Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (100 page)

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Authors: C. M. Stunich

BOOK: Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

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“I told him I was your old lady,” she gasps as my thumb grazes over the front of her lacy panties.
Well now.
That gives me pause and my mouth curves into a grin.

“Why? Because you want to be?” I ask, noticing that Lyric's put her panties on
over
her garter belt and thigh highs. Like she knew someone would want to be able to take them off and leave everything else on.
Fuck.

“I don't know,” she whispers as I slide my fingers out and grab her knickers, trailing them down her legs and over her feet before tossing them to the floor. “I really don't know.”

“Guess we'll figure that out, too,” I say as I unzip my pants and lower my body on top of hers. “Tomorrow. We'll figure all this crap out tomorrow.” When I thrust inside of her, she spreads her legs wide and welcomes my cock inside, fingers clutching at my hair, tongue teasing mine as I kiss her and take her hard against the mattress.

Her hot, wet body soothes my demons away and brings a moment of peace to the fucking roller coaster ride that makes up my life. Shagging beautiful girls has always been a pastime of mine, something to make me feel better, let go a little. But it's never been like this. Guess I can see why some of the boys are so into their old ladies, why they never even glance in the direction of the leather lovers. They don't even fucking see 'em. Don't fucking need them.

“Lyric,” I groan, grinding against her as she moans and writhes beneath me, her body milking mine so hard that I can barely move my cock in and out. I decide to roll us over and let her ride me, putting my hands on her waist and encouraging her hips to roll, her palms splayed out on my chest as I squeeze her soft flesh and let her grind her clit against me.

“Royal,” she groans as I bite my lip and suck in a harsh breath. “Royal.” A sharp little gasp. “Royal.”

“That's it, Pint-Size. Let it go. I want to watch you come.” Her hips move harder, dark hair hanging around her face, lips parted with pleasure. When she comes, hands still on my chest, back arching, she looks like a fucking queen.

My queen.

Royalty.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lyric

There's a pint of ice cream in front of my face when I open my eyes, lashes fluttering as I take in the container and the big tattooed hand that's holding it.

“Mornin' Pint-Size,” Royal says, tossing a spoon onto the pillow with his other hand. “Thought you might enjoy a little taste of your namesake.”

I groan and sit up, my body sore and my face throbbing like … well, I like I got elbowed in the nose. I reach up and touch it, hissing at the pain, but I don't think it's broken. It'd hurt a hell of a lot worse, wouldn't it? My chest feels tight though, the line where the seatbelt caught me an aching mess.

“What … what the hell happened last night?” I groan, even though I was a part of all of it.
Being followed, crashing the truck, Royal's hand wrenching the door open, arching above him as I rode his cock.

Oh God.

I groan again and rub at my face as I sit up, glancing at the two wolves lying patiently at the end of the bed, eyeing the ice cream container before looking back at my face with pathetically hopeful expressions.

“I have to head out of here in a minute, but I wanted to talk you before I left,” Royal says, tilting his head to the side and examining me carefully. There's so much between us, so much that needs to be said, talked about.

“Who were those guys last night?” I ask, reluctantly reaching out and dragging the ice cream into my lap. A surge of panic goes through me before I realize that it's Sunday. Sunday. No work. Nobody will know I'm missing. I breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Bunch of fucking tossers that have finally lost the plot.”

“Wow. You don't sound at all like you've ever lived in London,” I say with a small smile and Royal grins at me. The expression fades almost as quickly as it came and his mouth tightens, the muscles in his jaw ticking.

“I don't know how to say this,” he begins and my heart stutters frantically. The way he kissed me last night, the look on his face, how scared he sounded on the phone … he's not kicking me out, is he?

“You want me to go?” I ask and he blinks at me like
I'm
the one that's
lost the plot.
Royal reaches into his pocket and grabs a smoke, sliding it between his lips and talking around it, his dark hair thick and clean and perfect.
Must've showered already.
I stare into his dark brown eyes and wait for him to answer me.

