Bad Boy Hero: A Romantic Suspense Page 9

  He easily put my legs over his shoulders, they were little more than cooked spaghetti. His hands closed around my waist, roughly pulling me into him with every thrust. The angle got him so much deeper inside of me. I tried to call out, but I couldn't pull in enough air to make any noises that weren’t moans and squeaks. He felt amazing.

  I clamped a hand on the nook of his neck and shoulder for stability while my other arm flailed uselessly on the carpet. His heart was beating so fast now it rivaled mine. His breathing was rough and ragged and his cock pumped with soul-crushing consistency. Like me, he had given fully into passion and still hadn't killed me.

  Maybe I really didn't have anything to fear from him after all.

  My renewed sense of safety warmed and relaxed me further. I was able to be completely in the moment and feel every thrust and squeeze. Our sweaty energies collided against each other like competing earth quakes.

  My eyes snapped shut. I watched the lights exploding in my head as every pulse of his magnificent cock brought me closer to the edge.

  “I'm coming!” I screamed and came hard, but Logan didn't stop.

  The aftershocks hit just as hard as the orgasm. I rubbed my clit, letting the waves of pleasure crash over me. My body folded in half as another climax threatened to break me. If he kept this up I'd have to buy myself a wheelchair.

  He grunted, then sped up a little. He used his super speed to vibrate his cock! My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I felt like my limbs might rocket off in every direction. I moaned loudly, opening my eyes to see that his were shut.

  His stern face told me that he was just as lost in the throes of pleasure as I was. Logan reached out to steady himself and put his hand straight through the drywall like it wasn't even there. He even came with ferocity! The condom ballooned inside of me, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

  I took him into my arms and pulled him down on top of me. We were both panting and dripping with sweat. We stayed in our perfect moment for as long as we could. Eventually he pulled out. It was awful feeling so empty after being so filled up.

  “I'd ask if your hand was alright, but I think you'll pull through.”

  “Ah, shit.” Logan went to rub his face, but realized there were plaster bits matted to his hand and arm, and decided against it. He turned to me and smiled. “I'm just glad I only impaled you with my cock.”

  “Me too.” I placed a hand over my chest. My heart was still racing. “We should do that again real soon.”

  Logan wore his customary smile, but after a while it faded. The real world was starting to sink in, and I wasn't the only one who wore their emotions on their sleeves.

  “What is it?” I asked. There was definitely something on his mind, I was sure of it now.

  Logan frowned. “That doctor at the plant got me thinking about my code name—Instrument V. What if the V wasn't for Veidt. What if it was just the roman numeral for five?”

  “You said you torched the facility on the way out so you're probably the last one...” The last one ever made. A few seconds slipped by while I organized my thoughts from earlier, now that I actually had the time to think. Logan was led to believe he was the only one with these abilities.

  What if he was wrong?

  Logan was unique because he escaped before they could program him, or whatever those sick fucks did. The others couldn't have been so lucky. “What do you think happened to the four who came before you?”

  “No idea...” He slid an arm under my head so I could use his shoulder as a pillow.

  If those Instruments were anything like Logan, would they be superheroes too? My gut gave me the sneaking suspicion they probably wouldn't be. I could only imagine the destructive capability of someone using that kind of power for evil.

  The thought made me shiver.

  “What about you?” He asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Your police captain tried to have you killed. What the hell are we going to do about that?” There was a hardness in his narrowing eyes that told me exactly what he wanted to do about it.

  “I don't know yet.” Systemic corruption was such a big problem that I had a hard time wrapping my head around it. What could I do? “Whatever happens, it has to be by the book.” I pushed I finger into his hard pecs. “You hear me, tough guy?”

  “Yes, ma'am. Pinky swear.” Logan said, holding up his little finger. I pushed his hand away. Despite his joking tone, I knew he'd honor my wishes. He held me close and kissed me.

  “I do have one request though,” I said as nonchalant as possible. Logan gave me a look that told me to continue. “If we start bumpin' uglies on the regular, you're going to need to pick up at least a futon or something.”

  “I have this apartment paid for the rest of the year. Why don't you just move in here?” Logan asked.

  I raised my eyebrows at the suddenness of it. I guess it did make sense. I wasn't comfortable even being at mine anymore now that my captain tried to have me killed. Until I could figure out my next move, I'd rather no one knew where I slept.

  “Also,” Logan cleared his throat. “Will you be my girlfriend again?”

  “I don't know...” I smirked coyly. “How do I know you're serious?”

  “I came back to life for you!” He rolled over and started tickling me. Laughing, I writhed and hopelessly tried to push him away. He only cheated a little with his super speed.

  “That all you got?” I taunted him, which prompted another round of me squealing from getting tickled, and yelling for him to stop. Eventually he did, after a dozen declarations of truce that neither of us believed.

  “How about some black raspberry and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream?” Logan extended his hand.

  I shook it, then kissed him. “Deal!”

  I couldn't ever remember being happier in my life than that moment. I never wanted it to end.

