him to her. Chad only nuzzled against her and breathed as his orgasm rocked him.

“So,” he said, finally rolling to his side while keeping a warm hand on her stomach. “I’m thinking about tearing down that connector wall and just making this one big bedroom.”

Claire laughed to herself. “Do whatever you’d like, I don’t live here.”

“You could,” he said. “You can.” Holding her closer, he asked, “Would you?”

Claire was too tired to respond, so instead she just kissed him goodnight and cuddled close for sleep.



THE END





Bad Boy to the Rescue





Bad Boy to the Rescue



Chapter 1

“So what's been going on at work? Your boss still giving you a hard time?” Danny asked, taking a long sip of whiskey and wiping the drops off his scratchy stubble. He leaned on the bar and his dark hair drooped over his forehead, looking all broody and mysterious. As they passed, women were drawn to him and when they caught his eyes their hearts fluttered with desire as they imagined what a night with him would be like. He had an edge to him, a roughness that meant he was unpredictable and wild, and this was exuded from him in a way that seemed to pull people towards him. He couldn't explain it, and neither could the women that fell for him, some of whom were already married or in relationships, and yet when they came across this fine specimen they were helpless and slaves to their base desires.

The only one immune to this affect was the woman sitting beside him, his best friend, Carrie. The two of them were enjoying their bi-weekly late night drink together. She had a glass of white wine and her fingers were resting on the gold edge of the bar.