Wesley Rich was on a mission.
My heels drag across the dirt; my balance compromised as he pulls my hand, stopping at a locked fence. There’s a large padlock hanging off the latch, and a sign saying No Trespassing.
Between balancing a smoke on the corner of his mouth and trying to break the latch—he was getting nowhere.
Inside my purse sat a pocketknife. An impromptu purchase during my first night here. Removing it from the secret compartment, I slide the knife out and jimmy the lock till the latch opens.
“How?” Wesley asks, scratching his head in confusion.
“Did I know how to break a lock? Let’s just say that back in high school, I had this constant need to hang out under the bleachers.”
He tilts his head with an impressed grin. “So much I have to learn about you. But for now, you wanted fun…I will give you fun.”
I follow his lead, keeping close, with my eye searching the surroundings. The sign outside said Funland Amusement Park. It was no Disneyland. Just a small booth at the front and some rides scattered around the field.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You said somewhere fun. This is called Funland so why the hell not?”
His hand disappears into the pocket of his jacket, moments later removing a flask. I didn’t want to know what was inside. After tonight’s phone call from Phoebe and Carson’s sleazy moves—which I decide to keep from Wesley, so not to anger him—I was more than happy to drink anything and make it all go away.
“Okay, shall we hit the games first?”
I can barely answer; the spirit burning my throat and making my head spin. God…this tasted awful. It almost makes me dry heave, yet I manage to stomach whatever sat inside that flask.
I don’t know why he bothers to ask me what I wanted to do since he does what he wants anyway, pulling the tarpaulin off the game and finding a switch nearby. The clown’s head turns on, eerily moving in the dead of the night while Wesley laughs and shoves balls in its mouth.
“Everyone’s a winner right?”
He climbs over the clown’s head; a large thump sounding when his feet hit the metal floor.
“Take a pick, my lady,” he says, bowing.
“We can’t steal that.”
Minutely shaking his head with an annoyed expression, he yanks some bills out of his front pocket, shoving it in the clown’s mouth. “Better? I’ll fucking pay for one. Now pick.”
“Wesley, you don’t have to.”
“So what if I didn’t win it?” Another cigarette makes its way into his mouth; the smoke lingering in the air. “I want to buy it for you.”
“Fine, the purple monkey.”
With a pleased smile, he pulls it off the wall, passing it to me. “Sweet, aren’t I?”
He jumps off the side, spinning around like a crazed lunatic. “If only life was like this—an amusement park. Laughing all day long. Cotton candy on tap.”
“I’m sure there’s a downside to it,” I say out loud, without thinking.
“Why do you have to be so cynical?”
“Uh hello? Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vigorously shaking his head, he finishes the remains of the flask, following with a satisfied moan. “Now, you wanted to have fun. Have fun with me.”
He grabs my hand, taking the monkey and leaving it on the ground, bringing me close to his body and leading me into a waltz, right in the middle of the amusement park while he sings Barry Manilow’s Can’t Smile Without You. It’s corny, cheesy—yet perfect at this moment.
“You’re crazy.” I laugh as he dips me. “Who would have thought you were a closet Barry lover?”
“And you’re beautiful. Just for tonight, be crazy with me.”
I laugh again, spinning around. “There, crazy enough?”
He shakes his head, determined to get me to let loose and be wild. “You can do better than that.”
I look around us. There’s a bumper car lot on the right but bumper cars weren’t exactly living on the edge. In front were a few kiddie rides, and beside them—this spinning Octopus. It wasn’t that ride which caught my attention, it was the adventure crazy house beside it. Standing tall, oddly shaped mirrors in front with stairs and a spinning circle on top. It reminded me of the movie Grease when Sandy gets her groove on at the end.
“Okay, you want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.”
I pull his hand, leading him to the adventure house. The mirrors show our reflection as we walk past; our bodies morphing from abnormally short and fat, to tall and skinny. We both laugh at ourselves, moving inside where the ground becomes uneven and it’s incredibly dark. The moonlight provides limited light, but I didn’t care. I was terrified and excited at the same time.
