Page 109 of Bad Boy
“Well, my side is aching like a bitch, and Linc should be here any minute, so can we hug and call it a night or some shit?”
They both laugh freely, and it feels good to clear the air between us. I truly hope we can move on from this.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
REMI
Two weeks have passed since the attack in Asheville, and the P.I. Gramps hired isn’t any closer to finding Logan. I’ve decided I won’t call him Dad anymore. He lost that title a long time ago and sealed the deal when he had Lincoln and me jumped. So now it’s either Logan or scumbag prick.
The only detail the investigator has managed to find is a one-way bus ticket from Detroit to Asheville. Purchased in my father’s name, with cash. So we know for certain that he’s here with hisfriends. And the fact that he’s justwaitingto make a move sets my nerves on edge. More psychological games, but at least the texts have stopped.
Otto has stayed over the entire time, practically moving in. He and Mom are getting closer, and I’m not mad about it. He’s been an important support system for her during this craziness, and for me and Gramps, too, if I’m being honest.
I just wish Lincoln could be here every night. He stays over whenever his parents are out of town. And on the nights they are home, Gramps has extra security discreetly stationed outside their gates. It’s not ideal, but it’s all we can do for the time being. No one wants Lincoln’s parents or the community to find out about this. It would be a scandal, a hit to the Keller family name, and Gramps doesn’t deserve that. We came here for help and, I think, reconnection. Maybe even a fresh start. Neither of us intended to bring this drama to his doorstep.
So far, it’s worked to keep things quiet. No one knows that the entire Keller estate has been in a state of unease for the last two weeks—on edge and waiting for Logan to make his move. Otto and I hate it. We’re both firm believers in the strike first motto, so being a sitting duck doesn’t sit well with us. Even Lurch has been tense, checking the security alarm and cameras constantly.
I know the cops will inevitably get involved once Logan shows up, but Gramps promises nothing will happen to me. I’ve done nothing wrong. His connections on the force already know what’s happening, and he’s paid them generously to keep it quiet.
We filled Grady and Sierra in on everything. We couldn’t let them think we were ghosting them. But it’s not worth the risk to their safety to hang out while there’s still a threat. Logan could be watching us, and I won’t put the twins in danger.
Something’s going to happen, soon. I can feel it in my bones. A storm is coming. Logan isn’t done. He didn’t just accept defeat and run home to Detroit. No fucking way. He came for money, and the greedy fuck won’t leave until he tries his own hand at taking it.
It’s Friday night, and Linc’s parents are in New York for the entire weekend, so he doesn’t have to leave the estate. I can keep him tucked safely into my bed, with my dick nestled in his ass for the next two days.
We’re cuddled up, watching the newGame of Thronesshow. Lincoln is snuggled into my side with his head on my chest and his thigh thrown over mine. His delicate hand rests on my abdomen, just above the waistband of my boxer briefs. He scratches lightly at the hair there as I draw lazy circles on his soft skin with my fingertips.
“Even though a lot of bad things have happened in the last month, I wouldn’t take any of it back. I’d go through it all again, just to know you. To love you,” I murmur into his hair.
“Me too, Remi. I love you more than anything.” He punctuates his words with a gentle rock of his hips, grinding his semi into my thigh.
“Yeah?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes. So fuckin’ much.”
He’s started cursing more when it’s just the two of us in bed. And it gets me so fucking hot to know those filthy words only leave his mouth for me.
I roll him to his back, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his lean body until I get to his little briefs I gave him with the periodic table printed all over them. I smirk, feeling supremely satisfied that he loves them so much and knowing I have five other pairs of scientific underwear in my closet for him.
I nuzzle him over the fabric, breathing in his heady scent of male musk and fresh citrus soap. I hum in approval before peeling them down, freeing him.
His cock twitches, stretching longer before my eyes. I lean down and swirl my tongue along the crown, feeding his length into my mouth. I bob my head, taking him deep before pulling off with tight suction. He moans wantonly, reaching out for me.
“When I’m done, I’m gonna paint your fucking guts with my cum.”
And then I dive back down, sucking him into the back of my throat and swallowing against his tip. He cries out, grabbing onto my hair and tugging hard. Lincoln fucks into my mouth until he comes, spurting down my throat and nearly choking me with his jizz. I swallow every last drop, loving his taste. His flavor.
His breaths are uneven, but he’s ready for more. Linc rolls over, crawling to his hands and knees and arching his back, presenting his ass to me. His cock hangs half-hard and glistening between his legs. I skim my fingers down his spine, ready to show him just how much I truly fucking love him.
* * *
A rattling noise rouses me from sleep, and I roll over, pulling Lincoln’s back to my front. I drift off again until I hear the same scratching sound before the bedroom door clicks open.
Like a specter from the past, my father steps forward, seemingly out of nowhere. His dark, messy hair is pulled into a top knot, and it looks like he hasn’t shaved since he got here two weeks ago. His smile is all teeth—evil and conniving, making me feel like the spawn of Satan himself.
“Hello, Son,” he says in a chilly tone that sends ice down my spine.
My heart jumps into my throat, and my mouth goes dry. As much as I talk a big game, to see him standing here in my room, with agunpointed at me and my boyfriend. . .