“Now you really must be taking the piss with me. Lyric,” he begins as I set the ice cream aside and turn to face him, looking down at his tattooed hands instead of his face. The roses seem more red today, the vines more green, the pistols more … dangerous. “I don't know how to do this shit, and frankly, I don't really care. Look, here's the thing.” He takes a deep breath and glances over at the bedroom door like he's expecting someone to come in at any moment. That's when I hear the deep rumble of a man's voice. Someone responds to him, but I can't hear what they're saying.
So there really are people out there.

Royal turns back to face me.

“You've gotten wrapped up in this shit, even though you shouldn't be.” I open my mouth to protest, but he just keeps talking. “You calling in Brent … ” Royal grits his teeth. “Don't ever mention that to anyone ever again. You hear me?” I raise my eyebrows but he just stares me down.

“I hear you,” I say, knowing that if he's telling me this, it's probably for a good reason. Look what happened to Sully.

“But what happened with Landon, and all of this,” Royal sucks in a breath, “none of that is your fault. And I … ” He grits his teeth again and then throws his cigarette on the bedside table. “I'm a dumb shit, and I know that this thing between us, it's a fucking nightmare waiting to happen.” Royal leans in and cups the side of my face with his hand. “But it's too late now. I'm fucking invested.”

“Invested?” I whisper, my heart pounding hard against my chest. I should care more about what happened last night, demand answers about who and what and why. But I can't. And I don't. This, right here, I need to know about
this.
“What do you mean?”

“Pint-Size, you ever consider a different life? Something that's … it's not exactly a walk in the park. You figured that out last night.”

“A different life?” I ask and Royal rolls his eyes, leaning in and putting his forehead against mine.

“I'm asking you to be my woman, Lyric. Even if this all falls to pieces and goes to hell in a handbasket at some point, right now the only thing I want to hear from you is
yes.
The details, we can work out later.”

“My dad,” I begin, but then Royal puts his mouth against mine, kisses me the way he did last night against the side of his truck.
Mine.
I open up to him, put my arms around his neck.
Yours.

This isn't going to end well, is it?
I wonder in the back of my mind. But my heart doesn't care. Not one bit. Right now, this man … he feels wicked and brutal and tender and perfect and … his tongue is tracing my bottom lip and bringing goose bumps up on my arms. How can I say no to that?

“You know why they call me Royal, right?” he asks me as he pulls back and leaves me panting. That dirty grin of his splits his face as I close my eyes and take in the smell of leather and earth, Royal's smell.

“Why's that?” I ask, opening my eyes and meeting his hungry gaze with one of my own. “Is it because it's your name?”

“Cheeky twat,” he says, slapping me on the knee and standing up, a vision in leather and denim. “It's because I'm king, love. And I need a queen. Just tell me okay, so I can get the fuck out of here and come home to find you waiting in my bed for me.”

I should tell him that I have work in the morning, that I still want to be a senator, that we met a week ago, that … I'm stupid and young and in love. But I won't say it. Yet. I don't think he will either. Later, maybe, when we're both ready. Yes, definitely later.

“I'll be here, Royal,” I promise as he raises his brows at me. “I'll be here and I … like you, Royal. I really do.”

“I like you, too, Pint-Size, more than a whole hell of a lot.” Royal leans back over me, eyes focused on mine until I lean back into the pillows and let him brush his mouth across mine again. “Give me a definite, so I can hold my head up with these assholes out here.”

“It's a definite,” I say and his lips split into a grin again, one hand tracing up my side before he kisses me one more time and pulls away.

“You're mine?”

“For now,” I say with a sly smile. “As long as you're mine, too?” He winks at me and picks up his cigarette in two fingers, cutting a daring silhouette against the navy blue walls.

“Never thought I'd say this so bloody soon, but … you got it, love. I'm yours.” Royal gives me a little wave and turns around, reaching for the bedroom door. I watch the wolf on the back of his leather vest until the wood's almost obscured it from view.

“Wait,” I say, a random thought popping into my head. “What's the tattoo on your chest say?” I've seen it several times now, but we've always been too … busy for me to read it. Royal pauses and peeks back in the door with a grin.

“Raw and dirty,” he growls, giving me a look that could melt the panties off a nun. “Raw and dirty and … yours. I hope you're fucking ready for this shit.”

Then he closes the door behind him and leaves me in his bed with just a pair of wolves and a smile for company.

He's a bad boy ... and a nanny. Coming soon!