My hands clutch onto his shirt, pulling his body into mine, allowing me to bring his lips closer. The beat of my heart thickens; his lips warming mine and tasting so goddamn good.
“I don’t know what it is when I’m with you,” I breathe between kisses, lost in this man that consumed me in a way I had never experienced. “You’re so…”
“Bad?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“And I’m nothing like you’ve ever had.”
“Yes,” I repeat, running my hands through his hair.
The warmth of his lips leaves mine; his body distant with a bitter smile. “I thought you were different.”
The loss of contact leaves me uneasy. It takes me a moment to respond. “What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s not a question,” he responds, flatly.
Adjusting my dress that moved during our heated kiss, I straighten my posture trying to get a hold of myself. “Maybe I should go.”
“I thought you were different.”
“What does that mean? Different to who? Okay, so I love to read and would rather spend my night playing Monopoly. This wasn’t my scene tonight. So I’m different, who cares? The world needs different. Not everyone can be like you and Emerson.”
The words came out harsh, not at all like I had intended. I was frustrated we were even having this conversation when a minute earlier I was caught up in the best make-out session I had ever had.
“Do you think you’re the first girl that has called me bad and told me I’m like no other man you’ve been with?”
“No…” I trail off, pausing. “But it’s the truth. You are bad—for me. Every part of me says not to be with you. You will hurt me and I’ll end up with a broken heart and have to move back home because I can’t deal with the shame. You’re not like any man I’ve been with. The last four years were spent with Liam. Liam is caring. He’s kind. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”
“And I’m none of those things,” he answers, smugly. “I don’t fucking care about anyone, right?”
“What do you want me to say?” I throw my hands up with frustration. “I can’t seem to win. If you want the truth, this is it. You’re not Liam. You are Wesley. The guy that has gotten on my nerves and crawled under my skin. The same guy I haven’t stopped thinking about every day since that day in the café. The same guy I’ve fantasized being with not because he’s bad but because he does something to me…this butterfly-sick-to-the-stomach feeling. The thought of his hands all over me makes me want to throw all caution to the wind and live for this moment.”
“I’m right here,” he whispers, closing the gap between us.
“I know you are.”
The tip of his finger runs down my cheekbone and across my bottom lip. My eyes close—focusing on my internal sensations—controlling my breathing while his gentle touch consumes me. With a slight tilt, his mouth has found mine, the warm sensation and taste of desire finds me again.
This slow, sensual pace heightens all my senses until he pushes me against the wall, slamming our bodies together, his tongue feverishly battling with mine.
I pull away to catch a quick breath, gulping for air as if my life depended on it.
“You’re bad for me.” His face is buried in my chest, kissing my skin eagerly. “Too innocent.”
“A little innocence never hurt anyone.” I latch onto his shirt, pulling him up so I could taste his lips again. “Good girls can turn bad too.”
“No,” he breathes; a silent plea in his tone. “Your innocence is sexy. In fact, a fucking turn-on.”
I grin, touching his cheek softly. “Oh really?”
“Shhh, stop talking. I need to fuck you now.”
I’m falling for him; into this blissful moment as his hands wander across my body, each part he hasn’t touched—begging to be noticed.
The wall is sticky, and my dress gets caught against the rough edge. I didn’t care. I wanted him—here and now. His palms slide under my dress, against my thighs with a slow, burning ache. My body reacts to him; grinding against his hardness and dry-humping him between our clothes which suddenly becomes a nuisance.
I fumble with his buttons, wanting to expose his chest and run my hands against his skin. Though the lighting is poor, the desire in his eyes burns through me as I spread apart his shirt and admire the view. He is just like I imagined; ripped, muscles in all the right places and so very manly.
There’s several tattoos on his chest, but I can barely make out the images.
My hands move on their own accord, against his chest, circling his nipple as he moans softly into the air. I had never experienced this type of lust; the need to have my way with him like a fantasy come alive.
The grip of his hands is tight against my ass; small, yet forceful squeezes until he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist for support.
“You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re begging for it.”
