Good Girl Gone Badd Read online

  I guess I'm in that minority, then.

  When he said he just had to come, I backed away and let him fall out of my mouth, giving my jaw and throat a quick break before the big show. I just gazed up at him, stroking him to keep him on the edge. Smiled at him. Kissed the tip of his cock, and he grunted, thumbed my cheekbone, shaking his head at me with a grin that was...

  Loving, maybe.

  "Killin' me, Eva."

  "Not yet," I breathed. "But I'm about to."

  "Fuck."

  I grinned at him. "Remember everything I talked about? Give it all to me. Don't hold back. I can take it." I demonstrated, by taking his cock into my mouth and down my throat until I gagged, held there, bobbed shallowly, gagging, and backed away. "I like taking it."

  "Fucking holy goddamn shit."

  I laughed. "Are you ready, Bax?"

  He shook his head. "Fuck no."

  "Good."

  I kissed the head of his cock again--because I loved his cock and because he seemed to find amusement when I did so--and then I slid him between my lips, deep, deep, deeper. Changed angles so I could look up at him, and then leaned forward, breasts swaying as I began to truly go down on him in earnest. Thrills raced through me, pebbling my skin, as he began grunting and even making soft, high-pitched noises--those were my favorite. I went after those high-pitched moans, sliding him deep and backing away, and I got them from him, noises I don't think he'd ever made before.

  No hands, now.

  I wrapped them around his ass, clawed my fingers in, a subtle encouragement. Pulled at him...a not so subtle encouragement.

  His hands gripped my hair tightly, and he hunched over me and started thrusting.

  I adjusted to accommodate this, backing away so he could thrust as deeply as he wanted.

  Fuck, this was hot.

  He fucked my throat, then, and I let out a moan as he did so, bobbing into his thrusts.

  God, yes.

  I gagged on him, clawing at his ass until I was sure he'd have marks.

  "Now, Jesus, Jesus--Eva--fuck, now!"

  There was a loud honk right then, the blare of an air horn from a semi, and I started. I glanced up to see Bax giving the driver a middle finger, and there was another blare of the horn and the roar of an engine as he pulled away, leaving us alone.

  The thrill of having been seen blasted through me, and I felt myself aching, throbbing, and turned on to the point of desperation.

  And then Bax came.

  The truck had thrown off the timing, and I'd lost the preparedness of his warning, so when he unleashed, I wasn't expecting it. It made it even hotter, even more erotic, even more thrilling. He came with a roar, thrusting into my throat and then backing away, and my mouth was filled with thick hot tangy musky salty come. I swallowed it, but he was coming even more and I swallowed that, but then, just as I'd fantasized, it was too much and so unexpected that I couldn't keep up, and what I couldn't swallow spilled out around his cock, dripping down my chin. I was gagging on it, my mouth forced open by the need to breathe and swallow, and he thrust right then, into my throat, so I clutched at his cock with both hands, gazing up at him with his come trickling down my mouth, swallowing and letting even more spill out. He was still spurting, and it hit my chin, and then I took him back into my mouth and sucked, licked, swallowed as he spurted the last little bit, and I jerked his length eagerly, hard and fast, sucking it all out of him, pumping him until he sagged, and his cock was sucked dry of every last bit of his come.

  I stood up, my knees creaking and aching, and he clung to me, burying his forehead against mine.

  I laughed, and tried to kiss his forehead, but got his eye instead. "Hi."

  He groaned raggedly. "Um. Hi?" He held on to my shoulders for balance. "Eva, that was..."

  "My fantasy come true?"

  "Yours and mine both, babe." He wiped at my chin and the corners of my mouth, and I laughed when he stared at his hands as if wondering what to do next, since there was...um, a lot of come on his hands.

  I guided his hands to my dress, and he wiped his hands on the expensive material.

  "I hope you liked that fantasy--I mean, reality," I said, "because with as much as I liked doing that to you, I think it's going to be happening kind of a lot."

  He laughed deliriously. "I think I can handle that."

  I lifted a shoulder delicately. "I mean, I liked it...a lot." I ran a hand down my front, lifting the front of my dress to bare my core. "A lot, a lot."

  "That much a lot?"

  "So much I'm crazy horny." I slid a hand into my underwear, and then slid them off and stepped out of them. "I think I need help with it. I don't have a vibrator anymore. I left everything I own, and I have zero dollars." I gazed up at him, touching myself. "Whatever will I do?

  "I dunno, lady," he drawled. "I think I might know a couple things."

  "Think you could show me some of them?"

  He hiked up his pants, zipped them but didn't button them, and then lifted me into the air and set me on the bike, side-saddle style. Spread my legs apart, and leaned in; the motor was cool by now, so I could rest against the pipes. He draped my feet over his shoulder and made me scream...oh, I don't know how many times: I didn't bother counting.

