Good Gone Bad (The Fallen Men 3)

When I didn’t answer, he slammed his thick dick straight to the root in my grasping pussy, the wet sounds of our sex drowned by my scream.

“Look at me.”

It took a long minute, but I was finally able to peel my eyes open to stare at his face, overcome with an intensity so stark it was unbearably beautiful. I wanted to cup his face, touch my tongue to his hard mouth to soften it with my kiss, and hold him to me softly, as if I trusted him to stay there with or without my hold.

But I didn’t dare.

That wasn’t how this game was played.

He fucked me like he hated me, and it was the best lie he ever told.

I took it like I didn’t care either way, and it was a lie I didn’t even believe myself.

He bit down on my neck and planted himself deep in my pussy as I came all around him, and then he did too, his cock thumping inside me as he came.

Carefully, he slid my legs off his shoulders, shrugged off his jacket and tugged off his shirt, before handing the latter to me so I could pull it on over my naked torso and ruined tights. Then he took my face in his hands and stared deep into my eyes, as if reassuring himself that I was there.

“Tell me a lie,” I told him, to remind him of the duality of our game.

“I hate you,” he replied like he’d been waiting for me to ask. “I hate you with my whole body and all of my soul.”

I kissed him, my apology for being reckless more eloquent on my lips than it ever could be with my words.

And he accepted it, eating at my mouth until I was clean and absolved. Forgiving me as he always did, as I knew he always would.

2017

Harleigh Rose is 17. Danner is 26.

The party was wild.

The first time I’d ever enjoyed a high school party.

EBA and Entrance Public had joined forces to host a massive spring blow out in one of the fields on the outskirts of town.

Just minutes away from Danner’s house.

I tried not to think of that as I sipped my warm beer and chatted with Lila.

“Seriously, it’s like I’m sexless to him,” she complained for the millionth time. “I mean, do I look sexless to you?”

I checked her out even though I knew what she looked like better than nearly anyone. Long chestnut brown hair that fell in straight, glossy sheets to her belly button, lots of exposed golden skin over muscle carved thighs, a toned tummy and round, full breasts currently pushed up in a sleeveless, torn tee that read “reckless.”

She was definitely not sexless.

Any of the boys at the bonfire would have been happy to dissuade her of that ridiculous notion.

But she didn’t want any of those high school boys.

Much like me, she was into older men.

One in particular, ‘Nova’ Booth, one of the brothers in my father’s Fallen MC. He was like an older brother to me, but he’d always been more than that to Lila.

Hell, he was the reason she was a de facto part of the club in the first place. He’d been the reason I’d met her in elementary school, and he was the reason the club kept her close despite her not being his old lady.

She was like his kid sister.

Twelve years younger than him.

Not that age usually stopped Nova from tapping a hot piece of ass, but Lila was different. They’d grown up next-door neighbors and been through a lot of shit together. There was absolutely no way he would go there.

I knew it and Lila did too.

She just didn’t like it.

“You could be Marilyn fuckin’ Monroe and he wouldn’t touch you, babe,” I told her. “We know this.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled into her beer, then brightened again. “I’ve decided to get a tat.”

I groaned. “Jesus, Lila, are you that desperate to have Nova’s hands on you?”

“Don’t be a bitch,” she groused. “I’m not a bitch to you about the fact that you have a thing for a fuckin’ cop.”

“You know he’s more than that,” I shot back.

“And you know me wanting a tattoo is more than what you implied it was,” she countered.

We glared each other for a minute before I hit her softly with my hip in a physical version of an apology.

“What do you want and where?” I asked, waving the white flag.

She smiled dreamily. “Flowers.”

I snorted. Nova called her his “flower child” because she was always dressing like a slutty hippie. Acting like one too, minus the slutty, because she was saving her v-card for Nova.

She’d be a virgin for life.

“I’m gonna go grab some more beer, want any?” I asked.

“Nah, I’m good, I’m gonna go shoot the shit with Taylor and Kelly.”

I tipped my chin at her and weaved through the crowd towards the kegs situated on the far side of the bonfire to keep them sorta cool.