The Bad Boy Next Door (7 page)

I whimpered, staring into his eyes as he poised at the brink of slipping free of my pussy.

My folds framed the crown of his cock, a barely there connection more intense than it had a right to be.

“Now…I can do one of two things here,” he said, his body motionless, his eyes ablaze with hunger. “I can sink back into your tight, sweet pussy right now. I can fuck you the way I want to fuck you, naked and natural and without anything between us.”

My breath caught in my throat. My heart joined it.

“Or…” he continued, rolling his hips just enough to part my folds a little more with the head of his erection. “I can climb off this bed and go find a condom and then fuck you. Either way, I
am
fucking you.”

I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say.

An enigmatic shadow filled his eyes. “But I want you to know, Ronnie, there is no way I would do anything to cause you pain. I’m clean. Completely—”

Without a word, I wrapped my thighs around his hips and slammed him hard into my sex with one swift yank of my legs.

He groaned, pleasure etching his face.

“You trust me?” he asked, gazing into my eyes as he slowly stroked back out again.

I nodded, my head swimming at the incredible friction of his cock sliding against my flesh. “Insane, given the circumstances.”

He chuckled, dragging a thumb over my pebbled nipple. “There’s nothing insane about this, Ronnie. Nothing. This—” he inched back into my sex again, his thumb teasing my nipple as he did so, “—is the way it’s meant to be.”

And with that, he thrust all the way home until he filled me.

I arched beneath him, undone by the perfection of our joining, by the raw pleasure of it.

He captured the bowed column of my throat, his teeth nipping at my skin with barely restrained pressure.

I cried out, the pain of that bite flooding my sex with liquid need.

Biting on my throat again, sucking at it with equal hunger, he withdrew and then penetrated me again. And again.

I writhed and moaned and begged him to fuck me harder. Harder.

He did, the hand on my breast turning wild, his mouth on my throat the same.

When I couldn’t take any more, when I felt like I was about to explode and implode and shatter and fracture with sheer pleasure, he withdrew from me completely.

“What the fuck?” I protested on a moan.

He slid his body up mine, a hard caress that drove me wild. “You think I’m going to let you come so soon, Ronnie? When I’ve been waiting forever for this moment?”

I gasped out another moan, the frustrated breath captured by his savage kiss.

He took complete possession of my mouth, demanding I give him my tongue. I did, and he lashed it with his own, kneading my breast as he did so, his cock a rigid pole grinding against my wet pussy.

I clawed at his exquisite back, almost drowning in a raw rush of lust and pleasure.

No one in my sexual past had ever taken me like this. It was at once terrifying, exhilarating and amazing. I’d had dominating partners before, both male and female, but the way Lucas worked my body, my desire, was like a maestro.

It wasn’t until I felt him circle one of my wrists in a firm grip and yank my arm above my head—all while still fucking my mouth with his tongue—that I realized I’d lost all control of my body and want to him.

I’d lost all control to Lucas fucking Pratt.

That should have infuriated me. Instead, it flooded my pussy with wet heat.

I whimpered into his mouth, writhing beneath him again. “Lucas…” I groaned against his lips.

He didn’t stop kissing me, just dragged his mouth up to my ear. “Ronnie…” he groaned back, although I could hear the devilish delight in his voice. Even that should have pissed me off. It didn’t. It ignited in me a hunger I’d never experienced before.

“Fuck me,” I moaned, the words part plea, part curse.

His stare took mine prisoner. “Say that again.”

I rolled my hips, desperate for the feel of his cock stretching my sex to its limits; angry that he was teasing me, making me wait. “Fuck. Me,” I snarled.

He
tsk
ed at me. “Ask nicely.”

I buried my hand in his hair, balled it into a tight fist and yanked his head down to mine. “Fuck you.”

“Now there’s my Ronnie,” he murmured, penetrating me again in a single savage thrust.

“Yes,” I cried out, still gripping a fistful of his hair as I wrapped my legs around his hips and took him deeper still into my body.

We moved together, our rhythm perfectly in sync, our breath mingling as we nipped at each other’s lips, captured each other’s tongues.

