The Billionaire Bad Boys Club (3 page)

Trey writhed like a fricking eel. Zane’s pressure wasn’t gentle, but Trey enjoyed an edge of pain. The entire center of his body—from his diaphragm to his thighs—sizzled with fireworks. Zane sucked him slower and wetter, his magic mouth drawing easily up and down. Trey groaned, his head rolling back and forth on the peeling paint of the bleacher bench. His left hand dug hard into Zane’s hair, his right clawed around his own balls. Zane hummed around his dick like he loved every inch of it.

“Pull off,” Trey warned, though he didn’t truly want him to. “I haven’t jacked myself in a week. I never come a damn teaspoonful.”

Zane made a sound around his mouthful that sounded like
nuh-uh
. In case Trey had any doubts about his meaning, he shook his head from side to side.

The motion felt better than Trey was prepared for. It twisted Zane’s tongue and lips around him like the stripes on a barber’s pole.

“Fuck,” he cursed. His left hand tightened on Zane’s head, but Zane resisted that urging too. He stuck to his slow pace, letting his tongue caress Trey’s underside tenderly. The sweetness of it killed him. Zane was into this. Maybe Zane was actually into him.

“That’s good,” Trey forced his vocal chords to push out. “God, Zane, that’s really nice.”

Zane pulled up him until the head popped out. His seductive lips shone with saliva. “I want it,” he said, his pupils liquid black in the blazing blue of his eyes. “I want you to shoot down my throat.”

The expression on his face made Trey’s penis throb violently. Zane pushed down again before he could think what to say. His hand had slid behind Zane’s neck when the football star pulled up. Now he forced himself to stop fighting, telling his body to relax and roll with Zane’s motions. He caressed Zane the way Zane’s tongue caressed him. Everywhere he could, Trey rubbed gently against him: inner thighs brushing ribs, fingers massaging nape. Zane uttered a little noise, like he loved the kindness and like it hurt him at the same time. Maybe the jock would be embarrassed after, but Trey didn’t care. His eyes stung with feeling, his heart clenched enough to ache. The edge of the gargantuan orgasm he was riding wasn’t as big as his emotions.

If he missed out on this moment, he knew he’d kick himself.

“Do me,” he crooned, the words completely different ones in his head. “Do me, Zane. Make me come for you like you want.”

Zane groaned and took him deeper, his wetness and his suction increasing. Trey’s climax gathered, his cock twisting tight with its last warning. Zane must have felt the shaft contorting inside his mouth. His cheeks pulled close, soft, his hand releasing Trey’s trapped testicle. Heat rushed outward from the freed spot. Trey gasped as his ejaculation shot from him.

It felt like a flood to him, but Zane didn’t seem to mind. He sucked right through the contractions, his tongue doing things that kept Trey’s climax as sharp as it could get. When it ended, Trey didn’t recognize his own sigh. It was low and melodic, like he was singing his pleasure, like every muscle had released a tension he hadn’t known it held. His legs lost their grip on Zane, the soles of his running shoes slapping the compacted dirt beneath the bleacher bench.

The sound seemed to wake Zane from his sucking. He let Trey’s cock slip free, the thing so exhausted he couldn’t even mind. With a casualness Trey found reassuring, he wiped his mouth on his T-shirt’s sleeve. Then, clearly not disgusted, he turned his head to rest on Trey’s sweat-streaked stomach.

“Shit,” he murmured, lungs going up and down. “That was hot.”

He lifted a second later, one arm reaching between his own legs to tug himself comfortable. Trey’s eyebrows shot upward. “You didn’t come?”

Zane looked at him and grinned. “I did. The second your big hot dick slid into my mouth. I just got hard again.”

Trey was happier with this answer than he knew how to say. “You are a crazy mother. How’d you know to suck me so well?”

“It was good?”

“It was incredible. I can’t believe that was your first time.”

Zane hunched his shoulders, the gesture both mischievous and bashful. “I’m a big reader.”

“Come on.”

