Bad Boys Under the Mistletoe: A Begging for Bad Boys Collection Read online

I don't have a reply and Jaxon rolls to his feet smoothly, going over to the fridge that I saw yesterday and opening it before he sighs, shaking his head. “Shit. You vary from your plan, and you get consequences. Like this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My plan was to leave town, so that Cheerwine I gave you was one of the only things left in here,” Jaxon says as he closes the door. “And I can't go out in this 'hood without your father's people possibly seeing me.”

  “Then send me,” I volunteer. When Jaxon gives me an incredulous look, I stand up, walking up to him and looking him in the eyes. “Does he know that I'm with you, not just tied up somewhere?”

  “No, but after my call, I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t sent someone to Whitechapel just to double check. Besides, what if I don't trust you?” Jaxon asks, and I blink, stepping back. “It runs in your family, Mandy.”

  “It does,” I admit after a painful moment. And I've betrayed him before. “Just give me a chance? Trust me enough to go down to the corner store?”

  Jaxon thinks, then nods. “We don't have enough to get through the next two days unless you think you can survive on half a bottle of mustard with a quarter carton of milk, and I can't take my bike out during daylight. I'm known well enough in the neighborhood. Listen, I don't have a lot of shit though... here.”

  Jaxon pulls his sweatshirt off, handing it to me as he goes to the battered plastic cargo box on the other side of the room and pulls the lid off, taking out a plain white tank top. “I'll wash up while you're gone.”

  I pull his sweatshirt on and it's baggy, but not so much that I look too far out of place. I understand why he gave it to me to use, it's your standard gray hoodie, there's got to be a hundred thousand just like this in the city. I reach into my pocket and find a rubber band, pulling my hair back into a hasty ponytail and reminding myself to buy some personal stuff. “Uh... I guess I'll pay for things.”

  “Okay,” Jaxon says, his voice tinged with shame before he brightens. “Wait, I've got ten grand sitting in my backpack.”

  I can't help but laugh when Jaxon takes out the bundle of bills then stops, frustrated. “Fuck. There's no way they'll take these. Those guys won't accept anything bigger than a twenty.”

  “That's okay,” I reassure him. “Walk me out?”

  He escorts me down the stairs to the door, where he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “This will open this door. There's a corner shop if you go to your left, two blocks down. They've got some food, some other stuff. Overpriced shit, but you know how it is.”

  I pull the hood on Jaxon's sweatshirt up, but his eyes stop me before I can lean in to kiss him. “I promise, I'll be back in twenty minutes.”

  The walk down to the store feels surreal. I'm involved in an ad hoc plot to take my own father for a shitload of money, and then there's the strange situation between me and Jaxon. I poured out my heart to him, or tried to, but he's still so angry. I'm not too sure what to think right now except that I want to help him.

  The corner store is just that, a tiny little shop that devotes a full quarter of its space to selling liquor--mostly beer, malt liquor, and the cheapest brands of high-tension booze you can find. I avoid all of that and go down the other short aisles, tossing in snacks as well as the closest things to real food I can find, canned stuff that would make the cooks at Whitechapel gag but we can at least make some sort of meals with. I also grab a few personal items, including a bar of soap, a toothbrush and comb, and a two-pack each of panties and undershirts from the so-called 'Hames' company. Gotta love gray market products.

  When I get back, Jaxon's stripped to the waist, although his jeans are unbuttoned and the flash of underwear I see when he turns around is a different color from what he had on before. I guess he's at least partially done with his sponge bath. And he's shaved... it's nice.

  “Chill, it's just me,” I try to calmly say when I see the kitchen knife in his hand. “You didn't hear me close the door downstairs?”

  “This place has terrible acoustics,” Jaxon excuses, turning back to the pot on the electric hotplate and pulling out the washcloth there. He squeezes it out before he rubs the cloth under his left armpit, then repeats the process with his right side. “What all did you get?”

  I bring the two shopping bags over, setting the one full of food on the folding table that seems to be Jaxon's counter, holder for his hotplate, and dining room table all in one. “A few hygiene things, we didn't exactly grab my toothbrush when we left this morning, and then some canned items. I'm not much of a cook though. This might be straight heat and eat sort of stuff.”

