Good Girl Gone Badd Read online

Again, I reached the crescendo and fell over the edge, screaming.

  And this time, instead of wordless screams of bliss, I screamed his name. "Baxter! Oh god, Baxter! Yes, yes, yes!"

  The orgasms had done me in, left me limp and gasping, and aching, and his touch, no matter how soft or gentle, was too much, too much, almost painful. I was so incredibly hypersensitive that I couldn't bear another touch.

  "Bax, you have to stop. I can't take any more." I pulled at his head, tugging him up.

  He crawled up my body, hovering over me. "Eva honey, I'm just getting started."

  I stared up at him. "Y-you are?" The stammer should have been embarrassing, but somehow it wasn't.

  "You on birth control?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "No. It messes with my hormones and makes me moody, so I stopped. Plus, it's not like I have any reason to be on it, since I don't have sex."

  He rose off me. "Be right back."

  "Where are you going?" I asked, hating his absence from above me.

  "Out to the truck. There are some condoms in the center console."

  And just like that, he was out the door, still naked, still erect. He left the door wide open, letting the brilliant sunlight of early evening stream in to bathe me. I could see him, and the truck. He yanked open the driver's side door, leaned in, his taut buttocks flashing in the golden sunlight, rummaged around for a moment, and then withdrew and closed the door, trotting back in. He had a string of square, golden condom wrappers in one hand, and as he trotted his erection swayed side to side. Leaving the cabin door open, he swaggered over to stand at the foot of the bed. Ripping one packet free, he tossed the rest aside and climbed onto the bed.

  "You keep condoms in the center console of your truck?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "My brothers and I all share the truck, so it's a shared stash. We keep 'em there as a just-in-case precaution. Better to have 'em when you need 'em, you know?"

  "So you guys are very...um, active?"

  He laughed. "Babe. You met my brothers. What do you think?"

  I wasn't sure how I felt about that. "I see your point." I eyed the one in his hand, and the other four or five he'd tossed aside. "How many do you plan on using, may I ask?"

  He grinned at me. "As many as I can." He tossed the golden foil packet at me, and it landed on my belly. "Starting with that one."

  I swallowed, realizing he wanted me to open the condom and put it on him. "I've never..." I lifted a shoulder, "done that before."

  He inched closer. "Be a fun time to learn, then, yeah?"

  I swallowed again, blinking. I took the packet in my hands and sat up, then gingerly and carefully ripped it open and withdrew the latex ring.

  Glancing at it, and then at him, I gestured with it. "Is there a right way to put it on?"

  He nodded, taking it from me, pinching at a little bubble near the top. "See that? That's the part that goes on me. Then you just...roll it on."

  I let out a shaky breath, moving to sit on my shins. "I did take sex ed in school, did the whole thing with the banana and all that...but it's been a long time since then and my only other experiences were--"

  He reached out and touched my chin with a fingertip, interrupting me. "Eva, sweetheart, relax. You're nervous. Not your first time, but your first time in a long time. It's cool. Be nervous. Take your time. Ask questions. I'm not laughing at you, and I'll never tease you, not about this kinda thing."

  He moved closer, lowering to sit on his shins like I was, and wrapped his other hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in, slanting his lips across mine. I sighed into the kiss and gave myself over to it. I knew what he was doing: distracting me, using the kiss to silence my doubts, using my libido to eradicate my nerves. I knew he was doing it, and I was grateful. I sank into the kiss, wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, traced the smoothness of the shaved sides of his head, and then tugged his hair free of the ponytail and ran my fingers through the thick, silky brown locks. His tongue explored my mouth, and mine explored his, and his hands found places to roam, and mine followed suit as well. He pressed the condom into my hands and played with my breasts, thumbing my nipples and hefting the weight of each breast in turn, and I palmed his pec and then his buttocks, and then finally I let my hand drift to his erection. I moaned in delight as the iron-hard, springy, velvety shaft filled my hand, and I stroked him, caressed him, re-familiarizing myself with the organ.

  And then I broke the kiss. Met his gaze, and let him see that I was still nervous, but even more...well, horny. I wanted to come again. I wanted to feel his erection. I wanted to watch him orgasm, I wanted to be the one to make him feel that good, so good he was an animal, feral, wild, out of control. I wanted to give him what he'd given me.

