Good Gone Bad (The Fallen Men, #3)

by Giana Darling

He had a way of looking at me that seared me to my very soul. It was as if he could read every thought I’d ever had, every feeling I’d never been able to correctly express in the blue of my irises, as if he would happily drown in the blacks of my eyes. He looked at me as if his world began and ended in my gaze.

“My Rosie, what happened?”

I was strong. I was thorn-studded roses, smoking gunmetal and the cool heat of weed being sucked down your throat.

God, but I both loved and hated that I couldn’t hold my own against Danner. That my body and soul could outvote my mind and give in to the tears, because a huge part of me knew that there was no hiding from Danner. Not when he held my thorny heart in his hands. Not when he’d had it inked onto his chest.

“What happened to my girl?”

“Tell me so I can kill them.”

this wasn’t the first time Danner had offered to do bad for me. In fact, it wasn’t even the hundredth. He’d been going bad for me for a very long time.

It shouldn’t have been romantic, his corruption and my culpability, but it was.

“Please, Lion, you make me feel safe and loved. I need you right now. I’ve needed you for a long time.”

“Be a good girl and come all over my fingers. I want your cum dripping down my wrist.”

“Knew you’d have a gorgeous cunt.”

“No excuses,” he muttered in my sex. “Come for me again, Rosie. Be a good girl.”

I shuddered at the thought of being good for him. God, I’d never wanted to be good for anyone else in my life, or any reason other than him, but fuck me if I didn’t want to prove to him just how good a girl I could be.

I felt utterly used, completely broken apart and strangely clean, as if he had deconstructed me only to reassemble me properly again later.

I knew, if anyone could fix me, if anyone could love the wild, broken spirit that was me, it was Lionel Danner.

Rosie asking her Lion if he was going to let her get in trouble, however trivial the consequences of that may be? I knew without consciously deciding which side would win.

“How’s my thorny Rose this morning?”

“You look good. Like the sight of you in my stuff.”

“Possessive,” I noted, slightly surprised.

“Got you tattooed over my heart, rebel girl. Don’t know if it gets more possessive than that.”

“If I’d known taking off my shirt was all it’d take to make you docile, I’d’ve done it a long time ago, a helluva a lot more.”

“You want me to pay attention, I suggest putting a shirt on.”

“Better?”

“No,” I answered truthfully, but I waved the concern away with my hand. “Continue anyway.”

I need to know you’re safe or I’ll do stupid shit I don’t need to do to make sure of it.”

“You think I don’t feel the same fucking way about you?”

“I’d break my own heart a million times over if it meant keeping you alive.”

I was a badass biker chick, but I wanted to submit to him as he was now, transformed by anger and need into an alpha so dominant he demanded my obedience. Only for him had I ever felt that desire, and only for him would I ever give in to it.

We started something last night. Actually, we started something about three and a half years ago when you were still too young, but we picked up the thread last night and I don’t mean to let it go again if I can help it.

“You obey me, Rosie,” he repeated, this time in the dark tone that sent shivers down my spine. “You obey me in the field, and we do this, you obey me in bed, on the couch, in the back of my ‘Stang, where I decide to fuck you. You want this, those are my rules.”

“You want me to submit,” I said, knowing that as I’d known it when he’d taken me over his knee when I was seventeen.

“This is the game we’re gonna play, rebel. You can sass me, fight me and disagree with me all day long. It’s you, and fuck knows, I like that. But now, when I’ve got my hands on your body, I’m your Dominant, and if you want my cock, you’ll fucking well have to earn it by being my good girl instead of my rebel one.”

“You meet me, you think I’m the kinda guy that wants to spank naughty teens and fuck them so hard they scream?”

There’s only strength in submission, only care in Domination. We do what we do because we get off on it and we leave it mostly in the bedroom.

You can still be badass little rebel Rose, and I can still b...

“But we’ll both know the truth. It may be your body, Harleigh Rose, but I own it.”

“Gonna tame you, leave you just wild enough to fight back against every touch, buck back against every thrust of my big cock in your tight, wet cunt.”

“I want to play,” I panted. “I want you to play with me.”

He grinned. “Did my naughty girl do some research after I played with her years ago?”

“I could keep you here like this all day. My good little whore presenting herself. I’d eat you for breakfast, torture you for lunch and then, when you were starved for it, I’d fuck you all through dinner and gift you my cum for dessert,”

“It isn’t about you blindly obeying my every command because you feel you have to. It’s about you giving me your trust, knowing that I arouse you and abuse you with my body, with my words and with my toys not to hurt you, but to own you so I can banish everything from your head—all the bad, all the worry and dread—and bring you peace.”

It felt like he was going to guide me to a place where I could learn to love myself.

I knew he was marking me, that I’d wear his love and ownership inked in the bruise for days afterwards. It was a dangerous badge of possession I would wear with pride, that I fucking loved because he did it out of madness, not logic, not as he usually did. In that way, it said he was as much mine as I was his.

I’ll be makin’ you sleep all night with one of my toys in your aching pussy so you feel me even in your dreams.”

“How was that, Rosie? You were such a gorgeous good girl for me.”

“Loved it,” I breathed then because it felt so fucking good to say, I added, “Love you.”

It was only Harleigh Rose I wanted with every multifaceted part of me. As a man elementally, powerfully could want a woman, to cherish her, guard her and plant his babies in her.

I obsessed with dominating every inch of her life. I wanted to bend her with my hands, break her into beautiful pieces with my cock and then glue her back together with my mouth. Cut through the thicket of dangerous thorns surrounding her gorgeous, one-of-a-kind heart, so that I could hold the tender, fragile bud in my hand and watch it grow. Dominate her mind, body and soul until every molecule of her person was imprinted with my name.

I wasn’t sure when it had happened, when I’d tipped over from a familial protector into the more dangerous role of forbidden lover, but it could have been the night she spied on me jacking off when she was sixteen. It was as if a flip switched in my bestial brain, and she was suddenly a woman, ripe with curves and sultry with sexual intent aimed at me.

But I was tired to my fucking soul and having Harleigh Rose suddenly in my life blazing like a comet across my dark universe, the creeping doubt that I wasn’t living the life I wanted to live came rushing back. I wanted to be free.