Indecency: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  INDECENCY

  What happens when two alphas want the same woman?

  Death...that's what happens.

  Hunter is an ex-Navy SEAL who now works for Citadel, a private security company. A chance meeting with Celeste, after a car accident, leaves him drawn to the wounded girl, who is still covered with fresh bruises from being held captive by Rez, an iron-fisted mafia boss.

  Hunter promises her safety, but an old friend has the capability of ruining everything with just one phone call.

  Let us make this journey together…you and I…to love one another in the face of storms. I shall be your temptress, and you shall be my muse.

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 BY PENELOPE MARSHALL

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, SCANNED, OR DISTRIBUTED IN ANY PRINTED OR ELECTRONIC FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION. PLEASE DO NOT PARTICIPATE IN OR ENCOURAGE PIRACY OF COPYRIGHTED MATERIALS IN VIOLATION OF THE AUTHOR'S RIGHTS. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES AND INCIDENTS EITHER ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR'S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY, AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO LOCALES, EVENTS, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, OR ACTUAL PERSONS – LIVING OR DEAD – IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

  Acknowledgements:

  I'd like to thank everyone who helped make this book possible:

  To my dad and Alma, who read every version, searching for story holes.

  To my wonderful friends, Stacy, Liz, and Jeanette who are willing to read anything I throw at them.

  And last but not least, Ricardo, for the beautiful cover!!!

  Editor: Avril Stepowski

  To check out my other titles, please visit me at:

  http://amazon.com/author/penelopemarshall

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  INDECENCY

  ESCAPE

  CALM WATER

  FERAL

  WRATH

  BIG PÀPI CHULO

  FURY

  MY PROPERTY

  ULTIMATE BETRAYAL

  REDEMPTION

  BROTHERS

  INDECENCY

  CELESTE

  3 days ago…

  It's funny what a woman is worth when no one cares about her. One would think a human life would cost more than the change found in the center console of a car, but there were some of us who knew better. The some of us who made a living on our backs, doing the things any respectable woman would never dream of.

  I couldn't even tell you the last time I saw the light of day without Rez, the mob boss for the Torello family, standing next to me, keeping me from freedom and reminding me at every turn I didn't live in that world anymore; I lived in his. He owned me, bought and paid for with a mere two hundred dollars. A fact he reminded me of every chance he could.

  I was his number one girl, though you would never know it by the way he treated me. He was one mean son-of-a-bitch, and handled me with an iron fist. It's a funny thing to know the taste of freedom, lose it, and want to die because of it.

  Death would be nice right about now.

  I'm sure death had its drawbacks, but I knew it offered a certain amount of reprieve from the horror this world had wrought upon me; the horror he wrought upon me.

  There was a slight tap at the door, which caused my breathing to quicken. I pulled the heavy white down comforter over my scantily clad body, trying to cover any exposed skin.

  "Yes?" I asked.

  The locks clicked, the chain slid off its track, and the large wooden door creaked open. The added security was not to keep the evil out; it was to keep me in place for when evil decided to pay a visit. Evil that was as handsome as the sky was blue. Evil that scared the hell out of me, but made me wet every time its sexy physique walked into the room.

  My heart sunk. "Rez," I said, whipping out of bed, kneeling on the floor with my hands clasped behind me.

  "Sir," I added after the fact.

  Fuck…too late.

  Speaking to him without addressing him as 'Sir' was a big no-no, and I was about to be punished for it. His eyes were on fire, his hand ready to slap me the moment he stepped through the doorway.

  Before I knew it I was on the floor, my cheek searing from the back-handed slap. He had a quick hand, I could tell you that much. I pushed myself back up to my knees, clasping my hands behind me. I looked up at his firm jaw, and the well- groomed beard that covered it. I tried to look away, but I couldn't help but admire how seductively handsome he was.

  What kind of fucked up woman is attracted to a man who only uses her for sex?

  "Don't you ever…ever…"

  "I'm sorry, Sir," I whimpered.

  "Did I give you permission to speak?" he asked as his hand careened across my face again, sending me sailing to the floor.

  I rested my palm on the throbbing flesh of my cheek, in no hurry to get back up.

  "Get the fuck up!" he yelled.

  I pushed myself off the floor once again. "I'm sorry, Sir."

  "You're always fuckin' sorry. You're a sorry ass bitch. You know how many bitches want to be where you are, and you don't even appreciate how well I treat your dirty ass."

  I repositioned myself on my knees with my hands once again clasped behind me. "I know. I'm sorry, Sir."

  "How many times do I need to remind you of your place?" he barked.

  I didn't know what to say. Pretty much any answer would infuriate him at this point.

  He leaned his ear toward my mouth. "How many fuckin' times do I need to remind you?"

  "A lot, Sir," I said, looking at the floor.

  "Are you gonna be a good little girl today?"

  "Yes, Sir." I nodded.

  A smile rose on his face. "That's better. Isn't that better when we come to an understanding?" he asked as he unbuckled his belt.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "You know you're gonna have to be punished, right?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Stand up."