  I wanted to feel him inside me; I wanted to know how that felt. I wanted to be the thrashing, moaning, sweat-glistening, heaving-breasted, wantonly erotic woman in the pornography I watched, the one on her back as a muscular beast of a man with an enormous penis drove into her.

  All this flashed through my head in the few seconds of eye contact, and then I shifted my gaze downward.

  To Baxter's cock.

  God, I loved that word. I decided I would use it more often. Cock. I loved the sight of Baxter's cock, almost as much as I loved the way it felt in my hands. I pinched the bubble at the center of the condom, placed it onto the top of Baxter's cock, and gingerly rolled the latex downward. Slowly, hesitantly. An inch or so of latex coated his shaft, and I grew bolder, using a caressing motion to roll it the rest of the way onto his massive manhood.

  When it was all the way on, I admired my handiwork. Grinned up at him. "I liked doing that."

  He palmed my buttocks with both hands and hauled me closer. "Then I'll let you do it next time, 'cause I sure as hell liked letting you do it."

  He leaned into me, and his arms wrapped around me, and I felt myself tipping backward in his embrace. My thighs were wedged apart by his waist, and his weight pinned me against the bed, even though I knew he was bracing most of his weight on his arms. His lips brushed mine, and I immediately seized his mouth with mine, taking a wild, heated kiss from him as his fingers explored my pussy, brushing my clit, testing my channel.

  He was above me, and I felt the tip of his cock nudging my entrance. "You ready, Eva?"

  I swallowed, my heart hammering. Then I nodded. "Yes."

  He grinned down at me. "You sure?"

  I clutched at his buttocks. "Totally sure. I need it, Baxter. Please."

  Leaning backward and lifting up, he reached between us and gripped his erection in one hand. "Watch, Eva." He nudged the tip against me, pressing in ever so slightly. "Watch me put it in you."

  "God, yes." I lifted up, craning my neck to watch. I glanced at him, and then back down to where we were seconds and mere millimeters from joining. "Now, Baxter."

  His hips flexed gently, carefully, and he slid into me an inch or so. Only a tiny portion of his length, but I felt split apart, my eyes widening at the feel of him inside me. So...much. Yet it wasn't even a third of him.

  "Touch yourself, Eva. I wanna watch you make yourself come while I put my cock inside you." He growled the words, and it was an order.

  But this one time, I didn't mind--it was exactly what I wanted. My fingers flew to my core, and I touched myself with two fingers, like I did at home in my dorm, alone, watching porn. It took less than a minute for the orgasm to build, as I was primed by the previous three orgasms, and aroused to madness by the erotic vision of Baxter above me, a wall of solid, masculine muscle, his beautiful cock in his fist, that perfect organ splitting open my pussy. Filling it beyond bursting, to the point of pain. But the more I touched myself, the faster the pain of his enormous size inside my tight channel faded and became pleasure.

  "More," I whispered. "Give me more of it."

  He flexed his hips a little more, and my pussy swallowed another inch of him. I was nearing orgasm, now, and that wasn't enough.

  "All of it, Baxter
." I groaned, and then whimpered, and then I felt the orgasm trembling low, behind my core, and I met his gaze as my fingers flew around my clit, bringing me to climax. "NOW! God, Baxter, please...fuck me now!"

  "Jesus Christ, Eva--" he snarled, and then...he gave it all to me.

  I came.

  Screaming his name, I came as he drove the entirety of his cock into me, and it felt perfect, more than perfect, beyond perfection. It was glorious pain, an ache, a burn, a sting, a fiery raging inferno of sensation I couldn't fathom. More and more, and more. He was fully inside me, and I was coming, his hips bumped against mine and I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my face against the side of his neck.

  Baxter fucked me, then.

  He braced one fist in the pillow beside my face and stared at me, his gaze pinning mine. He slid one hand under my butt and lifted me off the bed, and his hips began pistoning. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, until he reached a steady pace, hips bumping mine, thighs slapping against me. I felt him driving in and out of me, and I gasped and shrieked each time his cock slammed into me. My fingers clawed into his shoulders, and I refused to look away from him, refused to let him look away from me as he fucked me, and fucked me, and fucked me.

