Claimed by the Bad Boy Read online

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition

  Claimed by the Bad Boy

  Copyright 2015 by Author

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-891-9

  Cover art by Mina Carter

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Spanked by the Bad Boy by London Saint James

  To my Fans and Readers:

  I want to say thank you for the interest you continue to show regarding my work. Truly, your encouragement and support means the world to me. I’ve said this before, but I’m going to say it again. I have the best fans and friends in the world. I have enjoyed reading the outpouring of emails asking me about the Bad Boy Fever series, many of which put a huge smile upon my face.

  For those who told me to type faster because they couldn’t wait for book two, I listened. And for those who asked me to put the ‘bad’ in my bad boy, well, Ryker Cage was indeed one sexy bad boy to write about. It is my sincerest hope you love reading Claimed by the Bad Boy as much as I loved writing it.

  XoXo

  London Saint James

  [email protected]

  Decadent Publishing Recent Releases

  Kotori’s Sacrifice by Dakota Trace

  Lily in Chains by Kate Richards

  Beautiful Nightmare by Bella Juarez

  The Bodyguard and the Dom by T.L. Reeve

  Pursuing Their Fantasies by Kayleigh Malcolm

  Seoul Spankings by Anastasia Vitsky

  Romancing the Author by Kali Willows

  Endless Devotion by Libby Waterford

  Claiming His Cub by Kayleigh Malcolm

  Silk & Scars by Cassandra Dean

  Rain by Taryn Kincaid

  Hard Lovin’ by Desiree Holt

  How Six Chefs Got It On by S. Ford Brown

  Moon Crazy by D.L. Jackson

  Gemini by Catherine Peace

  Desert Tryst by Susanne Saville

  The Mysterious Mrs. Pennybaker by Nancy Fraser

  Rolling in Sin by Kayleigh Malcolm

  One Night with His Wife by Sara Daniel

  One Exquisite Night by Annie Anthony

  Elena Chavez by Jeanette Collins

  Spurred on by Jon Keys

  Saving Me by Bella Juarez

  Submissive on Display by Tara Quan

  Also by London Saint James

  Spanked by the Bad Boy

  Claimed by the Bad Boy

  Something always brings him back to her….

  Ryker Cage is a rough guy, with very particular tastes when it comes to sex. Rough, hard, and dirty is the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He doesn’t have a clue about connecting with his sensitive side in the bedroom, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit. He fears nothing—except his feelings for the sweet and innocent Molly Monroe.

  The bad boy who lived next door claimed Molly’s heart long ago. Crazy or not, she loves him. Always has. No matter what he does to push her away, or how far he runs, Ryker is the one man she’ll never stop loving.

  When Ryker finally finds his way back home, will he find the courage to claim what’s always been his? Or will he be destined for heartache when someone threatens to take everything away?

  Claimed by the Bad Boy

  Bad Boy Fever

  By

  London Saint James

  Let someone love you just the way you are, as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.

  —Marc Hack

  Chapter One

  Present.

  “Fuck,” Ryker said in a gruff grumble, staring down at the smoking-hot, red-headed bartender on her knees, polishing his dick with her tongue stud—her shorts unzipped, her right hand tucked inside—rubbing herself. Let’s just say, when he ordered a deep throat, this wasn’t what he had in mind.

  “You’re so big,” she managed between long licks. “Just look at you.”

  He was a big guy, so hearing what she thought he wanted, wasn’t a turn on. What was? The way Red nibbled down his length and fondled his balls.

  He sucked a breath through his teeth. The little vixen teabagged him.

  “Sweet.” His head went back when she trailed her tongue up his sack, between his testicles, continued up his shaft, swirled the metal piercing of hers across the winking slit of his cock before wrapping those lips around the broad head—sucking him hard. “There you go.”

  “Do you like that?” she asked.

  “Definitely.”

  The bar babe picked up the pace, using her left hand to grip the base of him, alternating between jacking and sucking.

  “Keep it up, and I’ll come, baby,” he said.

  Ryker had no idea what she said her name was. Why? Easy. He’d been too busy eyeing her round ass jiggle in those skin-tight daisy dukes when he escorted her to the back door of The Cherry Bomb for a cigarette, although he didn’t smoke. And when she rubbed up against him—supple breasts to muscled chest—whispering things like, “Suck,” and “You,” and “Down the back of my throat” into his ear, they’d taken a quick detour.