  I had no idea how we were going to face the challenges ahead. I didn't even know what they were. It was a scary, uncertain time, but the love of my life came back from the dead to protect me.

  So I was feeling pretty good about our chances.

  END

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  Post credits scene:

  Now the Shadow needs your help!

  This was a bit of a passion project for me. Frankly I'm a little nervous about it, I have no idea how well this book will do... With all the superhero movies coming out now, I figured, what the hell? It's worth a shot, right? There must be people as nerdy as me out there!

  As Logan would say, “Some things in life are worth the risk.”

  I've always loved superheroes and the interesting dynamics between them, the people they love, and their secret identities. I'd love to write more about Logan and Natasha, but I need your help to do so. If you liked Bad Boy Hero, please leave a review and tell your friends to pick up a copy!

  Thank you so much for indulging my nerdy guilty pleasure!

  In case you missed it! This book also contains parts 1 and 2 of the Billionaire bad boy series SHRED for free! Most of you have read the original, so SHRED 2 is included first.

  Scroll further down for SHRED 1.

  SHRED TWO

  A Billionaire's Secret Baby Romance Novel

  by

  Adair Rymer

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  Copyright © 2016 Adair Rymer

  All rights reserved.

  SHRED is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not to be construed in any way. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design

  Cormar Covers

  Editors

  Julie Ahern (resident smart-ass)julieahern.com

  Courtney Griffith ofPartners-In-Prose.com

  Chapter 1

  Maynard

  “A
re you ready for this?” Claire took a breath and hovered her hand over the doorknob to her parents house.

  The Tremont's house could only be described as genuinely charming. They lived in a secluded rural area off several side streets about an hour away from Chicago. Their property, like everything else around, was covered under a thin white blanket of snow. Bushes and outlines of flower beds broke through pristine calm and hinted at the lush colorful paradise this place must be in the spring.

  I shifted the seventy-year old bottle of whisky to my other hand and readied the bouquet of Japanese flowers that I had flown in this morning. I had never done this sort of thing before, but I came prepared.

  Claire and I had only been dating for a few weeks, which was longer than I'd ever been with anyone before. It was an amazing experience to be able to open up to Claire without judgment. The sex had also only gotten better as we built trust and learned more about each other. I was too much of a novice to know if all relationships were like this, but I couldn't imagine they were.

  Claire and I had something truly special.

  This meeting-the-family thing was a foreign concept to me, something I'd only ever heard about, but it couldn't be that hard. Impressing people was second nature to me and it was even easier now that my Christmas-party-turned-charity-fundraiser, was all over the news for breaking year end donation records. The public saw me as a billionaire philanthropist and next month I'd be featured on the cover of Time magazine.

  I was on top of the fucking world!

  “Of course.” I shot Claire a sly, half smile and nodded. If I could convince a full event hall to donate millions of dollars, surely I could talk to just two people.

  I had this.

  Claire didn't seem so sure. She flashed me a worried look just before opening the door and calling out to her parents. My suit was crisp and my shoes were polished to a mirror shine. I looked damn good and was ready to wow her parents' socks off.

  Why was she so nervous?

  When we stepped inside I noticed that there were countless additional touches on the brown bungalow style house that weren't completely finished. If she hadn't told me her father had built the house I'd probably have guessed as much from seeing it in person. This was a master craftsman’s project home.

  “Hi, Honey. You're early,” came a voice behind a corner that looked to lead into the kitchen. Claire's mother stepped into the modest living room, drying her hands on her apron. She wore a modest blue blouse with jeans and her hair, which was pulled back into a tight ponytail, was a darker shade of blond than her daughter's.

  Lynn wore very little if any makeup. She had a mature, natural beauty and had all the same curves that Claire had but the spaces in between were filled in more. She wasn't fat, just hearty. Claire told me her mother ran a flower shop and a local farmers market on the weekends and had ten green thumbs instead of fingers.

  Claire hugged her mother, then introduced me.

  “Hello, Mrs. Tremont.” I bowed slightly, taking and kissing her hand. It was still moist and pungent from the preparation of dinner.

  “Oh,” Lynn exclaimed, slipping her hand from my pursed lips. “That's not a good idea— The garbage disposal was clogged, I was just cleaning it...” Her voice quieted, awkwardly.

  “These are for you,” I said, straightening back up and fighting the urge to wipe my mouth. I was off to a rocky start but there were few things in life that flowers couldn't fix. “Claire told me about your flower shop so I figured you might like these.”

  “Thanks.” Lynn took the exquisitely wrapped bouquet tentatively. She studied them, separating a few of the white and yellow bulbs in her fingers, then asked, “Is this Japanese Barberry?”

  “Berberis thunbergii, yes.” I smiled, having committed the full names of the various types of flowers to memory on the flight over. I specifically asked my vendor for flowers that were uncommon in the US. I didn't want to buy Lynn something that she was already growing in her shop.

  “Ah,” Lynn smiled uncomfortably. “Thank you for the thought, they're very pretty, but I can't take them. Some of these are very invasive species and are technically illegal.”

