Good Girl Gone Badd Read online

  And this time, I was ready for it. Eager for it. I gasped at the first blush of the kiss, and my eyes fluttered closed as he softly feathered his lips over mine. It was a tease of a kiss at first, just lips ghosting against lips.

  "Baxter," I murmured. "Stop teasing me."

  He rumbled. "Teasing you? I'd never tease you." Yet he punctuated this ridiculous statement by escaping my attempt to deepen the kiss, evading my lips and then darting in to slide his lips on mine.

  "It sure does feel like you're teasing me."

  "I'm just...makin' sure you really want it," he said, a smile curving his mouth.

  "I want it, Baxter. I really, really want it."

  He backed away so our eyes met, his hands framing and clutching my face. "Then prove it. Take what you want."

  Ah, so that was his game. Fine, then. He wanted me to prove my desire, to take what I wanted? I would. Oh, I would.

  I reached up and wrapped my hands around his head, cupping the smooth-shaven skin of his scalp just beneath the tied-back hair. Pulled him down to me--no, not just pulled, I yanked. I jerked him down more roughly than I've ever handled anyone in my entire life. Our mouths clashed with such force our teeth clicked together and our lips mashed and I tasted the iron-sweet tang of blood. There was a pang of pain, but it only served to deepen my desire, and seemed to do the same for him. Indeed, I felt as much as heard the rumble of his laugh, a sound of amused heat.

  I devoured his kiss. Took it from him and demanded more. I shoved my tongue into his mouth without finesse or gentility, and he met me fervor for fervor, clutching my face fiercely and growling in his chest, taking the fire of my kiss and returning it tenfold, kissing me harder than I'd ever been kissed. I moaned into the kiss and tasted his tongue and the tang of blood from a split lip--his or mine, I didn't know and didn't care.

  But the kiss wasn't enough.

  I wanted more.

  I gasped as I broke the kiss, and my breathing was ragged and rough as our eyes met, intensity sparking between us. I wanted to say something bold, to make it abundantly clear what I wanted, but I had no words. So I used the only thing I had: my body, my hands, my mouth. I shoved at his polo, lifting up onto my toes to rip it over his head and throw it aside. I yanked at the fly of his shorts and tugged at them until they fell off, then wasted no time removing his boxer briefs. He was naked and grabbing at me.

  I stepped back, out of his reach, gazing hungrily at his beautiful, naked body. I breathed deeply, gathering courage. I peeled off my shirt, tossed it on top of his polo, on the floor. I stared hard at him as I reached to my side and unzipped my skirt, letting it pool on the floor around my feet before toeing it aside, standing in front of him now in the lingerie I'd just purchased. And, indeed, I had purchased it for him. With him in mind. A deep, classic red, it was a sheer, see-through lace set, a bra that lifted and plumped my breasts and was sheer enough to tease him with hints of my areolae and nipples, and the underwear were...well, a whole lot of not much. A triangular wedge over my core, a strip of lace around my waist, and a thin string between my buttocks. I didn't typically wear thongs, but I was turned on wearing this, knowing how revealing it was, how erotic. Even if he hadn't seen it until now, I'd known I was wearing it for him, and I felt sexy and sultry.

  And ready.

  With his eyes on me, skating from my face to my breasts to my core and legs, I knew I'd chosen perfectly: his erection, prominently hard and thick and upright, hardened further at the sight of me in the lingerie. I could see a clear droplet of liquid beading at the very tip of his manhood, and for some reason, the sight of it made my core clench and my nipples tighten.

  I twirled in a slow circle, pausing to show him my backside, posing for him. I felt a little silly posing, rising up on my toes so my butt would lift and tighten; I stopped feeling silly the moment I heard his feral snarl.

  "Goddamn, Eva," he breathed. "Legit, I could come right here right now, just lookin' at your fine-ass body in that lingerie. You wouldn't even have to touch me, I'd just...pop."

  "But...getting to touch you is half the fun," I said over my shoulder, feeling bold, "and you touching me is the other half."

  "Then get over here so I can get that sexy fuckin' lingerie off you and get to the fun part."

  I shook my head. "No, I want to do it my way."