  Jaxon looks at what I bought, nodding. “Good enough for me. But I’m sure you’re in for a new experience. Thanks.”

  “For what?” I ask, setting my other bag over by his 'dresser.' “For buying four cans of Spam?”

  “That... and for coming back. While you were gone, I had my doubts,” Jaxon admits. “Just... thanks for coming back.”

  I know he wants to say more; I want to say more, but fear stops me, and I shrug. “We're in this together now, Jaxon. I know you don't believe me, or maybe don't trust me, but we are. Now, how's the water?”

  “Not bad,” Jaxon says, looking in the pot. “I can get you a fresh pot when it's time for your washup if you want.”

  “Nah, I don't want to wait that long,” I reply, stripping off Jaxon's sweatshirt. “Here, let me get your back.”

  Jaxon gives me an incredulous look but hands me the washcloth, turning around and putting his hands on the sink. I start at his shoulders, rubbing hard at first, but as I run my hands over the lean muscles, bumping over the scars, I find myself slowing down, exploring his body. Finally, I swallow, nervous and turned on. “How'd you get the scars?”

  He tenses, then lifts his head, not looking at me but looking into the small mirror that I guess he uses to shave. “Let’s just say I had to learn very quickly inside.”

  “What happened?” I ask, swallowing the hurt as I trace a line that goes from near his backbone down and to the outside, ending a little bit below his lat muscle.

  “There was a gang on my cell block, and if you had anything decent, they'd take it for 'protection.' Aunt Eleanora didn't know, and her third visit, she gave me a pair of shoes after she saw the things that the state issued. Nothing fancy, basic shit, but still enough to get attention.”

  I gulp, putting the washcloth back on the table. “They wanted your shoes.”

  Jaxon nods, turning to look at me. “I would have given them up, I didn't need the hassle, and I didn't have any friends in there. But Eleanora got sick. I found out through a letter from her doctor, since I was her only next of kin and they wanted to know if I would be willing to sign a power of attorney. She didn't want to tell me, she was too proud and didn't want me to feel bad. So when some dude told me he wanted my shoes, I told him to fuck off.”

  “What did they hit you with?” I ask, stunned. “The scarring is terrible.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can get your hands on,” Jaxon says, almost contemplatively. “Used car fan belts can be hidden a lot of different ways. And healthcare on the inside, unless you’re literally almost dead, isn't much more than a bandage.”

  Jaxon shakes his head, and gives me a slightly bitter smile. “It wasn’t all like that. I learned there, too. But enough on that. I'll let you wash up now.”

  I swallow and nod, watching Jaxon cross the room to pick up a small hand towel to dry himself with. I pull my t-shirt off and then look at my boobs, wondering if I should try and pick up a bra somewhere. I didn't think of one last night. The water's warm, and I start, using the fresh washcloth I bought to wash my belly and then under my breasts. The cool air makes my nipples tighten, and I bite my lip, wishing I had a little help with this. Finally, I have just my back left, and I cover up. “Jaxon?”

  “What is it?” he asks, his back still turned. “All done?”

  “No... can you get my back?”

  Jaxo
n nods, then looks me over as I cover my chest. “Sure. It's easier than how I normally wash my back.”

  “Which is?” I ask, turning around and pulling my hair over my shoulder. “Not wash at all?”

  Jaxon laughs, taking my washcloth from me and wetting it again. “Try a cloth on a stick. Pain in the ass, but does the trick.”

  The washcloth feels great on my shoulders and I sigh, leaning forward like Jaxon did and grabbing the edge of the sink, forgetting the fact that my breasts are totally uncovered as his hand rubs the washcloth up and down my back. He goes to dip the cloth again and I close my eyes in pleasure when he starts rubbing again, my breath catching when his hands come around to cup both of my breasts, massaging. I moan, pushing back, relishing the feeling of his strong hands. He's gentler than last night, but it feels just as good if not better as he teases my nipples, making me gasp when he tweaks my right side. “Jaxon...”

