Made: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boy Games) (12 page)

I take a giant stride.

“Baby steps, Nathan.”

“You’re forgetting I don’t play by the rules.”

I leap onto the bed, ready to cover her with my big body. That idea doesn’t last long. She puts her hands on my chest and pushes me back like she’s the one in charge, and slings her leg across my body, positioning her hips above me. Her hands slide up to my shoulders while her thighs grip my hips. With her hair hanging down and the sly smile on her lips, it’s all I can do not to come right now. I grit my teeth, using every ounce of control I possess, and satisfy myself with feasting on the curve at her waist, the perfect roundness of her tits, the unabashed lust in her eyes.

So what if she’s only in this game for noble reasons and doesn’t give a shit about me? I don’t fucking care. She’s mine. For now. If she had walked into Dominion wearing a pair of red shoes, she would have been untouchable. I would have been forced to escort her into the arms of some rich asshole who wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like Brooke. Now she’s positioned over my cock, ready to let me fuck her until she screams.

I bring my hands up and circle them over the globes of her ass, pressing gently but insistently to bring her closer to my aching cock.

She lifts one hand and shakes a finger at me like a naughty schoolmarm. “Unh, unh, unh! You’re a very bad boy if you think you can break the rules and not pay the price.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You broke the rules when you allowed me onto the bed before I answered all the questions correctly.”

“Oh no,” she pouts, following my lead like a champ. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Oh yeah, Daddy has to spank his bad girl.”

I roll upwards, taking her with me until she’s draped on my lap. My cock presses into her belly. I slap her ass a few times, not hard, but enough to make her skin turn pink.

“Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry I was a bad, bad girl. Please don’t hurt me.”

My hand cracks down again, harder this time. I’m not sure where the cameras are positioned in the bedroom, but I hope the sick fucks watching are getting their money’s worth.

Brooke gets into the act by squirming as if she’s in pain. My cock surges against her, and I can’t take it any longer. I lift her onto my lap and bury myself inside her.

She gasps. “Daddy, you’re so big!”

With my face masked by her hair, I push my lips against her ear. “Enough with the Daddy crap, all right?”

She giggles and crushes her lips against mine, lifting her hips at the same time only to go back down. “If you don’t fuck my brains out, I’m going to keep calling you Daddy, over and over and over.”

And then I don’t fucking care what she calls me, Nathan or Daddy or Santa Claus because she’s riding me hard. Her body rocks back and forth, and her tits are bouncing. She holds on to my shoulders and lets her head fall back, offering those succulent pink nipples to my mouth. I don’t take them, but pinch them instead and manage to produce a moan from her.

My cock throbs, ready to blow, and still she rocks up and down while her hair swings like she’s a wild thing and she can’t get enough. I sink my teeth into her tit, not hard enough to bite, but enough for a mouthful and suck until she screams.
Nathan!

Her ass lands in my palms and then I’m beating her again, mixing each spank with a massage. It’s getting rough; I can’t help it. I’ve never fucked a woman like this before; never been so close to the edge and about to lose control. Thank God she isn’t a small woman because the way I’m handling her would break a fragile thing.

With her eyes closed and her face a mask of pure pleasure, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I bury my face in her tits while her pussy grinds on my cock until I can’t take it anymore. In one smooth motion, I rise, turn, flip, only pulling my cock from her wet heat long enough to make the transition before I’m pounding into her again, harder, rougher while she begs for more.

Fuck me!

I ram my cock home one last time, and we come together, her walls pulsing around me with relentless strength. I couldn’t pull out if I wanted to. Her moan turns into a strangled sound. I cover her mouth with my lips and swallow the moan, swallow her orgasm, and take all she can give until she shudders one last time and collapses, limp and spent.

When her eyes open again, they’re bright with merriment. “Thank you for covering me.”

At first, I don’t know what she’s talking about and then I understand:
the surveillance cameras
. They’re probably placed at eye level or at least four or five feet off the floor. With my big body on top of hers, whoever’s watching got a better view of my pumping ass than lovely Brooke.

“Works for me,” I whisper into her hair.

When I roll away and pull a sheet up over my body, she lifts up on one elbow and traces a line in one of my tattoos. “One of these days you need to tell me what they all mean.”

She sounds like she thinks we have a future. I can’t bear to burst that bubble while my cock is still wet from her body and throbbing with remembered passion. I slide to the edge of the bed and sit with my back to her. “I’m going to take a shower. Get dressed. We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“What’s the rush?” She asks this while tracing yet another tattoo with her finger.

“We’re still in the game, remember?”

“Yeah, and thanks for reminding me I’m still a pawn.”

I have an idea—that only works at Brooke’s expense—to push the other side into making a mistake. She said she wanted to win, no matter what. It’s time to screw scruples; time for shit to get real.

“That was a good fuck. You deserve a reward. Use the number I gave you. Call the other pawn and see how the bitch is doing.”

Her eyes sink into a well of pain.

My reward comes from knowing I’m the asshole who hurt her.

BROOKE

The phone weighs down my hand like it’s a boat anchor instead of six ounces of glass, metal, and plastic. Tears threaten to slide down my face, but I refuse to cry. I’m nobody’s victim.

I’m sick of being told what to do and where to go and how I’m supposed to act. I despise not knowing what’s going to happen to me. I hate worrying about Samantha because I have zero trust that Alexander Ferrara will keep his word. I hate being afraid Nathan and I will lose the game when I have no real idea what that will mean for Samantha or us.

Things might have been rough after our parents died, but Samantha and I fought back. We worked hard. If heaven is real, I hope our parents are looking down and feeling proud of how we’ve managed.

Now a bunch of men with more money than God think they can turn me into a pawn in their twisted game?

