Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

  By the time the match was done, and Tyrell declared the winner, I was a wreck. I wanted nothing more than to go and make sure he was okay, but I knew I had to wait. I had to wrap things up with Anita, and a part of me was grateful for it because I knew it wouldn't be a good idea for him to see how upset I was.

  I referred to myself as his girlfriend, and I knew the two of us were in a relationship, but we hadn't had a conversation where we discussed exactly what we were to each other, and this wasn't the time or the place for it. I needed to get myself under control before I saw him, and finishing things with Anita was the best way to do it.

  I'd just finished giving her the camera and letting her know that I'd be back to the room later when Paul approached.

  “Miss Harkness?” He gave a nod to Anita but kept his attention on me. “Doc wants Tyrell to get checked out at a hospital.”

  My knees went weak.

  “He's okay,” Paul added quickly. “Doc thinks he might have a concussion and wants to be safe. He sent me to get you.”

  I glanced at Anita, and she nodded. “Go.”

  “Thank you.”

  Paul didn't say much as we took a cab to the hospital, but I was grateful for his presence. He must've known about Tyrell and me because he didn't seem confused about why he'd been sent to get me, but he didn't talk about it either. He was content to let me get my head together so I'd be composed enough to see Tyrell when he'd gotten the all clear. Or, at least, as composed as I could be. I knew I wouldn't be able to breathe properly again until I knew he was okay.

  * * *

  “You want me to do what?” I asked. He had to be kidding.

  “If I say pretty please, will it help?” He gave me that insanely charming smile of his.

  I folded my arms and tried to give him a stern look. “You're supposed to be resting.”

  “But I don't want to rest,” he argued. “Not yet anyway.”

  I tried another tact. “You're hurt.”

  He waved a hand. “Cracked rib, couple bruises. Nothing that can keep me from you.”

  “Later,” I said. “When you're feeling better.”

  He took a step toward me and was now close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. The look in them made my mouth go dry.

  “No,” he said, his voice low. “Not later. Now.”

  I couldn't lie and say that I didn't want it, want him. Every fiber of my being wanted him.

  He reached out and brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. “You're my...prize.”

  That brought me up short. “I'm your what?”

  The expression on his face was half-sheepish, half-lust. “My prize.” He curled his hand around the back of my neck. “I wanted you so badly last night, but I knew if I had you with me, I wouldn't get the rest I needed.”

  I blushed.

  “All week, I've felt like I've had to hold back, not have as much of you as I wanted.” He pulled me to him. “I promised myself that when this was over, I'd have you as my consolation...or my reward. Either way,” he smiled a slow, sultry smile, “I mean to have you.” He bent his head until his lips brushed against mine. “As many times as you'll allow me.”

  Damn him.

  He gave me a soft kiss and took a step back.

  “Clothes off. Now.”

  I didn't want to argue anymore. I just...wanted.

  He watched as I stripped, eyes lingering on every inch of bare skin I revealed. I'd never had anyone watch me the way he did. Like he wanted to hold me and protect me, as if I was made of glass, but at the same time, like he wanted to take me, hard, mark me with hands and mouth, make me never forget that I was his.

  It was disconcerting, to say the least.

  “On the bed.”

  I climbed onto the large bed and watched as he came over. He had something in his hands, and when he held it up, I gave him a confused look. A sock?

  “Do you trust me?”

  The question seemed odd when paired with a sock, but he was seriously asking it. After all we'd been through since we met, trust had been an issue, but the one thing we'd both agreed on earlier this week was that we were starting anew. Not forgetting the past, but learning from it and letting it go.

  “Yes,” I said. “I do.”

  “Hands.”

  Still confused, I held them up. It wasn't until he had the sock wrapped around my wrists that I realized what he was doing.

  “I didn't bring a tie.” He grinned.

  “And why, may I ask, do you feel the need to tie me up at all?” I didn't dislike it, but I didn't understand it either. He hadn't shown an inclination toward bondage before.

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my mouth. Brief, but full of everything he felt. “Because, my dear, you can get a bit...feisty. Wouldn't want you to accidentally hurt me when you get overly enthused.”

  My entire body flushed as he stepped away. It wasn't just embarrassment though. It was arousal.

  “Stretch out,” he said as he pulled his shirt over his head. He tried to hide the wince, but I saw it. I told him I trusted him, though, and I knew that didn't only mean trusting him with me. I had to trust him to know his own limitations.

  I did as he said, hearing him taking off the rest of his clothes. I felt the bed dip as he moved onto it, felt his hands slide up my bare legs, part them. I saw his face now, could see the desire darkening his eyes as he looked at me.

  “You're so beautiful,” he said, his voice soft.

  His fingers traced along the insides of my thighs, and he looked up, watching my face as he ran the tip of his index finger along my slit, not penetrating, just barely touching.

  “I'm going to taste you later,” he promised. “See how many times I can make you come with my mouth.”

  His finger slipped between my folds, moved up and around my clit, teasing it for a moment before dropping lower. I gasped as his finger slid inside, moved and twisted. I started to lower my hands, to do what, I didn't know, but I wanted to touch him.

