Breaking Stone: Bad Boy Romance Novel Read online

  This would never go in a book. My readers liked it rough, with harsh demands and punishment for disobedience. They liked sassy heroines with dirty mouths engulfing thick cocks with little effort. They wanted to be the sex queen, and for Steele to rule their kingdom.

  “Stone?”

  I’d rolled her to her stomach and was working my way up the notches of her spine. “What is it, Poppins?”

  “Can I have a turn? I mean, do this to you?”

  “Sure you can.” I lay myself over her. My hard dick wedged against the cleft of her stunning ass. I pulled her hair to one side, feasting on the back of her neck. She’d have a mark there, tomorrow, and that pleased me. If she wore her hair up, others on the boat would notice and know that she was mine.

  Fuck. She wasn’t mine. I had to stop thinking like that.

  I rolled off her and lay on my back, splayed on the bed. Her eyes were wide, glistening with excitement as they swept over me. My cock jumped beneath her gaze, and I took some long breaths to calm everything down. She started on my mouth, her lips wandering over my cheeks and my ears. Fuck, I didn’t know how I overcame the need to grab her and pull her down onto my dick. By the time she bit one nipple, my shaft was soaked with pre-cum. I wanted to take her hand to it, to feel her stroke along its length.

  Down she went, cautious and testing. I flung my forearm across my eyes because watching became unbearable. She was dangerously close to my cock, licking a line down the V of muscle to its point, then back up the other side. Now I had hips that couldn’t stay on the bed. My eyes squeezed shut as she reversed the move, then...oh fuck...she swiped the head of my dick with her tongue. I couldn’t hold back the wolfish growl. She did it again, and I swung my hand down to grip a handful of hair.

  “You’re in dangerous territory there, Poppins,” I warned.

  She grinned at me and licked her lips. “I’m hungry,” she purred. “Can’t I have just a little taste?”

  “Much more of that, and the taste won’t be little.”

  “Like I said, ‘hungry’.”

  She shifted down, taking hold of my cock like a lollipop stick, and started licking and mouthing the head. Her lips were so soft, her tongue so curious. I moaned.

  Katrina stopped. “Is this okay? Because I’ve never done this before.”

  “It’s great,” I managed. “Here, let me sit up to make it easier for you.” Easier for me, too, because I needed to watch.

  She started from the base of my cock, long licks up and down, then at last, her lips slid over the crown. I shoved my hand in her hair, pushing it out of the way to give me full view of my cock in her wet mouth. She sucked and swallowed, and I was sure I just about drowned her with pre-cum. I’d never been this hard, considering we’d just fucked before dinner.

  I couldn’t help pushing a little deeper into her mouth, and she made this sound that vibrated the length of my dick and settled in my balls. They ached, I needed to come so badly. I pulled her head up.

  “Am I doing it right?”

  “Oh, fuck, yes, you are.”

  “Good. I like it.” She engulfed me again, and I closed my hand over hers at the base of my shaft, showing her the stroke I liked. She tried to take me deeper, choked a bit, then tried again. Her tongue never stopped exploring, teasing, making me sweat. I started to move inside her, fucking her mouth gently, but it was too much. I was ready to come. I pulled her head off quickly before I blew.

  A long strand of spit connected her mouth to my dick, and she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Sorry, a little messy there. I dribbled.”

  “All part of the act. Believe me, I did too, eating your pussy.” I flipped her onto her back, grabbing a condom from the stash beneath the pillow and rolling it on.

  I knelt between her legs, opening her lips and sliding a finger inside. “So wet, Poppins. You okay here?”

  She nodded.

  “Not sore?” She was so tight. I didn’t want to hurt her.

  “I’m good. Let’s go.”

  “Why the hurry?” I teased.

  “Fuck, Stone, just fuck me.”

  “Such profanity, Miss Poppins.”

