Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

My hand moves toward her mouth, covering it while I take what’s mine. And with just one surge, I’ve come undone, again.

My heart beats erratically, my vision slightly impaired as I try to gain control. My cock is so sensitive, the walls of her pussy clenching and making me jump slightly. I open my eyes and see her stare back at me full of rage. She pushes me again, and this time I pull myself off and collapse on the bed beside her. She’s quick to move away, grabbing her dress and covering her chest.

“Fuck you,” she shouts. “You don’t just cum inside me thinking you own me.”

I’m too tired to fight her, continuing to lie there and stare at the ceiling. But something inside my exhausted brain tells me it’s not over yet. “Oh, that’s right,” I say. “Only your husband can do that.”

&n

bsp; The steam is shooting out of her ears as she races to get her clothes on, throwing her dress over her head in one swift motion. “And to think I was going to tell you that I love you,” she sputters, momentarily beyond words. “I should save the words for someone who actually gives a fuck. Someone who loves me back.”

And with her words said loud and clear, she leaves the room, abandoning me with only my thoughts.

Love.

The four letter word that’s ruined my life.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Misery really does love company.

It’s been two weeks since the day Morgan walked out on me. I know I’ve been a prick toward her, but I refuse to conform to someone she wants me to be. A man willing to share her.

Haden and Presley offered to take over the account, sympathetic to my personal issues. I never wanted my personal life to screw with my work life, and so I continue doing what I need to do and communicate with Scarlett rather than Morgan.

Scarlett’s great to talk to, and although she has an extremely hectic schedule, she finds time to chat without bringing up the subject of her sister. “You would totally love it out here,” she tells me over the phone one afternoon. “Desert heat and girls dancing in teeny tiny bikinis.”

“Another stripper movie?” I tease while typing an important email to a client.

“Of course, you’d say that.” She laughs. “This is a romantic comedy, something different for me. My main lead is new to Hollywood and they’re really trying to push the chemistry between us.”

“C’mon.” I smile through my words. “You’re telling me that’s forced? You can charm anyone.”

“He has a small dick,” she blurts out.

I stop typing my email. “And you know that because…”

“Because he’s wearing white trunks and it’s obvious. I keep telling his publicist that it’ll really hinder his career if nude pictures leak out.”

“Not to delve too much into the semantics, but perhaps it’s cold. Unless you have him pinned to a bed and stand in front of him naked, you’ll never really know.”

“I guess it’s best that we leave it a mystery then. I’m not really a pin-a-guy-to-a-bed type of girl.”

With my pen tapping against the glass desk, I fight the urge to continue this topic. I’m not in the mood anyway. Or at least that’s the lie I spin to myself. The both of us avoid talking about what happened that night and how we almost hooked up.

“So what are your plans this weekend aside from Haden and Presley overloading you with edits?” I ask, quickly swaying the topic.

There’s a moment of silence, followed by some voices in the background. She must be placing her hand on the receiver as I’m unable to translate the muffled sounds into words.

“I... uh... family stuff. A birthday,” she follows in a hushed tone.

“Oh... who?” Immediately, I regret asking the question, knowing all too well I won’t like the answer

“Michael.”

I struggle to fight off the jealousy. Gritting down and holding back my words because they aren’t aimed at Scarlett. It looks like everyone will be playing happy families this weekend while I get drunk and drown my sorrows in some random pussy.

With my mood rapidly declining, I tell Scarlett that I need to go and finish some work. As soon as I hang up the call, I rest my head on the back of my chair and stare at the ceiling—my favorite pastime of late.