  Facing away, I sucked in a deep breath. I reached up behind my back to pinch-and-release my bra, letting the straps slide down my shoulders so the cups sagged off my breasts, and then I let the bra fall to the floor in front of me. Then I hooked my thumbs in the strip of lace on my hips and slid it down, wiggling my hips side to side until the thong dropped off. Straightening, I resisted the impulse to hug my arms over myself to hide my breasts, and instead stood upright, hands at my sides, and kicked the lacy, racy thong away.

  I pivoted to face him, and let him look at me.

  And look he did. For several long moments Baxter just...stared at me. Drinking me in.

  Eventually he breathed out a shaky breath. "No matter what happens, Eva, you gotta know one thing: you are, without any doubt, the single most beautiful woman I've ever known--and ever will know." He took a step toward me. "I gotta touch you now, babe. I gotta."

  "Please," I breathed. "Please touch me."

  He closed the space in a single step. His forehead nudged against mine, and his hands circled my hips. I felt his breath on my lips, and I felt his erection against me, a velvety soft presence brushing against my lower belly and my mound. I couldn't breathe, I was dizzy and shaking all over with excitement and nerves and desire and, yes, even a little fear. I embraced it all, the fear especially. I used it all to remind myself that this was real, that I was choosing this, that this was something I wanted and was taking for myself, solely because I wanted it--him, because I wanted him.

  It wasn't so much about the sex act as it was about the man. Yes, I was ferociously eager for the act, for the experience, but it was because of the wild, out-of-control need that Baxter Badd incited within me. I remembered all too well the decidedly lackluster experiences I'd had with Thomas, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever happened with Baxter tonight would be on a totally other plane of existence.

  Baxter's hands slid up my waist and then rose to cup my breasts; I already wasn't breathing, but when his rough, callused palms closed over my breasts, I sucked in a sharp whimpering breath. Then, when his thumbs brushed over my nipples, I let out the breath in a whine.

  I wanted to grasp his erection and make him come like I had before, but I also wanted to do...god, I didn't know what. Dirty things. Dark, wild, forbidden things. Things I couldn't currently imagine.

  So, instead, I started simple. I ran my hands over his biceps, and then his shoulders, relishing the hardness of the muscle and the softness of his skin. Indulging in the beauty of his statuesque, superhero's body. I slid my touch over his chest, flicked his nipples and delighted in the way he sucked in a sharp breath, and then traced the ridges and furrows of his powerful abs. Found my breath, finally, and then lost it again when his hands descended to my hips again, cupping their bell shape, and then I fought to breathe and managed only a whimper when a single finger traced the seam of my core.

  He dipped that finger inside me, nudging the button of my clitoris just enough to make me jump and whimper. And then he backed away, dropping his hands to his sides. His gaze was fierce and serious as he stared at me.

  "Go lay on the bed, Evangeline." His tone brooked no argument.

  I swallowed hard. "Don't tell me what to do, Baxter."

  His grin was quick and sudden and infectious, and he accompanied it with a wink. "Just play along, Eva. You think I'd tell you to do anything you won't enjoy?"

  "I just...I've been ordered around my whole life. I've been obedient and submissive my whole life. I don't want to do that here, with you. I don't...I don't want us having sex to be about that."

  "Then you take charge," he said. "Take what you want from me. Order me arou
nd. I'm serious. I can play the game, babe. I want you to have a night you'll never forget."

  I stepped forward and let my fingertips trail down his belly, finally allowed myself to wrap one hand around his manhood. "Baxter, what I want is for you to...to not tell me what to do but instead to show me what to do. I'm not into power games, or any kind of games at all." I gathered my courage, dredged up my daring, let the deepest, darkest, dirtiest desires bubble up and emerge as words. "What I want, Baxter, is for you to fuck me, make love to me, have sex with me, whatever you want to call it. Give me a thousand orgasms. Show me what I've never had. Just...don't talk to me about it, don't tell me what to do--show me. I don't need words, I need action."

  He rumbled a laugh. "Clear enough, babe. You want action, I'll give you action." He slid a finger deep inside me, curling it, making me weak in the knees. "I'm a talker, though, and that ain't somethin' I can just quit."

  He withdrew his finger, scooped me up in his arms, and carried me a few steps, and physically threw me onto the bed. I hit the mattress on my back, bounced once, and then he was on the bed, prowling toward me on all fours like the wild beast he was. His grin was feral and ravenous.