  His finger was suddenly gone. “Keep your hands above your head,” he commanded.

  I tilted my head. “And if I don't?”

  He grinned, a devious glint coming into his eyes. He leaned down, and suddenly, I was on my stomach. His hand came down on my ass even as I realized what he was going to do. I yelped in surprise, and he did it again, on the other cheek this time. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it definitely stung.

  He rolled me over again and leaned down to give me a fierce kiss. “Are you going to behave now?”

  He was teasing, I knew. I could see it on his face, hear it in his voice, but I also knew that if I asked him to stop, he would. But I didn't want him to. I didn't like the idea of actual pain, but what he'd done...that, I hadn't minded.

  “Make me come and I might.” I gave him a saucy sort of smile. “Unless you're too tired now.”

  He chuckled, that low sound of joy and sex. He went back on his knees between my legs, picked up a condom from where he'd apparently tossed one and rolled it on. My pussy clenched in anticipation, and I spread my legs wider. I'd never thought of myself as overtly sexual, but Tyrell brought out something in me. I should've felt weird, I supposed, being so obvious about what I wanted, but I didn't. I wanted him, same as I had from the first moment I'd seen him.

  I moaned as he slid home, filling me completely in one smooth stroke. He stayed there, propped on his elbows, his face inches from mine. Not moving, just being, just existing with me. I raised my head to brush my lips against his.

  “I love you.”

  I hadn't meant to say the words, but now that they were out, I didn't regret them.

  His voice was hoarse. “My Cynthia Rose.”

  He claimed my mouth, tongue plundering, teeth nipping at my lips. He began to move inside me, each thrust harder than the last. With my hands bound, I was at his mercy, unable to do more than move up against him, kiss him back. I wanted more of him, every bit of him. I wanted to not know where I ended and he began
.

  “My Cyn.”

  He reared up on his knees, wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me up too. My bound arms went around his neck, but he was still doing all the work, moving me up and down that thick piece of flesh.

  “Mine.” His voice was rough.

  I cried out as I came, clinging to him as he drove up into me again and again, rolling one orgasm into another before he gave in to his own climax. His arms tightened around me, holding me tight as every muscle in my body trembled.

  He ran his fingers through my hair, and I raised my head to look at him.

  “My Cyn.” He lightly kissed my mouth. “I love you too.”

  He lowered us onto the bed, releasing me long enough to untie my hands. He rubbed my wrists as he pulled me back to him.

  “Was that okay?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. “Tying your hands? Spanking you?”

  I nodded. “I liked it.”

  “Really?”

  There was a hopeful note in his voice that made me look up at him. “Really,” I said. After a moment, I added, “Is it something you might want to...explore?”

  “Only with you, and only if you really want to.” He kissed my forehead. “But we don't have to talk about it now. We have all the time in the world.”

  All the time in the world. I liked the sound of that.

  Then he began to trail kisses across my shoulder.

  “Hey, what happened to all the time in the world?” I asked.

  He grinned up at me, his jade eyes shining. “Still doesn't change my plans for tonight.”

  I tried to give him a stern look, but his fingers were doing amazing things to my nipples. Beating the shit out of Hollin hadn't damaged Tyrell's dexterity. “You're supposed to be resting.”

  “Later,” he said. “Still claiming what's mine.”

  I pushed on his shoulder until he rolled onto his back. “Nope. Now it's my turn to claim my prize.”

  And I intended to take my time doing it.

  Ex-Con

  M. S. Parker & Shiloh Walker

  Ex-Con

  A Stand-Alone Bad Boy Romance

  By Shiloh Walker and M.S. Parker

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC & Shiloh Walker Inc

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.

  Chapter One

  There’re few things in my life that are certain.

  I need coffee to wake up my brain.

  At some point in the month, I'll pay at least one bill late. Most likely two.

  I’ll freeze my ass off through the winter, and roast all summer. The heater in my place isn't worth shit, and I can't afford to pay the bill for the A/C so I never turn it on.

  And at some point during the year, I’ll be let go from my job.

  You see…my luck just isn't that great.

  I’d held my current job going on two months, and that was a record, but I had a feeling that streak was about to come to an end.

  It wasn't that I couldn't do the job. I was a damn good mechanic, and a damn sight better than the slack-jawed moron standing across from me. But that slack-jawed moron had a wrench in his hand, and if he lifted it in my direction, I was going to shove it up his ass.

  In fact, I’d just pointed that promise out to him.

  He stared at the wrench for a moment before grinning at me. “Seems to me that a guy like you would probably enjoy it, Bobby. But maybe you should let me do the shoving.”

  The joke wasn’t a new one, and it hadn't been worth getting myself in trouble the first time I'd heard it.

  The girl cowering in the corner darted a look at me, and then at him. “Candy.” I waited until she looked at me again, although I didn’t take my eyes away from Frank Hodges. “Why don’t you call your brother to come pick you up?”

  Candy helped out up front from time to time, but today wasn’t an ideal day to have her name on the schedule.