Fuck that.

I might be stuck, but I’m going to win. One way or another, I’m going to walk out of here with all the money they promised, my pride intact, and Samantha at my side.

I should be embarrassed and filled with remorse about letting myself go and getting into the game even when I knew we had an invisible audience. But I’m not. What’s worse: I loved it. I loved the way Nathan’s powerful body felt when he was on top of me. I loved it when he trembled on the edge of losing control and knowing it was me—plain old Brooke Lopez—who was making him crazy.

I’d do it all over again and not care if the whole world watched. If that makes me some kind of a slut, so be it. Men use their bodies all the time, in all sorts of ways, and rarely suffer because of it. Instead, they’re praised.

While Nathan cleans up and dresses the bathroom, I punch the numbers from the note he gave me. After a couple of rings, a gruff, male voice answers. “Daniels.”

“Is Caylee there?”

“Who is this? How’d you get this number?”

“Nathan gave it to me. I just want to talk to—”

“Hold on.”

I hear muffled voices and then it’s Caylee on the line. “Hello?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you! Are you all right?”

“Brooke?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Hunter said he thought it was you, but I didn’t believe him.”

“Hunter? Is he the guy from Dominion last night?”

“Yeah.” Her answer is subdued, and she doesn’t sound like herself.

“Did you have your date? How did it go?”

There’s a long pause where I hear a male voice in the distance. Then it sounds like Caylee puts her hand over the phone and the sound goes dead. In a minute or so, she’s back. “Sorry about that. Hunter asked me a question, and I had to answer.”

“So he’s the blond guy who looks like he fell out of an MMA ring?”

“That’s him.”

“What’s he doing there and what happened to your date?”

“Look, I’ll tell you everything when I get home—”

“When will that be?”

“I don’t actually know. Well, that’s wrong. I know some things, but not nearly enough.”

Alarm bells are going off in my head. “Caylee, what’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you much more than that, except that my date turned out to be a little more complicated than I imagined.”

There’s a lot of that going around.

“Caylee, I’m going to ask you some questions. When you answer, just say yes or no, got it?”

“Sure.”

“Did anyone mention anything about a game?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in a game right now?”

“Yes.”

“When you think about how you ended up in the game, did things just seem to happen without any rhyme or reason? Or did they tell you about it and give you a choice? Oh wait, that’s not yes or no.” I take a breath, thinking how to re-phrase. “Try this: did you think you were going on a conventional date at first?”

“Yes.”

“And then without explanation, everything changed, and they offered you more money if you would play in one of their games?”

“Oh my God, that’s exactly what happened! How did you know?” I hear the deep, male voice in the background again. When she comes back, she sounds rushed and nervous. “I’m glad you called, but I’ve got to go.”

“Do you trust this Hunter guy?”

“Maybe.”

The silence between us lasts about four heart beats and then I hear a click. A door shutting? I can’t tell.

“Hang in there, Caylee.”

“You know me, I love to play, and I’m always game for a party!” She sounds like an airhead party girl without a care in the world and not the person I know, which tells me she’s putting on a show. Then she giggles and signs off.

The red shoes, the so-called contract, the promises made—none of it was real, and all of it was too good to be true. I thought I was too smart to be fooled. I thought I could face these men on their terms to save Caylee and Samantha.

Wrong.

I’m not sure I can save myself.

The bathroom door swings open, and Nathan appears. With his mile-wide shoulders, it seems like he takes up the whole space. His shirt is open at the collar, revealing a fine sprinkling of jet-black hair and the tip of the tattoo I traced last night with my tongue. His arms are folded over his chest. He’s doing nothing more than staring at me. I realize he doesn’t have to do a thing but stand there to pack a wallop of power. There’s nothing still about him. All of that simmering force rushes at me, leaving me feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.

“You all right?” he asks.

My skin tightens as the rich, low tones in his voice skate over my skin. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Your friend all right?”

“She’s in a game, too. Did you know that?”

He shrugs. “She put her feet in a pair of red shoes. Shit happens.”

His careless tone makes me want to scream. I shove it down. “Do you know a guy named Hunter?”

“Yeah, Hunter Daniels. What about him?”

“He’s with Caylee.”

His hands fall to his sides. “ Hunter’s in a game, and he’s with your friend?”

“That’s what I said. What does that mean?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I don’t know, and that’s the problem because
I’m supposed to know.
Hunter, too. We’re the guys in charge of security.”

“Sounds like someone wants you out of the way.”

He nods, still and silent. I watch his gaze take in everything in the bedroom, from my naked body to the jumbled mess of a bed that still smells of sex. There’s no emotion in his expression. “We need to get out of here.”

“Do you think they—whoever they are—monitored the phone call?”

“It’s what I would have done. If I’m right, we’ll have company real soon. Get dressed.”

“What about Caylee? Will she be all right?”

He grunts.

“I don’t speak grunt. Translate.”

“Hunter’s a made man.”

As if that’s an explanation. “What does—”

“Forget about it. Hunter will take care of her. Right now you need to worry about yourself. Get dressed. We’ve got to go.”

The urgency in his voice pushes me to my feet.

“Where are you going on your honeymoon?”

I stare at the sales clerk for several seconds, remembering too late that my mouth has dropped open, and I’m gaping at her. When I try to speak only a squeak comes out. After fleeing the luxury hotel floor high atop Dominion and the Harley & Sweet offices, Nathan marched through the double doors of the exclusive department store, telling me I had one hour to shop. I’ve already picked up enough items to cover me for the next week or so. Hopefully, the game won’t last that long. Even though I was finished shopping, I couldn’t resist the lingerie department, especially with a platinum credit card in my pocket.