“Okay, maybe I watch a lot of porn. And sometimes I practice on a dildo when I jack off.” Zane hid his face against Trey’s stomach to laugh silently.

Trey couldn’t remember ever being so entertained. “Your practice paid off.” He gave in to the temptation to stroke his sandy locks. Zane used some sort of product to spike his hair, but it was still silky.

For half a minute, Zane lay still under his petting. Then he sighed and sat up. He looked down at Trey, flushed from sex but not speaking. His powerful thighs V’d around the bench, his hard-on sticking up nice and prominent in his sweatpants. Trey scratched his stomach, searching for the best approach to get a crack at it.

“I’m not as good at oral sex as you,” he tried, “but I surely do like it.”

Grinning, Zane slid his hands down his own torso, skirting his erection to cup and hike his balls. The lift pushed his junk forward. “I bet whatever you did would feel good to me.”

Mesmerized, Trey watched his erection wagging behind the cloth. “If I did suck you, I’d get hard again.”

“If you got hard again, you’d have to teach me some other way to play.”

Trey had never been accused of having a poker face. Easily reading his approval, Zane dug into his sweatpants. His championship hands emerged with both his cock and balls. Trey licked his lips at the tasty sight. Zane’s family jewels were as sizable as the rest of him. Even better, the big flushed head was sticky from having come. His own goodies began stirring between his legs.

“You’re getting hard right now,” Zane whispered.

Trey loved how awed he sounded but didn’t grab for him straight away. He had a couple issues he wanted to get clear first. He sat up too, hoping this would help him think. His cock bounced higher as their knees bumped. Ignoring it, he gripped the stretch of bench between them. Zane looked at him questioningly.

“I need to know,” Trey said. “Is tonight the only time we’ll do this? ’Cause if it is, I’m not letting you go till dawn.”

Zane dropped his hold on his cock, his fingers wrapping next to Trey’s. He hesitated. “I don’t want it to be. You just shouldn’t expect me to, you know, ask you to go to prom.”

“No,” Trey agreed, though the reckless freak in him would have liked if Zane wanted that. “What I’m asking is if you want to fool around again—in private.”

Zane’s hands covered Trey’s, squeezing them on the bench. “Yes, I really do want that.”

Trey had to smile at his seriousness. “Good. I really want it too.”

“So . . . it’ll be our secret?” Zane’s fingers stroked the dips between Trey’s knuckles—as if he thought Trey needed bribing to keep quiet. Trey couldn’t let this pass without teasing.

“Yup,” he said. “We’ll call it the bad boys club.”

Trey knew Zane would think this was stupid. “We’re
not
calling it that,” he huffed.

“I think we are,” Trey contradicted, prepared to do some bribery of his own. Amusingly, neither of their cocks was bored by the conversation. Both were sticking up and bouncing. He reached for Zane’s, wrapping it in his hand and pulling toward the head. As susceptible as a virgin, Zane shuddered and closed his eyes. When Trey squeezed his fingers tighter around the rim, Zane’s breath sighed out pleasurably. Deciding he had the jock where he wanted, he switched hands and pulled again. To his surprise, the pressure revealed that Zane was uncut. Trey was able to stretch his foreskin at least an inch higher. A shiver of titillation rolled down his vertebrae. He’d never had a guy with a hood before.

With some effort, he dragged his focus back on topic. “You know why we’re calling it the bad boys club?”

Eyes still closed, Zane shook his head tightly. His expression was enraptured, but even rapture could be improved. Trey licked his palm, slicking it good and wet for his next caress. This time Zane squeaked as it tugged up him. Given his reaction, Trey couldn’t doubt his was the first male hand to pleasure Zane’s equipment.

“Why?” Zane gasped, rolling his hips higher.

“We’re calling it the bad boys club so this can be our secret handshake.”

In spite of his distraction, this tickled Zane’s fancy. He laughed and his eyes flew open. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you.” Trey wagged his brows to make this a joke as well.

Since he hadn’t minded it before, Trey smacked a kiss on Zane’s mouth. Then he bent to the part of Zane they both wanted him swallowing. Zane’s cock was oven-hot, his skin as smooth as satin. Trey’s tongue did a happy dance over him.