I grab his belt buckle that begins to dig into me, unbuckling it quickly and unzipping his pants. Balancing against the wall, fumbling for his pants and losing myself in his ravenous kisses—becomes exhausting.
“I’m not the one begging for it,” I pant, so out of breath, my throat dry. “You are.”
Wesley laughs into my mouth; a grin forming on my tired face from this game we play.
“Is that so?”
I pull his hair, detaching his mouth from mine in order to give him a nod. The more we played this game, the more turned on I got. I felt him everywhere. I wanted him everywhere on me.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing into my face as we both take a moment to catch ourselves.
“I don’t think you’ve ever had a taste of something as Rich. Don’t think for a second that bad boy means you’ll be left unsatisfied. Quite the contrary. I can guarantee you, that afterwards, baby—you’ll continue begging for more.”
My eyes lock into his, wild and desperate for him to enter me. As we take this moment to stare at each other, his reflection is exactly how I imagined he would be—wild, uncensored and uncaring of what else is happening outside the world of us.
Keeping his gaze fixed on mine, he runs his hand along my chest, sliding into my dress and cupping my breast. I’m holding in a breath; stopping myself from finishing, all because of his touch. When I think I have controlled myself, he narrows his grip into a pinch and squeezes on my nipple.
The agony, and yet pleasure, spreads through me—my back arching from this delightful pain.
“Are you ready?” he whispers into my ear as his tongue runs along my lobe.
“For you, yes. I’ve been waiting.”
His hands wander down, and I hear the zipper of his pants unzip. My eyes close—for how long, I am unsure—allowing myself to feel this moment. I can feel him move my panties, his fingers brushing against my clit as my breathing becomes erratic.
What is he doing to me? Liam never felt like this. Okay, shit. This is not the time to think about Liam. This is the moment to think about Wesley. Stop getting lost in a sea of thoughts.
My panties are shifted aside, soaked from my arousal which turns Wesley on. He murmurs something about how wet I am, but I’m lost, can barely climb out of this abyss I’m falling into.
The sound of foil tearing distracts me momentarily. I’m grateful that he is smart enough to think about protection since I was not. That’s right, your horny ass would have ridden him bareback. That would have been a stupid, stupid mistake.
Slowly, he enters me, my body tightening and unbeknown to me—I wince slightly in pain.
“Are you okay?” He kisses my mouth, not allowing me to answer the question.
He is bigger than usual, not in length—but girth. I take a moment to wiggle my hips, positioning him so our bodies sat in sync.
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”
Being ready didn’t just mean this moment—I was ready for all of him. I knew that his words were set in stone. After this moment, I would be begging for more.
I would become addicted to the pleasure.
Addicted to the pain.
Addicted to Bad Boy Rich.
I motion my hips, rocking back and forth, watching him struggle as the sweat beads form on his forehead, eyes shut tight and face clenching as he tries to control himself. I love watching him. Seeing what I’m doing to him. Watching the veins in his neck pop out while he drives into me, slow and steady, in and out, a pattern that starts a tide of tingles spread across my entire body until I beg him through moans to enter me harder.
He growls at my pleas, pounding me harder, the heat stifling between us until I begin to dissolve on the spot, riding the wave of pleasure that consumes me and makes my vision blurred.
I’m oblivious that he has gripped onto my ass tight, slamming hard one more time before he lets out a groan, pulsating and twitching while burying his head into my neck.
Our heavy breathing echoes in the still of the night. He withdraws from me; my legs shaking uncontrollably and relying on him for support. I hold onto his shoulder as he removes the rubber and looks around, unsure of how to discard it.
“Here, give it to me.”
He laughs. “Really? What exactly do you plan to do with it?”
“Uh, toss it into my purse so not to traumatize the kids that come through here tomorrow.” I take it off him, grabbing some tissues in my purse and wrapping them around it before placing it in. “Wait, what did you think I was going to do with it?”
“Hey, I don’t know. You could play the innocent card but be as kinky as fuck.”
“True, wait till you see what I can do with some ping pong balls and a banana,” I joke. “Round two…your place?”
He leans into kiss me, unable to hide his grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”