  We were honked at twice while he ate me out, and I came all the harder for it.

  "I think I got a little exhibitionist on my hands," Bax said, as we finished re-dressing.

  "Maybe so," I agreed. "We'll find out together."

  "Guess we will, love, guess we will."

  That was a new one. In the time I'd known him, he'd called me sweetheart, sweet thing, babe, baby, honey, girl, lady, woman, all kinds of different terms...but never once had he called me love.

  A quick, sharp glance at his face told me it hadn't been a slip.

  "Yeah, love," I echoed, "I guess we will."

  It was the first time I'd used a term of endearment for anyone in my life, and I liked the way it tasted on my lips, almost as much as I liked the lingering musk of his come on my lips.

  "Take me home," I told him.

  "Home?"

  "Yeah. Home...to Ketchikan, Alaska."

  Epilogue

  Corin

  * * *

  Cane and I have known Tate and Aerie Kingsley our whole lives. They went to school with us all the way from kindergarten to middle school, at which point their pretentious dingbat of a mother, Rachel, moved them to New York in search of better things than what Ketchikan had to offer. Well, actually, she left them in Ketchikan first, for a while, letting her folks raise the girls. Then, when she met Bob the investment banker, she popped back up here long enough to pack 'em up and move 'em out.

  That was the year we started high school. By junior year, Canaan and I were already on our fourth band, Bishop's Pawn, the one that took us into the big time. We'd started out gigging locally, and then as far as Anchorage, and then Vancouver and Seattle, and then down the West Coast to LA and San Francisco and San Diego. We barely graduated high school, since we were too busy gigging to bother with petty boring bullshit like grades or attendance. We worked out a deal with the principal, who was a former drummer in a successful band himself, whereby we would turn in assignments remotely and check in with him regularly via email, and he'd pass us. It worked out, and we even got those diplomas early, which freed us up to start taking gigs across the country, in places like New York.

  On our first gig in New York, the first thing we did was look up the Kingsley twins.

  I mean, you can imagine we were close, being two different sets of identical twins, a boy set and a girl set. Lots of talk, lots of gossip. But, strangely enough, that's all it has ever been: gossip. All the four of us ever were was friends. We chilled together, went to the mall and to movies, got stoned together, that kinda thing. I think we all thought of trying to hook up, but we just...never did. Not with each other. The girls hooked up with the popular guys and the jocks, and Cane and I hooked up with...well, anyone we could, honestly
, and we even talked about our various hookups. But it never led to anything between us. Which is just...funny, isn't it?

  I mean, those girls are fuckin' fine as fuck, man. And cool, funny, sophisticated, and a little crazy. Canaan and I, obviously, are somewhat less than normal, too, being tattooed, bona fide rock stars by sixteen, rarely actually at school. popping in for a week or two here and there. It's a match made in heaven. Right?

  Wrong.

  It just never happened. Damned if I know why, and damned if Cane knows why, seeing as we've discussed this ad nauseam. Why haven't we hooked up with Tate and Aerie? One of us would ask, and the other would answer with damn if I know, bro, and we'd start in on how cool the girls are, how hot they are, or we'd talk about the various projects the girls had worked on, the girls being crazy creative themselves. Photography, painting, performance art, graffiti, weird avant-garde music, you name it, the girls had tried it. And every damn thing they did was fucking amazing: Brilliant, stunning, a tour de force, as the critics might say.

  They never tried to monetize it into a career, though, and seemed weirdly content to go along with their nutty-as-a-fruitcake mother's plan to turn them into New York socialites, paragons of virtue and sophistication.

  Those girls are a lot of shit, but paragons of virtue, they ain't. We know this, and we know it for a fact, from their own mouths, having discussed--as mentioned--in detail, the various sexual arts we'd all gotten up to.

  Wait, you're confused.

  They moved to New York, I'd said.

  See, we always just connected, and on a personal level. We got each other in a way no one else did. Twins understand twins, and artists understand artists. But to have twins who are artists? Finding that? That's a one in a trillion to the third power kind of rarity. So when Rachel The Fruit Loop moved the girls to New York, we stayed in touch. We emailed in giant CC chains, and texted in a constantly-buzzing group text thread, we FaceTimed and Skyped, and we even wrote actual, stupid, wrist-cramping letters, and we chilled for old time's sake whenever all four of us happened to be in Ketchikan in the summers--anything to retain that mystical, golden connection to the only pair of people on the goddamn planet who understood us.