  She hooked her legs around my butt and pulled me toward her. The head of my dick wedged against her hot entrance. I don’t know why it had never felt this good before, but it’s like her pussy’s fucking bewitched. I eased inside, then thrust. Katrina yelped, but I couldn’t slow down. In seconds, she was meeting my thrusts. After everything she’d done to me with her mouth, I knew I wasn’t going to last long. Neither, it seemed, was she. Her moans became louder, and our lips crashed together as we continued to grind our pleasure into each other.

  She threw her head back, disconnecting our mouths, crying out as her pussy seized my dick in an excruciating spasm. Over and over, it grabbed my cock, her body jerking beneath me. My balls tightened, and the rush of cum up my dick was unbelievable. Her name hung in the air.

  I collapsed on her, heaving for breath. Our sweat mixed, and when I looked at her, her face was flushed, eyes closed, her mouth curved in a sweet, satisfied smile.

  The pain I felt in my chest had nothing to do with the exertion of fucking. What was it this woman had done to me? I took the edge of the bedsheet and wiped the perspiration from her face.

  “I must look a mess,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

  “You look stunning, well-fucked. I think I like you looking this way.”

  “I think I like feeling this way,” she said. Her voice was still all dreamy.

  I headed to the bathroom, disposed of the condom, washed my face, and stared in the mirror. I looked the same as ever, but I felt different. This scared me. Katrina scared me.

  Back in the bedroom, I watched her for a bit, then slipped the piece of hair away from the corner of her mouth and covered her with the sheet.

  I was wide awake, edgy. Normally, I’d have dropped down to the bar and had a couple of drinks after putting the girl in a taxi. Unwound over a whiskey and chatted with strangers.

  I went out to the sitting room, closing the door behind me so as not to disturb Katrina. I opened my laptop, eager to write. I hadn’t felt this inspired since the early books when everything was fresh and new. Just after two, a couple of chapters later, I crawled into bed and pulled her into my arms, tucking her next to me.

  The morning called for an early start, and it was good to discover Katrina was bright and ready for action. She still didn’t know what I had planned for her, and the full extent of the experience would unfold with more finesse than simply facing her with the balloon ride. I hoped that each moment she thought was it, something new, better, bigger would happen to pull the wow from her.

  I made sure she packed a bikini and a warm jacket in the small daypack I’d brought.

  “I don’t need a jacket for the beach,” she said.

  “Who said anything about a beach?”

  “Well, the pool, then.”

  I shrugged. “Quick, downstairs so that we can have breakfast. We don’t have long. Breakfast tomorrow will be leisurely. Today, we grab toast and coffee and run.”

  We got to the dock with minutes to spare, not that the boat would have left without us. Rip was waiting. I hadn’t seen him for a year, and we bro-hugged with genuine feeling before I introduced him to Katrina. The prick saw in her exactly what I did, and I sent him a hands-off look.

  His eyebrows shot up, questioning.

  I nodded, and he smiled. We knew each other well.

  “Pleased to meet you, Katrina. How did this low-life find you?” he said, nudging me so hard I almost fell off the pier.

  “I’m his assistant,” Katrina said. “Responsible for keeping him out of trouble.”

  “I hope they’re paying you well. How’s it going for you?”

  “We seem to have come to an arrangement that works,” she teased. “So, ah, is this your boat?”

  Cetus II was a custom-built, forty-eight-foot sport fishing boat. The massive transom made it ideal for w
hat I hoped would happen today, and my main wish was that Katrina wouldn’t question the unusual equipment we had on board until we got so many miles offshore, she’d be committed to the event.

  I jumped on board and put my hand out to her. “On we get, Poppins, time and tide wait for no one, or something like that.”

  “You got it, Stone,” Rip said.

  Katrina took my hand and climbed aboard. “Do I get a life jacket?” she asked. “And one for you, too, Stone.”

  Rip threw a couple at us from the cockpit.

  “Are we going fishing?” A small crease appeared between her brows.

  “Yeah, sort of. Come up top with Rip. Captain gets the best view.”

  The deckhands threw off the ropes, and we were off. Once out of the controlled speed zone, Rip opened the throttle and we headed to the open sea for the big hunt.

  Katrina was non-stop with her questions, and once land disappeared, she started to look concerned.