“God,” Zane moaned, the volume of the cry exciting. His pelvis jerked, shoving half of him inward.

Trey took him eagerly. He discovered this was extra good when you had a thing for the other person, when you weren’t just sucking a cock but a cock you’d been dying for. Trey wanted to devour Zane, to pull on him with his mouth until he popped like a champagne cork. His tongue went crazy along his shaft, his hands searching out the sweetest places in the vicinity. His thumbs dug between Zane’s balls, pushing through to where his cock rooted. Trey loved having his perineum rubbed. Luckily, this wasn’t just a hot zone for him. Zane punched his groin upward.

He groaned Trey’s name, hands urging his head closer.

“Please,” he gasped, totally thrilling him. Trey sucked him harder, and Zane let out a wail.

He came like Trey had, in a burst so big it couldn’t be contained, tremor after tremor milked out by his suckling. His final sigh echoed Trey’s, his fingers combing Trey’s hair over him.

Trey pulled gently up him, leaving one last kiss on the warm wet crown. As if it had been waiting for the salute, his cock sagged downward immediately afterward.

“Wow.” Zane’s breathing was ragged. “You’re better at that than you gave yourself credit for.”

His hand was on Trey’s shoulder, gripping it like he was a teammate who’d scored a goal. Trey wanted to hug him but decided not to push. He didn’t know what Zane was feeling—apart from more relaxed.

“So,” he said carefully. “You want to try this again tomorrow?”

Zane flashed the devilish grin that made all sorts of heart flutter. “Screw tomorrow. Tonight isn’t over yet.”

CHAPTER TWO

Bad Girl

REBECCA
Eilert was dreaming. Same as thousands of other girls, she danced with a famous actor who’d invited her to prom.
You look so pretty
, he said.
There’s no other girl like you
. She didn’t believe him. She wasn’t that special, but she liked hearing it. When she laid her head on his shoulder, he rubbed her back.
Let’s ask your parents if we can run away
.

The fateful words yanked her from her slumber, the slap of reality causing her heart to pound. She had no parents, and she couldn’t run away.

Her mother was dead.

Her father was permanently “off on business.”

Her two seven-year-old brothers only had her to take care of them.

Though no one had celebrated, her sweet sixteen had come and gone yesterday.

Oblivious to her distress, Charlie and Pete were locked in their usual morning war. Who got to use the bathroom first was a favorite squabble, along with Pete’s habit of stealing his twin’s backpack. Charlie
knew
which one was his because it had no rip in it. When Pete yelled at Charlie for sticking his toe across the duct tape that split their room, Rebecca wanted to yell too.

Their house had three bedrooms. None of them had to share. The problem was, not sharing meant giving up on the pretense that their father would return.

Her final image of him came back to her. He’d been standing by the front door, his overnight bag zipped and bulging by his feet on the penny tile. He was handsome—maybe a little weak, a little less pulled together since his wife had gotten too sick to spoil him. Her funeral had been a week ago to the day.

I can’t handle it, Rebecca
, he’d said.
Your mom being gone. You. When you try to cling to me like this, all I want to do is run
.

He’d actually shuddered. He’d been too disgusted by her needing him to hide his repulsion. In that moment, if there’d been a knife in her hand, she’d have shoved it into his heart.

How dare he make her feel like she was the needy one? Like it was her fault he was abandoning them.

Call child services
, he’d said.
There’ll be someone who wants the boys
.

Clearly, he couldn’t conceive of anyone wanting her.

So it was on her now: taking care of the boys, of herself. As Pete and Charlie’s turf war hit a new crescendo, she yanked her flowered comforter over her head. She wished she could stay under here forever, pretending everything was all right. She knew they were lucky they had the old brick row home. She wouldn’t hold her breath about her dad sending money, but their mother’s insurance payout covered the mortgage. They could keep the house they were used to—even the same bedrooms. As long as no one got sick and the roof didn’t spring a leak, they were safe from starving.

Probably anyway.