I felt Lucas’s groan vibrate in his chest a heartbeat before I heard it. It was singularly the most incredibly sexy sound I’ve ever experienced. The sound of my mysterious, scary, intimidating neighbor succumbing to the pleasure I was forging in him with my body, my pussy…

It was too much. It was perfect.

And I needed more.

I needed—

With another groan, Lucas rolled onto his back, taking me with him until I straddled his hips, impaled on his cock.

“Holy fuck, yes,” I ground out, riding his shaft. The shift in position unleashed a universe of delicious new pleasure through me, and before I could do anything but claw at his chest and throw back my head, I came.

My orgasm detonated through me, hot and tight and tingling. A pulse of living electricity that seared me to my very core.

I rode his body, his hands kneading my breasts, my name falling from him over and over as his upward thrusts grew wilder, faster. And then rhythm was lost to him, and he grabbed at my hips, drove his head into the pillow and roared my name as his seed pumped into me in wild spurts.

I came again, the force of Lucas’s orgasm, the driving strokes of his cock, pushing me over the edge into another climax that stripped away any hope I had of control.

A keening cry filled the room, raw and ripe with pleasure. My cry.

“So gorgeous,” he said as he drove up into me over and over. “So perfect, so beautiful.”

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, fed by his words, his hands, his touch.

As the last pulses of my orgasm began to fade, Lucas drew me down to him and captured my mouth with his, kissing me—really kissing me—as my body milked him of his release and his hands worshipped my ass.

And then it was over. Utterly drained, I slumped onto Lucas’s upper body, my pussy gripping his still-throbbing length, my cheek mashing against his chest.

It took a second for rational thought to activate.

“Shit,” I blurted out, scrambling off him. “Did I hurt you?”

He chuckled, watching me from his back, his hands threading behind his head as I came to settle in a nervous kneel at his hip.

“I love that you’re asking, but no.”

Heart racing, I studied his face, his chest, the rest of his body. Doctor Winchester had been adamant he not do anything strenuous, and there was no other word than strenuous to describe the physical level of what we’d just done. What if I’d torn open one of his wounds, or caused whatever had made him cough up blood earlier to start making him—

“Ronnie.”

Lucas’s deep chuckle jerked my stare back to his face.

He grinned at me, devilish delight dancing in his blue eyes. “Fucking you, being fucked
by
you, could never hurt me. It can only strengthen me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, unconvinced.

He laughed again. “I’m tough,” he said, smoothing a hand up my side. “I can handle it.”

Twisting my lips, I removed his hand, placed it on his stomach and crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, tough guy,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Talk. Tell me
why
you can handle it. And while you’re telling me that, you can also tell me just who the fuck you really are and what the fuck is going on.”

H
e didn’t answer me. Not at first. It took me starting to climb off the bed before he did. Mind you, there were no words to start with. Instead, he snared my wrist in a tight grip, halting my exasperated shuffle toward the edge of the mattress.

I stopped, fixing him with a pinning glare. “No dodging or side-stepping or sweet-talking your way out of telling me, Lucas,” I ordered.

“What if I make you forget with more incredible fucking?”

Even though my tummy and pussy fluttered and constricted at his question, I held firm. “We just had
incredible fucking
,” I pointed out, “and I haven’t forgotten how you turned up at my place, nor the fact we’re in a house I didn’t know you owned, with a fully equipped gym and firing range downstairs.”

An unreadable glint filled his eyes and his jaw bunched. “You’ve been through the house, I take it.”

I nodded. “I have. Care to tell me what’s in the safe?”

“A new life.”

I blinked. “Well, that sounds ridiculously ominous.”

He grinned.

I frowned. “Care to elaborate?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Ask me about the house first.”

I frowned again. Considering I was meant to be in charge of this interrogation, I was feeling a tad
not
in charge. “Tell me about the house. How can you afford something like this? And why do I have a garage door opener for it in my car?”

“I bought the house with cash three months ago.”

“Cash?” I don’t think my eyebrows could go any higher up my forehead. “You bought it for cash. It must be worth—”

“I paid two mil for it.”