  Frank pointed at me with the wrench and it took an extra burst of self-control not to make good on my threat right then. “Boy, you ain’t got no place telling the employees when they can leave and when they can’t. You just one yourself.”

  “You are.”

  His brows scrunched down low over his eyes and I could see him trying to figure it out.

  Helpfully, I said, “You’re saying it wrong, Frank.” I pointed at him. “Now see, I really am from the backwoods of Kentucky, but when you talk like that, you make us all look bad. The proper way to say it would be… you are just one yourself.”

  His face turned an even uglier shade of red, and he took a step toward me.

  I sighed. Shit. He really wasn't going to let it go.

  “You really want to do this?” I cracked my neck and gestured at him. “All you had to do was leave Candy alone. Stop breathing down her neck and staring at her chest. Treat her like a person, and this would all be done, but you had to go and act like an asshole. Now I’m asking you again...do you really want to do this?”

  “You’re the one who oughta be asking.” Frank hitched the wrench up and propped it on his shoulder. He grinned at me, baring teeth stained yellow and brown. “All you gotta do is get in trouble one time, Bobby boy, and you know what happens to you.”

  I shrugged. “True.” Then I smiled. “But I doubt that'll be much comfort to you when you’re picking metal shavings out of your ass for the next six months.”

  I took a step toward him.

  His eyelids flickered.

  The door in the back opened in that moment, and the garage owner stepped inside. Peter Brewster studied me, studied Frank and the wrench, and then crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did Candy’s brother just call me?”

  Frank’s face underwent a total transformation. “Beats the hell out of me, boss. This ex-con you hired...” He shrugged and jutted his chin in my direction. “He’s always bossing her around, telling her what to do.”

  I heard a faint sniff from the doorway, but I didn’t look back.

  “That the truth of it, Bobby?”

  Running my tongue across my teeth, I studied Peter. He’d been a pretty decent boss, hadn’t made a big issue out of my past, just told me to keep my nose clean. I appreciated the chance, but I wasn’t sure I could keep my nose clean if I had to keep working around Frank. He was going to hurt somebody – a girl like Candy probably. I may be an ex-con, but he was a perverted bastard.

  “It’s not true.”

  She was the first one to speak, and she peaked around the corner, glanced at me, then at Pete. Not once did she look at Frank. His face bled back to that ugly red, and I subtly shifted, staying between them in case I needed to move.

  There wasn’t any need, though, because Peter was doing the same. He’d had his eye on Candy for a while. More evidence that Frank was a dumbass.

  She swallowed and in a halting voice, started to talk.

  * * *

  Frank ended up getting his teeth knocked down his throat that night.

  But it wasn’t me who did it.

  Pete was a solid guy, built like a football player who’d let himself go just a little. A little. Not a lot. Under that first layer of semi-soft fat, there was a hell of a lot of hard muscle, and although Frank had come at him after Pete told him to clean out his locker, Pete hadn’t so much as budged.

  And then Pete had swung out with one big, rawboned fist, and the dumbass had gone down like a felled tree.

  I’d been happy to help haul his ass out.

  I was less happy now though.

  “I’m sorry.”

  An hour later, I was sitting in the office, staring blankly at the wall.

  Pete had just given me my final check, along with a bonus that added up to two weeks of pay as a nice
it’s been good knowing ya gift. Even though I hadn't done anything wrong, he was letting me go.

  I should've just shoved the wrench up Frank's ass. I still would've lost my job, but I might've felt better about it.

  Pete continued, “I don’t like it, Bobby. You’re a good worker and if I could ride it out, I would. But–”

  I shook my head and stood. “You’ve got your own to look after, Pete. I understand.”

  I did, too. Mostly. One of his regulars, a stuck-up, tight-ass named Jamie Rice, had thought I looked familiar. Once she’d figured it out, she'd started going around plastering my image on telephone poles and anything else she could find.

  GUILTY. WE DON’T NEED HIS KIND HERE.

  She claimed it was her Christian duty that had her speaking up.

  Candy had, surprisingly, been the one to get in Mrs. Rice's face about it. “I’m pretty sure Jesus had thieves and liars and adulterers among his followers. Besides, what was that saying about stones, Mrs. Rice?”

  I could have hugged her for it, but I hadn't wanted to freak her out. She was one of the jumpiest people I knew. After Mrs. Rice had stormed out, Candy had told me, in her shy, nervous voice it would all blow over.

  But it wouldn’t.

  No surprise there. Things didn't work like that for me.

  The past two weeks, business had been slow and today, one of Pete’s regular contracts had called to say he was taking his business elsewhere. He said he had...concerns.

  Concerns.

  Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that meant.

  I held up the bonus check. “Can you afford this?”

  “Sure.” He grinned widely. “Pete didn’t get any severance.”

  I laughed, and while there was some humor in it, it was tired too.

  Pete rose, and after a moment, he held out his hand. “Bobby, you’re a good kid. Something will change for you.”

  “Yeah.” I accepted his hand and tried not to think about how wrong he was.