  I obeyed. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't say no to him. His chiseled muscles, hard body, and the way he demanded things of me, got me wet every time. I couldn't control the way my body responded to his dominance, even when my head and heart told me it was wrong.

  He walked behind me, laying his hands on my breasts, fervently caressing them. They eventually made their way under my camisole, tugging and pinching at my hard nipples. I wanted him, and the things I knew he could do to me if I were a good girl.

  "You deserve this, right?" he asked.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Show me that you enjoy it."

  I raised my hands behind me, clasping my palms at the back of his neck as he continued to knead my ample C cups with his strong hands. He flicked his tongue at my ear, sliding his hands down my stomach, past the edges of my panties, and slipping his fingers between my thighs, discovering the moist crease hidden behind the lace. I did not oppose him. I could not oppose him.

  God, why couldn't I oppose him?

  "Do you want it?"

  "Yes, Sir," I whispered.

  "I don't feel like you really want it," he said in a tight voice as he slid in his finger, massaging me from inside.

  "I want it, Sir," I said more adamantly as I gripped the back of his neck tightly.

  He pulled his finger out abruptly, causing me to stumble back a bit from the loss of his body against mine, and walked across the room to grab the wooden chair that sat in the corner.

  Plopping it down in front of me, he said, "Sit."
/>   I did as he asked. I watched as he took a match and lit the candle which sat on top of my dresser. Pulling open the top drawer…his drawer… he pulled out three sets of silver handcuffs.

  "Do you trust me?"

  "Yes, Sir," I said, shakily.

  "Put your hands behind you and spread your legs," he ordered.

  I silently complied. He secured my wrists with one set, and each ankle to a leg of the chair with the other two sets, affixing my legs in a spread position. My panties were already soaked. No matter how much I tried to hate this part, deep down inside, I secretly loved it. I think he knew it, too.

  I'm a fuckin' animal.

  He yanked his belt from the loops in his pants. "Have you been a bad little girl?"

  "Yes, Sir," I said, looking down, frightened, and excited all at the same time.

  "Do bad girls need to be punished?"

  I nodded. I felt a sharp slap on my inner thigh from the leather belt.

  "I asked you a question. Does your Sir not deserve a verbal response?"

  "You do, Sir, and yes, bad girls deserve punishment."

  Another slap of the belt seared through the nerves in my leg. I moaned, partly from pleasure and partly from pain. He dangled the belt in front of my face, then slowly looped it around my neck, affixing it tightly, allowing as little air as possible.

  "Sir, may I speak freely?"

  "You may."

  "I feel a little light-headed, Sir."

  "Is that your Sir's problem?"

  "No, Sir," I replied, sliding in and out of consciousness.

  He grabbed the candle he had lit earlier and walked toward me. My lids fluttered as I watched him tilt the candle over my thighs, letting the melted wax drip on to my flesh.

  I squealed a little at the initial burn. The sensation sent my body into a frenzy, every nerve ending begging for more. He walked behind me and yanked my hair back, holding the candle over my neck, dripping the wax over my breasts.

  My body responded to the tantalizing burn by releasing a rush of adrenaline.

  He stood in front of me and unzipped his pants. "Open your mouth," he ordered.

  I relaxed my jaw to take him in. Rocking back and forth, he skillfully mastered his own rhythm, as he grasped onto the nape of my neck, forcing himself to the back of my throat. His forcefulness was hard to take at times, but I knew if I opposed him, he would just make my punishment last longer.

  He reached down, kneading my breast, intermittently slapping it, his head tilted toward the ceiling, engulfed by the pleasure of the moment. I knew once he came he wouldn't do anything to release me from my angst, but my body throbbed for it anyway, begging for the attention my mouth was receiving. He made a few more hard passes, and then a sudden onslaught of saltiness filled my mouth. I winced, trying to prevent myself from choking, as the warm liquid slid down my throat. He pulled out, letting the excess drip onto the chair between my legs.

  Slipping himself back into his pants, I looked at him longingly, wishing for the chance to use it.

  He smiled as he un-cuffed and unwrapped the belt from around my throat. "Tomorrow," he promised, kissing me gently on the cheek before he left, locking the door behind him.

  I sat there for a moment, rubbing my sore wrists, wondering if a "tomorrow" would ever really come.

  Probably not.

  I sighed as I stood, picking up the chair to return it to the corner of the room, before I walked to the shower to wash off the last thirty minutes.

  ESCAPE

  Rez didn't visit me the next day, or the next, which was unusual for him. Maybe I had been replaced by a younger, more pliable girl? I had to admit the thought of being replaced made me happy and jealous at the same time.

  What kind of freak am I? Maybe I'm suffering from Stockholm syndrome?

  I spent countless hours reading romance novels filled with damsels in distress and Prince Charmings, noting the stark similarities between their lives and mine…minus the Prince Charming part, of course. He looked the part though, and sometimes, just sometimes, he felt like my Prince Charming when he pressed his lips to mine. But that was me just grasping at straws, trying to rationalize my situation.