  And I gloried in every single second of it. Every movement, every thrust. Each slap of our bodies meeting, I loved. I moved with him, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts, and then he began moving even faster and I felt an orgasm building up inside me, a fourth one. I wanted it, felt it coming, and I knew it would be the most potent and powerful one yet, and I needed it, and I knew the only way to get it was to fuck him back, to fuck him harder, to take it.

  And that's what I did. I fucked him back, and I fucked him harder.

  I got the orgasm. It hit me like an earthquake, ripping through me with the smashing intensity of a runaway freight train.

  I screamed until I was hoarse, and that's when I felt Baxter reach his own climax.

  He began to grunt and snarl, and his movement became frantic, and his eyes closed.

  "No--look at me, Bax," I snapped. "I want to watch you."

  He lifted up and grabbed my hips in both hands, and I palmed my breasts for him, offered them to him as he fucked me to his own orgasm. He accepted my offering, burying his face between my breasts as he snarled, and his hips slammed with furious, frenzied aggression that had me shouting YES! over and over again, in time with each thrust he gave me, because it felt so damn good and he was so beautiful, so rugged, so masculine, and him fucking me was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen, ever felt.

  And then he came, and that was the most indelibly, unforgettably erotic moment of my entire existence.

  He reared up, roared like a lion and pounded into my pussy, once, twice, three times, and then he faltered, gasping, and buried his face in my breasts once more, gasping. I threaded my fingers through his hair, and cradled the back of his head, hooking my feet around the backs of his thighs, and gasped with him.

  When he lifted up, I framed his face with both hands. Emotions were running rampant through me, too many, too intense. "Bax, I--"

  He didn't shy away from the emotions I knew he saw in my eyes, on my face. "I know, Eva. Me too."

  Flopping to his back, he tugged me over so I was cradled in his arms, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat, the rough sawing of his breath. His arms were around me and this was yet another moment burned into me, onto the fabric of my mind.

  Every moment with Baxter, it seemed, was going to be burned into me.

  I felt all the emotions, and didn't dare name them, because we'd agreed this had an expiration date, and those emotions didn't fit in with that.

  7

  Baxter

  * * *

  Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

  I am in so much fucking trouble.

  That was...that wasn't just fucking. And I'm in full on freak-out mode inside, because she knew it and she knew I knew it. Same thing happened with Bast, and then it happened with Zane, and then it happened with Brock...like, in fuckin' chronological order or some shit, like this was a goddamned romance novel or something. So now, I'm supposed to believe it's happening to me, right? I'm gonna fall for the girl, and she's gonna fall for me, and some great mystical deus ex machina--yes, I do know what that is, thank you very fuckin' much--is gonna drop down from the sky to make it so we can be together in cute little happily ever after despite all the bullshit reasons our lives don't mix.

  Yeah, fuck that.

  Problem is, tell that to my heart. It's hammering away inside my chest like I just did a bunch of wind sprints and, let me tell you, my physical conditioning is fuckin' prime, okay? A little bit of nice hard fucking isn't going to make my heart pound like this. Nah son, this is straight up nerves and emotions. No way am I gonna sit here and be all introspective and turn each weird-ass fuckin' emotion over and look at it like it's a specimen on a lab table. No, nope, nuh-uh. Not doing that. What I'm gonna do is I'm gonna bury the emotions way down deep, and then I'm gonna strip the condom off my dick and throw it away, and I'm gonna dive back into the sweet and holy promised land that is Evangeline du Maurier, and her lush, eager body.

  I mean fuuuuck, the girl is a rabid tiger in the sack, man. Legit, I have never been fucked like that. Never. She wanted that shit and she wanted it hard. She went after it like...well, like a woman who's been deprived of satisfying sex her whole life, who's finally encountered a man who can give it to her properly.

  I swear on my mother's grave, if I ever come face to face with that slimy, useless, dickless, piece of shit, douchebag motherfucker Thomas Pussy-Boy Haverton, I'm going to knock his teeth so far down his skinny little neck he'll be shitting teeth for a solid week. And that, my friends, is a Baxter Badd promise.