  “You promised that as long as you're with me, I can do what I want with you,” he reminds me, and I chuckle, pushing back.

  “I did, didn't I? So what do you want?” I ask, mewling in disappointment as he lets go of my breasts, and I turn around. “I wasn't lying.”

  Jaxon pulls me tight and kisses me, his lips still strong but again, more tender than last night. “I know,” Jaxon says confidently when he lets me breathe. “So I'm doing what I want.”

  He picks me up and carries me to the mattress, laying me on top of it. He kneels and tugs at my jeans, stripping me of my boots and pants quickly before he looks at my panties for a moment before stripping them off. The hungry, greedy grin on his lips as I lie back naked for him is thrilling, and I feel powerful. “See something you like?”

  “Hungry,” he teases, leaving his jeans on as he lowers his head and kisses me, more tender than ever. “I'm going to have some breakfast.”

  I'm confused at first as we keep kissing, our tongues twisting and tasting each other, my skin thrilling as Jaxon presses me into the mattress, his hands stroking my skin, cupping my ass but running lower, lifting my leg and holding me warmly.

  Jaxon's lips move lower, kissing down my throat and between my breasts, pausing at my belly button to dip his tongue into the shallow well as the knowledge dawns on me what's going to happen. He looks at me with knowing eyes, smiling as he kisses even lower, his eyes glowing as his mouth opens and he breathes on my pussy, the warm air making the rest of my chilled skin feel even tighter in contrast.

  His first touch of his tongue on my pussy lips sends an explosion up my body to burst behind my eyeballs, a silent, overwhelming strobe light of pleasure that I never even thought could be possible. The second lick is even better, and I give myself to Jaxon, trusting him totally. “Jaxon... oh my...”

  He mumbles something, I don't know what it is as he licks and sucks, kissing my pussy and sending tremors through my body. He's perfect, each stroke of his tongue teaching me more about my body than I ever thought possible. When he starts licking my clit I lose it, grinding up into him and calling his name over and over, begging him to give me more.

  His tongue moves faster, circling and teasing, pulling my clit out of its shy little home to expose itself to his devilish lips and tongue. He sucks, nibbles and tastes me until tears squeeze out the sides of my eyes. I can't take any more, but he leaves me caught, so high I'm afraid to come down but not able to take that final step to paradise. I look down and he's smiling, watching me with a happy grin on his face. He knows exactly what he's doing to me. “Please Jaxon, I'm begging you.”

  Jaxon's tongue starts flicking over the tip of my clit, not just helping that last step but launching me into a body-quaking orgasm. My eyes roll up and darkness threatens to overcome me it's so strong, and I dig my fingers into his hair, wanting to scream out how I feel but not able to. I can't form words. Instead I vow, that I want to stay by his side... if he'll let go of his anger, if he'll let me stay.

  I sag down, exhausted from the power of coming, stroking Jaxon's soft, beautiful hair and looking down at him happily. “Thank you, Jaxon. But why?”

  He smiles softly and kisses my stomach before moving up beside me to give me a kiss, his lips tangy and sweet at the same time. “Because I had to have a taste. And because later, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you're going to be knocked out afterward.”

  “Why not do that now?” I ask, stroking his face. “You can, you know.”

  “I know,” Jaxon says with a soft laugh. “But I’m hungry, and you’re barely an appetizer. So let's make some food, recover our strength... and then we'll see.”

  Chapter 7

  Jaxon

  My cock aches. I haven't come this many times in one day since a weekend when I was fourteen and Aunt Eleanora left to visit an old friend. I was left with a laptop and the newfound discovery of what internet porn is. This is better though, the woman in my arms is soft and warm, the scent in my nose is real, and the sounds of her satisfaction stir me in a way that I didn't think could happen.

  “What are you thinking about?” Mandy says, taking my hand and placing it on her left breast over her heart. “Don't tell me you're wanting more. I don't think I can even walk right now.”

  I don't want to tell her what I'm thinking because for the past fifteen hours, I've been in a fantasy, one that isn't just about the sex, but about something that I dreamed about during those long lonely nights in prison. The nights when I needed something, anything to keep me sane, from becoming even more bitter and twisted than I am.