My stomach dropped. My mouth fell open. I gaped at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly. “Two mil. You bought this for two million dollars cash?”

He grinned. “I had to talk the previous owners down a few grand, of course.”

I pulled a face of mock agreement. “Oh, of course.”

He laughed. God, it was a sexy, unsettling sound. It made my nipples pebble and my tummy flutter. Damn him.

When he didn’t elaborate, I gave him a go-on glare.

He chuckled. Again, my body reacted. Damn him again. “There’s a lot of money to be made in underground professional MMA, Ronnie.”

“MMA?” I frowned for a third time. “What’s that?”

“Mixed martial arts.”

My tummy fluttered again, but this time it had nothing to do with sexual excitement and everything to do with stunned horror. “That barbaric sport where two guys try to beat the shit out of each other any way they can?”

“That’s the one.”

I swear to God, he sounded proud.

I wanted to hit him.

Instead, I shook my head. “You bought a two-million-dollar house with cash you made being a MMA fighter?”

He nodded and then changed the nod to a non-committal head wobble, his expression equally as ambiguous. “Yes and no.”

“Tell me about the
no
part,” I instructed.

He shifted on the bed. I thought he was going to reposition himself to a sitting position, but instead, he rolled onto his side, propped his head up on one hand and drew a lazy line up and down my thigh with a finger. “The
no
part isn’t pretty.”

“Neither are you,” I shot back, feeling snarky.

He smirked. “True.”

That was a lie. He was freaking gorgeous. Even with the dangerous mystery about him, he was gorgeous. Maybe even more so.

Oh man, what was wrong with me?

“Tell me about the
no
part,” I repeated, making my voice stern. I didn’t, however, move my leg. The simple caress of his finger tracing over my thigh was too…nice.

Who would have thought the words
nice
and Lucas fucking Pratt could ever go together?

His smirk slipped a little. For a moment, anger shadowed his face, and then it was gone, and it was his normal arrogant indifferent expression again. The thing was, I was starting to realize
that
expression was a façade.

“I’ve been fighting in the underground MMA circuit for many years now. Since I was fifteen,” he said, moving his gaze to where his finger touched my leg.

“Before you moved to Willow Falls?”

He nodded at my question.

“Do your parents know?”

At this question, he shook his head. “To start with, it was a way of letting off some steam. My biological father, Mom’s ex, was a prick who beat on us. I started learning how to fight back when I was ten.”

My stomach churned. I knew little about his life before his family had moved next door, and I hadn’t ever asked about it. So I didn’t now. Lucas hadn’t made me want to anyway, what with his dangerous arrogance and mocking demeanor.

“Lucas,” I whispered, letting my horror and sympathy fill my voice and face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He flicked me a quick glance. Our eyes connected for a heartbeat and then he was looking at my leg again. “It was what it was,” he said. There was nothing bitter about his declaration. Rather, it was matter-of-fact and empty. But I sensed something deep and dark in those five words. Something scary.

“Did your mom press charges?”

“Hard to press charges against a dead man.”

My stomach didn’t just churn. It twisted into a knot. Dead man?

His finger on my leg grew still. His stare stay fixed on it. “He died in a street brawl a month after Mom finally got away from him. I was fifteen.”

Got away
. Not left him. Not divorced him.

The implication behind
got away
sent a chill up my spine.

“That was the night,” he went on, “I realized how easy it is for a person to die with the right kick to the head.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, what to do. Hell, what to think.

“It was also the night I was initiated into the Trinity.”

Okay, had I thought I didn’t know what to think before?

The Trinity? One of the most notorious gangs in our city? Maybe even the US? Lucas, my asshole next door neighbor, was a member of Trinity?

Holy. Fuck.

My horror must have shown on my face. Lucas let out a ragged sigh and removed his finger from my leg. “Does it help if I say I was there for a reason?”

“What could possibly make you become a member of one of the most brutal, murderous, criminally depraved gangs around?”

I didn’t hide my contempt. Nor did I hide my disgust. I felt sick. Was I in a house paid for by drug money? Illegal prostitution? Blackmail? Violent crime? God, had I just had the most amazing sex of my life with someone who committed those horrific crimes?