  I didn't see Rez again until the third morning when my eyes fluttered open to the sensation of a tongue ravishing the soft flesh between my legs. Even though the advance wasn't invited, the skill he displayed still coerced a visceral reaction from me. The sensation forced shivers down my legs, extending out through the tips of my toes. So enthralled in the moment, I bit my bottom lip to keep my mouth from asking him to stop.

  Spreading my legs even farther apart, I grabbed onto a fistful of his light brown hair, immersing myself in the tantalizing savagery. I moaned as a flash of heat washed over me, the preamble to my climax. He selfishly pulled away, taking with him the pleasure that he had been doling out, always knowing right when to stop.

  He knew what he was doing, right when he was doing it. Every move calculated for his maximum pleasure. Pushing himself up to his knees, he grabbed my legs, flipping me over to my stomach. My cheek pressed against the white comforter as Rez slid into me with his solid dick. I clutched the material and closed my eyes, pretending I was somewhere else…anywhere else. Why try to enjoy it? I wasn't going to get mine anyway.

  "Tell me you like it, little slut," he ordered, grabbing a fistful of my hair.

  "I like it, Sir," I exhaled.

  His thrusts quickened, his cock hardened, and I knew he was about to cum. His grunts grew louder as he yanked on my hair, pulling my head back; he made one final hard pass then paused to enjoy his release. The grip he had on my hair loosened as his fingers raked down my spine.

  I waited. Pulling away before he was done pissed him off like nobody's business; a mistake I made once, and only once. Finally sliding himself out, he tapped the thickness of my ass with it a few times. The slapping sound it made tantalized me. I closed my eyes, hoping that he would slide it back in, and let me enjoy myself, but of course, that's not how Rez worked.

  He leaned forward, kissing me lightly on the cheek, and spouted off his usual promise. "Tomorrow."

  The bed jostled up and down as he worked his way off the edge. The sound of his metal buckle clanging together preceded the slamming of the door.

  I lay there alone. Used, and unsatisfied. I waited for the sound of the two locks and the chain to run across its track, but the sound never came. I only heard the sounds of the creaking floorboards as he walked down the hall.

  Is he testing me? Or did he forget?

  I waited for what seemed like hours. I showered, I read a book, I paced to the door a number of times, but I dare not touch it. The excitement of a possible escape healed every sore muscle…every bruise. My body was ready to make the arduous journey away from his clutches.

  The sun had begun to set, and I knew if I didn't make my move soon, I would miss my chance. I picked the least revealing outfit I had available to me, a black skin tight mini dress that could hardly pass for a long tank top, let alone a dress. I threw on a black leather bomber jacket, and a pair of black stiletto heels. Not the most appropriate outfit for a getaway, but I had to make do with what was available to me.

  I walked over to the door, reaching out my hand to grab on to the cold brass knob. I hung my hand in mid-air as I contemplated the consequences of my actions. My fingers slid over the knob, twisting it, and then pulling it open with no opposition from the deadbolts. It just opened. Opened as easily as any door I had ever opened in my life. I peered out, looking up and down the hall, not spying a soul in sight.

  I took a deep breath and took my first step through the threshold of the door. The floor creaked as my foot touched down, just like it creaked whenever Rez left the room. I looked over my shoulder one last time, eyeing the bed where all the debauchery for the last two years had taken place.

  That damn bed. That fucking bed. Heat overtook my body, the rage swelling in me like a volcano. I turned back toward the room, picking up a match from my dre
sser and lit it. A smile fell over my face as I tossed the match on the finely made bed. The comforter smoldered for a moment and then burst into a beautiful red and orange flame. Crackling as it burned up years of servitude.

  I turned, strutting out the room, content in the fact that I had sent Rez a message. A message that I'd hope he would interpret as, "Fuck you, Sir!"

  I hurried down to the garage, and pulled a set of keys from the lock box hanging on the wall. I decided to steal Rez's favorite car, the Maserati, just to add salt to the wound. Maybe I would leave it somewhere for him to find, or maybe, just maybe, that shit would be at the bottom of the Pacific by morning. I screeched out of his pristine garage, the lacquered floor taking on the black tread marks from the brand new 20" Pirelli low profile tires he had installed just last week. I know this because the tires were the only thing he talked about the entire time he fucked me last Thursday afternoon.

  I made it down the 5 freeway to the Plaza Boulevard off-ramp. I wanted to see my parents, since I hadn't seen them in years. As I waited for the cars to pass so I could merge onto the street, I looked down at my dress, realizing this might not be the best outfit for them to see me in after so many years, but I was sure they wouldn't care.

  Pulling on the hem of my dress, I tried to stretch it out as far as I could, in the hopes that it would reach my knees. Who was I kidding? There wasn't enough material to make it half way down my thigh, let alone my knees.

  I tapped on the steering wheel, impatiently waiting for the last car to pass.

  "Finally!"

  I pressed on the gas and sped off down Plaza, toward Highland Avenue, the main drag in National City. If it had been a Sunday night, the whole street would be littered with old school cars, low riders, and on-lookers partying on the sidewalk. I used to love going there with my father to catch glimpses of cars he used to wish for as a teenager. It was something special that we shared.