  “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, Stone. I’m sorry for forcing you to work and taking control of your social media. I’m sorry for making your coffee with low-fat milk, but it was all they had at the store that day. I’m sorry for—”

  “What’s with the confession, Poppins?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll keep me alive. You’ve brought me out here to kill me and toss me overboard to the sharks, haven’t you?”

  I tried not to laugh. If she knew how close she was to the truth, she’d probably have a coronary.

  18

  Katrina

  The further out to sea we traveled, the larger the swells became. For a while, I felt queasy, but Stone took me up to the front of the boat, where the air was fresh, and fed me saltine crackers to settle my stomach. He told me to wait and returned with a couple of bands for my wrists that he said activated pressure points to combat seasickness.

  Stone stood behind me, his strong arms holding me steady at the rail.

  “Do you want to do a Kate Winslet, Titanic move for me?” Stone asked, nodding at the curved rail of the bowsprit.

  “God, no, I’d probably slip. Are you sure you’re not trying to finish me off? If I fell, I’d be sucked under the boat and shredded by the propeller.”

  Stone nuzzled my ear. “There’s only one way I want to finish you off, Poppins, and that’s either buried inside you or with my mouth between your legs. Why do you keep saying these sexy things? Are you trying to keep me hard?”

  Instant arousal the moment he mentioned sex, and when he nudged me with his hips, I discovered he wasn’t lying about his hardness. “Does that thing of yours ever sleep?”

  “When I’m around you, my thing, as you insist on calling it, is always ready for action. Just give me the nod, and I’ll find us a quiet spot on the boat.”

  Thankfully, Rip called out to us and we joined him on the bridge.

  “There’s a lot of activity here,” he said, pointing at the sonar screen, where you could make out the schools of fish beneath us. Rip eased right back on the throttle.

  “We’ll drift for a bit here, start chumming, and see what happens.”

  “What’s chumming?” I asked, wondering if it was some old English nautical term for making friends. I gripped a handrail. With the boat no longer in forward motion, it rocked violently in the swells before it turned and settled to a gentler roll.

  “Chumming is where we throw out bait—fish carcasses, bone, blood—and lure to the boat...ah, anything that’s out there.”

  “So, we are fishing.”

  Rip and Stone exchanged looks.

  “We’re observing, rather than catching anything.”

  “What are you hoping to see?”

  “Sharks,” Stone said, a massive grin spreading across his face.

  He had to be joking. “You’re going to deliberately attract sharks to the boat for fun? You are insane.” I’d seen Jaws, and I knew what sharks did when they came to boats.

  “You’re going to love it,” Rip said. He clearly had no idea of the things I loved. Being at home with a good book. A crackling fire on a stormy day. Teaching Buster new tricks. Walks on the beach. Romantic movies. These things, I loved. I didn’t even watch Shark Week without becoming nervous in the bath, because those creatures with their beady, evil eyes were monsters.

  “I think we should go,” I said, my head swiveling as I tried to work out in which direction was land. Just then, the gut-churning stench of fish hit me. The chum was going in the water. My anxiety shot up the scale. “Seriously, I’ve seen the movies. The shark’s going to come, and it’ll be all angry because we’re in its environment, and we shouldn’t really be out on the ocean, because we don’t have gills, and the shark will jump on the boat and bite through it, and we’ll sink, then it will eat us, and—”

  Stone clamped his hand over my mouth, pulling me against his hard body. I bit him, and he laughed.

  “Poppins, settle. Rip knows what he’s doing. I’ve been out with him a dozen times doing this.”

  I jerked free. “I don’t care what you and Rip get up to. Why did you bring me here?”

  “It’s on the list.”

  Stone was completely deluded.

  “That must be some other woman’s list, Stone, because it sure doesn’t appear on mine.”

  “You wanted an encounter with an apex predator. What could be better than a shark?”

  “Apex what?”

  “You know, the alpha predator, the guy at the top of the food chain.”