  I could hardly conceal the look of disappointment on my face. When I got home, I was going to have a short, harsh conversation with my vendor. My frown deepened when I saw Claire sharply raise her eyebrows and smirk in an I told you so expression.

  She was enjoying this.

  Claire told me that her parents were hard to please and didn't like expensive or elaborate gestures. I rarely considered the actual cost of things so I hadn't given her warning much thought. The money was always just there—so, to me—the flowers and the whisky had only cost me the time it took to pick them out.

  “Where's Dad?” Claire asked, deciding to put an end to the uneasy silence of my misstep. She took her jacket off and placed it on the coat rack, then hung mine as well.

  “He's outside getting wood for the fireplace,” Lynn went back into the kitchen and took a temperature reading of the bird in the oven. “Dinner should be ready soon. Help yourself to a drink, if you'd like. Claire, you know where everything is.”

  “I'll go give Hal a hand with the wood.” I placed the bottle of eighty thousand dollar Glenfiddich single malt Scotch whisky on the table next to the envelope Claire had brought in. The envelope was addressed to her father. I scanned it as I put my black overcoat back on. It was from the Harper Group, they handled acquisitions for their parent company.

  Were they trying to buy out her Dad's business?

  “Do you want me to come introduce you?” Claire asked, breaking my concentration.

  “I'll be fine.” I kissed her on the cheek. “I need another crack at this impressing the parents' thing.”

  “It's an acquired skill, you'll get it... Hopefully.” Claire said, with a wink and a smile. “Good luck. My mom was the easy one by the way.”

  When I walked out into the backyard I was greeted by the cutting wind as it whipped up little powder spirals off the mostly unbroken white sheet of snow that connected the main house and garage to the distant greenhouse. A grunt followed by an abrupt snap cracked the air.

  “You Maynard?” The gruff voice echoed throughout the backyard, then was punctuated by an ax head splitting a log. Hal wore only a sleeveless shirt, thick pants and heavy boots. Steam wafted off his thick arms, chest and gut.

  Hal wasn't particularly tall, but he was a large man with the kind of build that came from a lifetime of heavy manual labor. He covered his baldness by shaving his head and wearing a faded green Breton cap. His bushy brown beard completed a look that would've allowed him to pass as a lumberjack or fisherman.

  “Yes, sir.” I made my way over to him and a pile of wood, my nice shoes crunching softly against the frozen snow. I extended a hand, but quickly pulled it back as he brought the ax down again, easily splitting another log.

  Hal left the ax embedded in the stump and crushed my hand in a stony grip. I was no stranger to handshakes and was able to match his firmness, but the man's hand was rougher than chipped granite. It spoke volumes about his trade.

  “Read about you in the news,” Hal said, his green eyes were the same color as Claire's but a little lighter and much, much harder. It was difficult to get a read on the guy, his beard consumed the lower half of his face and most of his neck.

  “The fundraiser?” I asked, letting my lips start to curl in a proud smile. That was more like it, let us start on a high note and go from there. The first step in any new relationship was to build relatability and commonality. Claire told me Hal was into the whole community thing. “Yeah, that went really well. We raised a lot of money for—”

  “No,” he said, driving the ax into the stump to keep it out of the snow. “The sex tape with that princess.”

  “Oh,” I chuckled, nervously. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Six months a long time for you?” Hal asked, bending down to pick up the wood pieces.

  “Feels like it. A l
ot has changed for me since I met Claire.” I didn't get the feeling that he'd believe me even if I explained. Was this why Claire wished me luck before I came out here? I decided to change tactics. “Can I give you a hand?”

  “Dunno.” Hal palmed a large piece of wood and stacked it in his basket. “Doesn't look like you're dressed for hauling wood.”

  “Claire tells me you have a woodworking shop downtown.” I changed the subject. I took off my fine leather gloves and loaded a few pieces into the basket. “You make and restore furniture, right?”

  “That's right.” Hal grumbled, his tone was that of mild exasperation.

  The silence between us quickly became oppressive.

  “I noticed that letter on your table. Is everything going alright?” I groped at some way to continue the conversation. I didn't mind silence when it was on my terms. I was the one trying to impress him. This was one of the very few times that someone else was holding all the cards.

  All I wanted was for her parents to like me, why was this so damn tough?

  “Fine.” Hal left it at that, then realized I was still looking at him and offered me a little more. “Just another soulless corporation. It's not the first time someone's tried to buy me out.”

  “The Harper Group is a subsidiary of Milspoor International. I know the guy that owns that company, I could talk to him if you want. If it's a money thing I don't mind helping.”

  “I don't need your help and I sure as hell don't want your money.” With the basket full, Hal stood up and looked directly at me. “That shop has been in my family for two generations. I'll be damned if I let some rich prick decide what happens to it. We Tremonts don't get pushed around and we don't take handouts.”

  Well that explains Claire's resistance to me paying off all her debt. Claire may be shy at times and often used humor to dissolve tension but she wasn't weak. She could be incredibly stubborn and needed to feel like she earned everything.