  "Know what I'm gonna do now, Eva?" he murmured, his voice rumbling from his chest.

  I squirmed, rubbing my thighs together, unsure what to do with my hands. My breasts were pulled to either side by gravity, which wasn't a flattering look, in my opinion, so I hugged my arms around them on either side, propping them back up where they belonged.

  "Um...make me come?" I suggested.

  He was above me, his knees on either side of my calves, his fists braced in the mattress beside my shoulders. "Well, yes. But how do you think I'm gonna do that?"

  I shrugged. "With your hands? Like before?"

  He used one hand to grab both of my wrists, pinning them together in his one huge paw, and then brought them up over my head.

  I squirmed against his hold. "Why are you holding my hands like this?"

  "So you don't pose for me." He kept hold of my hands, dipping his upper body down to press his mouth against my throat, forcing me to tip my chin up.

  "I wasn't posing, I just...I don't like the way my breasts look, hanging and saggy like this..." I twisted my torso so my breasts swayed.

  He growled deep in his chest, bearlike. "I fuckin' love that look." He sucked my left nipple into his mouth, flicked it with his tongue, and then slid his mouth across to the right side, and repeated the movement. "I love seein' these fuckin' incredible tits of yours bare and natural. And babe, they ain't saggy. They're goddamn perfect, naturally perfect. Only way they'd stay upright when you're layin' down is if they're full of silicone, and while I don't mind that look, I like this one better."

  He let go of my wrists and cradled a breast in his palm, bringing it to his mouth so he could twiddle the nipple with his tongue until I was gasping and writhing. "For real, the way you look, Eva? The body you got? You should be the most stuck-up, arrogant, snobby bitch in the world. You are literally the perfect woman. You could snap your fingers and point and have literally any man, every man in the whole fuckin' world at your feet, beggin' for ten seconds to just fuckin' look at you. Wars have been fought over women as perfect as you are."

  "You're crazy," I breathed.

  "Yeah, maybe. That ain't relevant to the fact that you're fuckin' perfect." He inched lower, kissing down to my diaphragm. "Back to the matter at hand. Yes, I'm gonna make you come. But no, I ain't gonna use my hands."

  "You're--you're not?" I squeaked.

  Lower yet, his tongue circling my navel. "Nope." His lips pressed a line of hot wet kisses down to the swell of my core. "You know what I'm gonna do, Eva?"

  "What, Baxter? What are you going to do?" I breathed the question, desperate to hear him say it, and even more desperate for him to do what I thought he was about to do.

  "I'm gonna lick your pussy until you scream my name. I'm gonna kneel between your thighs and I'm gonna worship at the altar of your sweet, beautiful, innocent pussy and I ain't gonna stop until you've come so hard so many times you won't know which fuckin' way is up."

  "Oh god..." I gasped. "Please. Please, please Baxter. Please do that. Right now."

  He slid backward off the bed, kneeling on the floor, and hauled me by my ankles down the mattress until my bottom was nearly hanging off the edge, and he gently, reverently parted my thighs, resting my feet on his shoulders. "Is that an order, Evangeline?"

  I stared at him, my eyes wide, my breathing ragged. "Yes, Baxter. That's an order."

  He laughed. "I love it when you beg me to do shit to you. And I love it even more when you order me to do shit to you."

  "Then I'm both begging and ordering you to do...what you said."

  "Say it, Eva. Please. Say it for me. Say what you want me to do. You know how horny it makes me when you talk dirty to me."

  I swallowed as he kissed the inside of my left thigh, low, near my knee. "Baxter, will you please...oh--oh god, that feels good--will you please...lick my--my...my pussy?" That felt...amazing. Saying that. It felt almost as good as his mouth did, ascending the inside of my thigh, kissing upward closer and closer to my core...to my pussy. I wanted to say it again, to taste the words, to relish their dirtiness. "Lick my pussy, Baxter."

  "Yes ma'am, Evangeline." I watched him, not daring to take my eyes off him as he began all over again, starting a line of hot, sucking kisses at my right knee upward, closer and closer to my core.