  “I meant going on an African Safari, where I could sit safely in a vehicle and take photos through a closed window, of a pride of lions, idiot. Somewhere warm. Safe. On land. Did I mention safe? And don’t try to look all hurt. Who would even think this was fun?”

  Rip nudged Stone aside. In another life, I could have enjoyed looking at him with his sun-bleached surfer hair, his piercing, azure eyes, and a broad grin that rivaled Stone’s. Working a club as a pair, they’d be lethal to the women of the world. Predators. Oh, God, there was that word again.

  “Katrina, I don’t do dangerous stuff,” he started.

  I snorted.

  “Sharks get a bad rap.”

  “Totally deserved,” I muttered.

  “Really, what you see is the media version. They want eyes on whatever it is they’re pushing, and what could be better than a gaping jaw with rows of sharp teeth?”

  “It’s a warning, Rip, to make sure we stay away. This…this fear I’m feeling right now? It’s real. It comes from somewhere in my primitive brain that never needed to evolve because it’s simply there to help me stay alive. Primitive brain says no to sharks.”

  The guys were laughing at me. Even the deckhand close by smirked.

  “These are gentle, curious—”

  My hand shot in the air. “Stop. Don’t even start trying to convince me how sweet they are.”

  I don’t know how Rip stayed so reasonable when I was doing my best to create a reaction that would have the boat engine started and our noses pointed for home.

  “I don’t expect you to get in the water with us,” Rip said.

  Us? I faced Stone. “You are not getting in the sea with sharks.”

  “Sure I am, and you’re coming with me. Face your fears, Poppins. You conquered the motorcycle and the hot air balloon. What’s a shark swim when compared to that?”

  “Dangerous, foolhardy...not to mention, insane.”

  Rip frowned at Stone, shaking his head. “I don’t force people into the water. But, I do my best with education. I can promise you, Katrina, that sharks don’t target human beings, and they certainly don’t hold grudges, although they probably should. They’re placid creatures, curious at times, but they don’t hang around plotting ways to terrorize humans.”

  “I feel so much better,” I lied. I had no intention of getting in the water, but I was prepared to have a look over the side if a shark came by. Hopefully, they were all on the other side of the world today, but right then, came a shout from the ster
n.

  “We’ve got some action,” called one of the deckhands with way too much joy in his voice for my liking. “Oh, yeah, baby, come close.”

  At the corner of my eye, I could see Stone hopping on one leg and tugging a wetsuit over his foot and up his other leg.

  “Oh, no, Stone, you’re not getting in the water. Sarah will kill me. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” This was beginning to feel like a floating asylum.

  Rip laughed. “This is probably the safest thing Stone’s done since the last time he was out with me. And that was a year ago.” Rip was stripping off, too. “You have a one-in-sixty-three chance of dying of influenza, and a one-in-eleven-million chance of dying from a shark attack.”

  “And I can take that chance down to absolutely zero by staying well away from sharks.”

  “People find swimming with sharks a life-changing experience.”

  “I’m not surprised. Dying is the ultimate life-changing experience.”

  Once Rip had freed himself from his t-shirt, I saw the massive scars on his torso.

  “What the hell happened to you?” I blurted out.

  Rip examined his scars as if he’d forgotten they were there. “Oh, that’s an old surfing injury,” he said.

  “From what?” It had to be a shark. The scar was jagged and mean, on both sides of his torso as if he’d been sandwiched between a massive set of jaws.

  “Surfing.”

  Apparently, that was a satisfactory explanation because he’d fought his way into his wetsuit with a little more finesse than Stone’s continuing struggle, tugged the zipper up the back, rolled his shoulders, and grinned. “All set for show time.”

  I could no longer tell if the churning in my stomach was from the smell of the chum, motion sickness or fear. I followed them to the back of the boat and peered at the ominously deep sapphire ocean. In moments, a dorsal fin cruised by. I thought that had to be the most fear-inducing sight on the sea until it was joined by two more. Great. A shark swarm. Next would come the feeding frenzy when they’d all launch themselves onto the back of the boat and lunch on us. Everything in my head screamed at me to get the hell out of there.