  Because to have a woman like Evangeline in your bed and not give her as many orgasms as possible? That's a sin. It's a mortal sin against sex, against manhood, against all of humanity. Like, how could he have this woman, this incredible, perfect, smart, gorgeous, eager, fierce, sexy woman in his bed, and just hump her and dump her? How? How is that shit even possible? I do not get it. I just don't.

  I rolled off the bed, leaving Eva naked and--momentarily at least--sated, watching me curiously. I made sure to let her see what I was doing as I carefully pulled the rubber off, tied it up, and tossed it into the little garbage can under the sink in the kitchenette. Then I made a pit stop in the bathroom to take a leak, wash my hands, my face, and my cock, dry off, and then I went back to stand by the bed, staring down at Eva.

  She blinked up at me, innocent and curious. "You wash up after each time?"

  I shrugged. "Sure. Gotta stay fresh, you know? Nobody wants to be all sticky and stinky, so yeah, I wash up after each time."

  Her gaze fell to my dick, which, for the first time since she'd met me, wasn't hard. "That's what it looks like when you're not erect?" She giggled. "It's kind of..."

  I faked an angry expression. "You're laughing at my dick?"

  She paled, thinking I was serious. "No! I just...I've never seen one--" she stammered, trying to find a way out of the laughter, but each time she tried, she would glance at my cock again and the giggles would start all over, and I was still holding the angry expression, and she would try to stifle it again. "I'm sorry, Baxter, I swear I'm not--it's not..." She breathed out shakily, caught between worry that I was really angry and hit by the giggles at the sight of my flaccid cock.

  I couldn't hold on to the expression any longer, and I burst out laughing. "I'm teasing, Eva, relax. Limp dicks are inherently funny. They just are. As long as you don't laugh at me when I'm hard, we're good."

  She glared at me. "You're a jerk. I thought you were actually upset."

  "You really think I'm that sensitive?" I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. "No way. I can take a joke. I grew up in locker rooms, remember? Lots of naked dudes, lots of teasing and giving each other shit about dick sizes and whatever."

  She was eyeing my cock, agai
n. Unable to stop herself, clearly, and I sure as hell didn't mind. Let the girl look. "It's just so different. So much...smaller. I had no idea."

  "Well, I'm a grower, not a show-er."

  She frowned up at me. "What does that mean?"

  "Some guys, their cock is basically the same size all the time. When they get wood, it just gets harder. A little bigger, maybe it stands up a little straighter. They're what you call show-ers. Like, they show their actual size. Me, I'm a grower. It's like this, and then I get hard and it grows like triple the size."

  Evangeline snickered, reaching out to touch the tip. "Triple? Try quadruple, at least. Quintuple. Sextuple. Septuple. Octuple, even."

  "Octuple? You think my dick grows eight times bigger?"

  "Maybe. I'd have to measure to be certain."

  I laughed at that. "No measuring."

  "No? I was always under the impression that all men have measured themselves at least once."

  I shrugged. "I mean, maybe when we're like, thirteen and just discovering the wonder of a hard-on. Not as a grown-ass man."

  Her eyes met mine, full of curiosity and humor and arousal. "So? Did you?"

  I rolled my eyes, sighing in irritation. "Yeah, sure."

  "And?"

  "You want to know?"

  She nodded, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing me. "Yes. I really would like to know how many inches your penis is."

  I laughed. "You really do?"

  "Of course! It's part of the Baxter Badd experience. I want to be able to brag, even if just to myself, that I had sex with a man with a huge cock. And I want to be able to say how many inches it was."

  "Keep in mind I was thirteen, and men keep growing until we're at least twenty-one. So it might be more, by now." I let out another breath, because it was weirdly embarrassing. "Eight and three-quarters inches." I laughed again. "I was so pissed it wasn't a full nine."

  She blinked. "Eight and three-quarters inches? When I tell my girlfriends about this, can I just round up to nine inches?"

  "Sure." I frowned at her. "Are you really going to tell your friends about this?"

  "Would you mind?"

  I shrugged. "Hell nah. Tell away. Just make me sound good, I guess."

  Her gaze was serious, all humor gone. "It would be impossible to make you sound anything except incredible, Baxter, because that's what you are. All I have to do is tell the truth, and even then I don't think most of my friends would really believe me. They'd think I made you up, because it just has to be impossible for a man like you to really exist. If it's too good to be true, it probably is."