  I propped myself up on my elbows so I could see better, watching raptly as his lips touched my flesh at mid thigh, then higher, and higher. I held my breath as he paused, my lungs frozen as his warm damp breath huffed over my vagina. I stared, unblinking, not breathing, waiting, waiting, wanting. And then it happened. His lips brushed against my core, pressing a literal kiss against me, lips to...well, lips. God, so hot. So erotic. His mouth was on my vagina. His lips were pressed against my pussy. I ached, just thinking the words. And then...ohhhhh, and then his tongue slid up the seam, ever so softly parting me. I whimpered, then, as he repeated the slide of his tongue up the seam, again and again. Every time his tongue ran wet and warm along the seam, I whimpered. And then his hands grazed up my thighs and his thumbs pressed against my outer labia and held them apart, and I ceased breathing entirely until the moment his tongue flicked, just once, against my clitoris. And then, at the moment of contact, a searing bolt of lightning blistered through me, shaking me, seizing me in a fierce, hot fist and squeezing me, from the core outward.

  "Oh my god!" I shrieked, "Baxter! Oh god, Baxter. Do that again!"

  He rumbled a laugh. "You like that, do you?"

  "It's the best thing I've ever felt in my life!"

  "Best thing you've ever felt, ever?"

  "Ever."

  "Then by all means, my lady, allow me to continue." And continue he did.

  Using the pads of his thumbs to separate the lips of my pussy, he ran his tongue over the opening of my channel and then to my clit, and then did it again. And then he flickered his tongue inside me, a strange, wet, warm, wriggling sensation that left me breathless, aching, unable to even gasp. Alien, bizarre, yet so so so amazing. I never wanted this to stop. I didn't even want to orgasm yet, I just wanted to feel his tongue and lips on my pussy, on my clit, inside me. Again and again, he licked against the opening and then my clit, and then slid his tongue in, withdrew it, flicked my clitoris, slid his tongue back in, then licked me top to bottom. There was no pattern, which was maddening and amazing at the same time. Because I'd partially lied to myself: I did want to orgasm. I wanted it so bad, now, that it was nearly physical pain. And I sensed that unless he gave me a pattern and rhythm I could sink into, I wouldn't be able to reach that plateau.

  "Baxter..." I moaned. He hummed an interrogatory mmm-hmmm? without stopping what he was doing. "I need..."

  He flicked my clitoris with his tongue, and then backed away to murmur, "Tell me what you need, Eva."

  "I need to come."
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  "You want to come, huh?"

  I gasped. "Yes, so bad. I don't just want to, I need to."

  "In that case, Eva..." He slid a middle finger inside me and curled it, massaging a specific spot high and deep inside me that sent insanity blasting through me, wild and bashing heat that squeezed my core and my belly and my mind in a vise grip, "I think you should come. Right...now."

  After he said the word now, he fluttered his tongue against my clit, and then sucked it between his teeth, his finger gliding in and out of my channel, and then he finally gave me a rhythm, his tongue circling around my clitoris in rapid circles, and the heat and the squeezing pressure exploded through me, took over, and I lost all control over my body, my mind, my mouth.

  I felt myself screaming out loud as I came, an orgasm so powerful I was helplessly lost within the rippling tsunami of ecstasy. I was thrashing as I screamed, and I had Baxter's head in my hands and my hips were flexing; I was wantonly grinding my pussy against Baxter's mouth, taking every lick he gave me and demanding more.

  But he didn't stop. Not when I came. He licked and slid that finger in and out, and then when the orgasm began to crest and fade, he added a second finger and used those two fingers to mimic sex and his flicking, circling tongue changed rhythms, patterns, and directions. Instead of circling, he flicked it side to side, occasionally using his lips to create suction. And with the change in tactics, I felt another wave begin to build inside me and I embraced it, accepted it, welcomed the onslaught of pleasure. Baxter fed the nascent orgasm, carefully and skillfully building it to a crescendo, and I tumbled over the edge a second time, screaming yet again, clutching his head as it shook side to side, his tongue flicking back and forth across my clitoris.

  He still wasn't done.

  He withdrew his fingers and just kissed my core, slowly, softly. He let the heat and pressure fade, just a little, and then began slowly building it back up again with a combination of circles and back-and-forth motions of his tongue, giving me one finger, and then two, and then one, mimicking sex and then massaging that spot inside me.