  He wasn’t what one would consider sensitive when it came to the opposite sex. Rough, hard, and dirty was the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He supposed his tastes were very particular. And, he didn’t have a clue about connecting with his softer side, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit his free-spirited aunt Dali spouted to him and his brother every chance she got.<
br />
  The bombshell scraped her teeth up his shaft, and he groaned low in his throat, muscles flexing, fingers splaying wide on the two, steel sidewalls of the stall—calves hitting the front of the toilet.

  “Mmm….” The little hum she did sent a satisfying vibration down the length of him.

  The shine from the overhead light bounced off the top of her head, setting a sunset blaze as she bobbed up and down on his cock. She was eager. Focused. Determined to have him bust a nut. He growled at the sight. She reminded him of a porn star by the sounds she made. And the suctioned pull of her mouth on him with the twist at the tip, along with the hand-tug at the root—freaking brilliant. But when she changed things up and twirled her tongue around the under-edge of his flared head, good God, the combination was shiver inducing. Having been the happy recipient of a lot of differing techniques in his almost thirty-two years, Ryker figured she hadn’t learned to do that without plenty of practice.

  Shit. She did the combo thing again. Red had him there. Ready.

  “I’m going to come,” he warned.

  She popped her plump lips from his throbbing dick. “Mm, yes,” she uttered in a breathy voice. A second later, he exploded, warm jizz covering her manicured fingers and silky-smooth palm, while she shook—her other hand still shoved down the front of her shorts—climaxing.

  Ryker closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the extraordinary haze of nothingness. No thoughts. No guilt. Nothing but the slowing of his breaths until they drifted into quietness.

  “Good?” she asked, disrupting the silence.

  His eyelids lifted, and he glanced down into her face. “Great, baby.”

  She took on an eye-twinkling, pleased expression then Red slipped her fingers free, reached for the toilet paper, and wiped her cum-covered appendages.

  “I’m off in a couple of hours.” She smiled up at him—a dimple creasing the right side of her cheek.

  Ignoring the comment, Ryker righted himself and tucked his softening cock back into his pants in an efficient manner. Here was the part he detested the most. He hadn’t thought Red would be a clinger. He figured she’d be well versed in the rules of a random hook-up. But he also understood what her last statement was leading to. She wanted more, and he didn’t.

  When Red stood up, his gaze shifted to her. She reached around him and tossed the T.P. in the toilet, zipped up, turned, unlocked the slider on the stall door, and stepped out. They were the only two in the restroom. He was glad they didn’t have an audience awaiting their exit.

  “Want to hang around for a while?” she asked. “We can go back to my place when I clock out.”

  They both cleaned up at the sinks. No need to wait. He wouldn’t be going to her place.

  “Can’t.” He added soap from the dispenser to his palm. “Early morning.”

  “Hmm,” she mumbled while washing her hands.

  Jesus. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a fuss. He hated those pouty, I-can’t-believe-I-blew-you, you bastard, scenes. But when her green-eyed gaze met his sea-blue one in the mirror, she appeared fine. No frown. No pursed lips. No tears threatening to overflow. She didn’t look as if she was going to go all fatal attraction on his ass.

  She asked, “Do you want my digits?”

  Ryker rinsed and dried his hands. He might be an epic asshole at times, nonetheless, taking her number and acting as though he would call, wasn’t something he’d do.

  “I think we both know I won’t be calling.” Being as upfront as he could be, he strived not to sound too douchebaggery.

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” Red sauntered to the restroom door. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she said, “Thanks for taking a ciggy break with me.”

  “Sure thing, although I should be the one thanking you.” She grinned. “So, thank you.” No reason not to be polite. After all, Red did all the work, and even got herself off in the doing. He’d just been along for the joy ride.

  “I guess I’ll see you around the club, Ryker.”

  “Yeah.”

  He stared after her. Something about the way she said “I’ll see you around,” in a soft, almost remorseful tone, reminded him of—

  “Don’t,” he reprimanded and scrubbed his palm down the back of his neck.

  Fan-fucking-tastic. He was talking to himself now.

  He pulled his cell from the top pocket of his shirt, gripping too hard.