  But Mandy looks at me with those amazing green eyes, and instead of lying, I open my mouth, speaking from the darker side of my heart. “How do you know who your father really is?”

  Mandy nods, swallowing. “I learned. I didn't fully understand when we started seeing each other back at Saint Foster's, even though I had an idea that something had happened to have us move into Whitechapel. I thought it was just something personal between our fathers.”

  “Our fathers?” I ask, my emotions getting the better of me and I get up off the mattress, grabbing my jeans and pulling them on. “You say that like you understand, but do you really? You see my scars, but do you have any idea what it felt like, watching as you get railroaded by corrupt cops and a corrupt fucking judge? Knowing that your public defender attorney is being bullied and doesn't give two fucks about you? Watching your aunt's face as she sees the last decent hope for her family crushed, my scholarship snatched away. Do you know what it feels like to watch the girl you thought you were in love with betray you, when all she had to do was say something, anything?!”

  I don't mean to say that last question, but it came out anyway, and Mandy looks at me with tears forming in her eyes, unable to say anything. I turn and grab my t-shirt and sweatshirt, heading for the door, I gotta get my head right. “I'm going out. It's after dark. I'll be safe.”

  I don't listen for a reply as I hurry down the stairs and leave, cutting right instead of left. I know these alleys and side streets like the back of my hand, and while Henry's boys might be out in force looking for my ass, I know who's cleared on which streets, which means I can see who is and isn't right in the neighborhood. I enter the area controlled by the various Latino gangs, glad they don't really care about me. They don't even like Henry's associates except to keep the tentative peace on the border of their territories. Still, I keep my hood up. There's no need to take stupid risks.

  As I walk, I wonder why I told Mandy about how I felt when I was arrested. I'd just gone by her house to look at Whitechapel, not even to pick her up. I knew that there was no way that Henry would tolerate his daughter being picked up by a kid on a Harley, especially me.

  The first time I saw Mandy, I was already getting a reputation for being the kid who didn't fit in, even though I still did great in school. It came easy. I was the guy who was more than willing to tell the prep boys and the future sorority girls where they could stick their hundred dollar haircuts and five hundred dollar loafers. But then we talked, and those green eyes, silver oak h
air, and welcoming smile just got to me... and she liked me, too. I was even willing to look past her last name.

  Then on that day, I'd gone for a ride. Eleanora was coughing again and I promised to go and get her some Robitussin. We didn't even know it was cancer then, I just knew that it wouldn't hurt to stop by Whitechapel for fifteen minutes. I even brought a little present for Mandy, on the off chance that her father wasn't home, maybe I could get her to come to the door for just two or three minutes.

  I walked up, thinking I looked halfway reasonable at the time. I even had the present in my pocket, a simple cheap gold bracelet, but the first and only real gift I ever bought a girl. Walking up, I stopped to admire the black Lotus sports car in the driveway, walking around it to check it out. I thought about how one day, after I made my way up the economic ladder again, that I'd have a car just like it.

  I must have spent too long admiring it, because the next thing I knew, the cops were there, arresting me for supposedly trying to steal it. As they dragged me off, I saw Mandy in the window, and I called out to her... but she didn't say anything. She never said anything the whole time. Henry and his band of cronies saw to it that I got the book thrown at me, regardless of how ridiculous it was.

  These thoughts distract me as I walk the alleys, when suddenly I hear a voice call out from behind me. “Hey! You the dude the gringo boss man's looking for!”

  I turn, seeing a tough-looking Latino guy, one of the local gangbangers, and he's got a look I'm all too familiar with in his eyes. I don't have time for a fight, but I know the locals. They prefer knives to guns, so I move quick, grabbing the guy by the throat and slamming his head against the brick side of the alley as hard as I can twice before he can go for anything. I take off running, going halfway back to my place before I slow down, keeping an eye out.

  I slip inside quickly and head upstairs, where I find Mandy dressed, her knees up to her chin, her eyes red after obviously crying.