  It got harder as Cane and I got bigger in the music world, and as Tate and Aerie got bigger in the hoity-toity world of upper crust New York City. We kept in contact, but it got nearly impossible to keep the connection as strong as it had once been, especially when we started touring overseas and they did semesters in Paris and London and Rome.

  Then, we got the call that Dad had died--the awful, unthinkable horror.

  We kicked free of the tour, which had sucked mightily, since we'd been touring with bands we'd grown up idolizing, but our fucking dad had just died so obviously we had to go, and may the consequences get fucked like a cheap hooker.

  The connection almost snapped, then.

  We got sucked into the whirlwind that was eight Badd brothers all grown up and in one place, each of us with wild hairs up our asses, and the girls were just everywhere at once doing I don't even know fucking what, posting on Insta from Rome and then Tahiti and then New York, and then Dubai, all within a month.

  Now, they were back in Ketchikan, indefinitely.

  Or, sort of. They were going to be back. I'd kind of lied to Bax: the girls weren't actually in Ketchikan yet, but we'd had a group video chat in which the girls informed us that they'd decided they needed an indefinite break from being world famous social media darlings--their words--and in which I'd learned, via Aerie's babblesome rambling, about the announcement that Eva was marrying Thomas, a wedding which had been speculated about for years but had never quite materialized. Aerie had said, blah blah blah, an off again on again relationship blah blah blah, all the rumor mills were that Thomas was a horrible sot and a philandering womanizer and just a real jerk blah blah blah.

  That long rambling train of thought? That's what it's like to talk to the girls. So yeah, buckle up, ya'll.

  This here gon' be fuuun.

  The girls are back in town; the boys are back in town...

  And though Cane and I haven't outright discussed it, we've decided we want to figure out once and for all why we haven't hooked up with those fine-ass Kingsley twins, and do something about it.

  Tate for Cane, Aerie for me.

  Right?

  Ehhhh...it might be a little more complicated than that, methinks.

  This is two sets of identical twins we're talking about here, and ain't not a one of us any kind of normal, ya'll.

  Meaning--translating my Corin is a crazy lunatic nonsense--

  I have no idea what that means, actually.

  Just that whatever happens, it probably won't be like any of us are expecting.

  See...when we had the group video chat, the girls were whispering a lot to each other in little private asides, which was normal. What wasn't normal was the weird gleam in their eyes, or the way the camera angles had somehow worked in our favor, meaning we were getting "accidental" down-blouse looks at their fine-ass titties.

  Them's just might be into us, Brother Cane, I'd said to him.

  Yessir, they rather do seem to be, Brother Corin, he'd replied.

  Heh. We're so funny.

  You ever tie a sparkler to a cat's tail, and then try to hold on to it?

  That's kind of like the Kingsley twins.

  Like I said...this here is gonna be fun.

  Crazy, but fun.

  I hope.

  Also by Jasinda Wilder

  Visit me at my website: www.jasindawilder.com

  Email me: [email protected]

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  My other titles:

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  The Preacher's Son: Unbound

  Unleashed

  Unbroken

  * * *

  Biker Billionaire: Wild Ride

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  Big Girls Do It: Better (#1), Wetter (#2), Wilder (#3), On Top (#4) Married (#5)

  On Christmas (#5.5)

  Pregnant (#6)

  Boxed Set

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  Rock Stars Do It: Harder

  Dirty

  Forever

  Boxed Set

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  From the world of Big Girls and Rock Stars: Big Love Abroad

  * * *

  Delilah's Diary: A Sexy Journey

  La Vita Sexy

  A Sexy Surrender

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  The Falling Series: Falling Into You

  Falling Into Us

  Falling Under

  Falling Away

  Falling for Colton

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  The Ever Trilogy: Forever & Always After Forever

  Saving Forever

  * * *

  The world of Alpha:

  Alpha

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  Omega

  Harris: Alpha One Security Book 1

  Thresh: Alpha One Security Book 2

  Duke: Alpha One Security Book 3

  Puck: Alpha One Security Book 4

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  The world of Stripped: Stripped

  Trashed

  * * *

  The world of Wounded:

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  Captured

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  The Houri Legends: Jack and Djinn

  Djinn and Tonic

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  The Madame X Series: Madame X

  Exposed

  Exiled

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  Badd Brothers: Badd Motherf*cker

  Badd Ass

  Badd to the Bone

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  The Black Room

>   (With Jade London):

  Door One

  Door Two

  Door Three

  Door Four

  Door Five

  Door Six

  Door Seven

  Door Eight

  Deleted Door

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  The One Series

  The Long Way Home

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  Standalone titles: Yours

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  Non-Fiction titles: Big Girls Do It Running Big Girls Do It Stronger

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  Jack Wilder Titles: The Missionary

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  JJ Wilder Titles: Ark

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