  Letting up before he broke his phone, he brushed his thumb across the black screen, bringing it to life, and gritted his teeth. Ryker detested this. He despised a lot of things when it came to his desires, he supposed, and this ache for something he couldn’t have had kept him traveling so much over the past year, taking on software security jobs, which took him away from home. Far from….

  Damn.

  So much for the bliss of oblivion, which was, let’s face it, always fleeting. Chasing that short-lived minute was part of the reason for his extracurricular activities. To stop thinking. Forget. Lose himself. And here he was, minutes after his latest quickie, contemplating a conversation better left alone. Nothing good would ever come from what he was considering.

  Ryker glanced down at the phone—finger poised.

  “Screw it.”

  He typed in his text. Paused. Thumb hovering for a long moment, reading those four words over and over. And, then, unable to do anything else, he pressed—send.

  ***

  The low, musical sounds of Debussy drifted through the speakers of Molly Monroe’s office, blending into the tap-tap-tapping noise of her fingers flying across the ergonomic keyboard as she typed. With a breath, the scent of the mahogany-teakwood desk candle her secretary gave her filled the air, creating the perfect mood to lose herself in even though she was working.

  She’d taken her strawberry-blonde hair down from the severe twist she always wore for work, untucked her silky blue blouse from her A-line skirt, and had even kicked off her Burberry pumps, settling in hours ago for a long, quiet night of undisturbed time. Now, she’d found her rhythm, making a dent in her to-do list.

  When something dark flickered within her peripheral, she glanced up from her computer screen.

  “Jack!” she yelped, her hand going to her heart in a kneejerk reaction to pat at the overactive thump going on there. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of her office—the long, lean lines of him in his expensive black suit creating the picture of masculinity and casual confidence. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I thought everyone left to get a head start on the long holiday weekend.”

  “They did.” He gazed at her with eyes the color of warm cognac. “So why are you still here?”

  Molly blew a piece of hair from her face before saying, “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “The Aspin conference cut into my time this week, and I wanted to go over the financials for our board meeting next Tuesday.”

  “Ah,” she mumbled. “Do you think they’ll give you a hard time about the expansion proposal?”

  “When it comes to spending money, needed expansion or not, you know it’s better to have all our ducks in a row.”

  Molly nodded. Being the co-director of the non-profit agency for abused women, Horizons, she was always present at the board meetings, so she understood the kind of scrutiny the project would be under.

  “How are things going with the new case manager?” he asked. “Are you going to be able to give her the case load you took on and go back to the business of running the department instead of giving Superwoman a run for her money?”

  She sat back in her chair. “Penny needs eight more hours of training and supervision then she can take over. So, yes.” Molly smiled. “I’ll be turning over everything to her next week and hanging up my cape.”

  Jack Jamison straightened. “Sounds good,” he said. He glanced at his wristwatch. “You want to take a break and grab a bite of dinner with me?”

  “I
have to get my desk cleared.” Molly fluttered her hand over the stack of papers to her right. “If not, I may need to hang a danger of avalanche sign.”

  “Come on.” He chuckled. “Work can wait. I’m feeling a bit ignored.”

  “Ignored?”

  “Yes.”

  “But we had dinner when you got back into town last night.”

  Jack tilted his head, causing a piece of copper-brown hair to brush across his brow. “We had more than dinner. And, so there’s no misunderstanding here, I want to have ‘dinner’ every night with you,” he said in his tempting voice.

  Molly blushed. “We agreed to keep things under wraps and casual. Every night, isn’t exactly casual.”

  “I ordered your favorite, and it’s already in my office, waiting for us,” he said, not bothering to travel down their current discussion path.

  “Chinese from Ming’s?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Molly clapped and did a little bounce in her chair. “I can’t say no to Ming’s.”

  “I know.”

  She grinned. “Oh, you do, do you?”

  He nodded. “Why do you think I ordered takeout from them? I even got those dumplings you rave about.” Jack beckoned with his fingers. “So hurry up, before everything gets cold.”

  With a quick save to her work, she powered down her computer.

  “Ready,” she said, rolling her leather chair back.

  When she stood and walked around her desk with stocking-free feet, Jack did a double take before the corners of his mouth started their ascent.

  “You know….” His gaze trailed up from her pink-tipped toes to her face. “You sure pull off the barefoot rumpled look well.”

  Molly rolled her green eyes at him. “We agreed. No flirting at the office. Remember?”