Filthy Bastard by Madison Faye
Chapter One
Killian
My hand tightens, and my cock throbs. The lacy material of the tiny pink thong rubs up and down my length, and I growl like a fuckin’ animal. My balls ache for release and my teeth grind as I stroke my thickness with her panties.
Yeah, I’m a filthy bastard. Sue me.
To be fair, it’s not like this is an everyday thing for me. I’m not running around town stealing panties to jerk off with uncontrollably like a fuckin’ degenerate. I mean, yeah, you could make a strong case that I am a bit of a degenerate, but not typically this way, at least.
No, I’m just a filthy bastard.
The filthy part is my nickname with some of my brothers—again, not for my current situation of jerking my fat cock into a college girl’s pink thong. But because I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I’m the one you call when the shit has officially hit the fan—the guy that makes the mess go away when that mess is gonna land one of our own in jail.
The bastard part? Well, that’s ‘cause I am one—a Bastard, that is. Not in like in some stupid medieval way where my dad fucked a barmaid while his queen was away or some shit. I mean I’m a Bastard as in it’s the patch I wear.
I’m a Royal Bastard, Boston, Massachusetts chapter. But at the current moment? Well at the current moment, maybe I’m just a degenerate. But that ain’t my fault.
It’s hers.
I growl, picturing the sweet little body these panties were pulled tight against not ten minutes ago. Fuck, it’s almost like they’re still warm with the heat of her little pussy. I grunt, my cock throbbing at the thought, and when I hear the soft humming sound of a song from behind the closed bathroom door, my pulse quickens.
It’s almost time.
This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. No, I don’t mean the fuckin’ panties. I mean her. She’s not who I’ve come for tonight. In fact, she’s not even supposed to be here.
And yet, here we are.
Her name is Nicole Keen. She’s twenty-two, and a senior at Columbia University, majoring in pre-law and looking at Ivy League law schools for next fall. But more than that, she’s tall and lithe, with red hair that gets my blood roaring, blue eyes that make me lose my fucking mind, fair skin and freckles that make my balls swell with cum, and a body that sends me fucking reeling.
I’ve spent a month researching every fucking facet of my target—my real, planned target, that is. But the best damn part of that research was her—a long fucking month of biding my time, and watching, and learning, until I know her inside and out. A month of slowly becoming obsessed with her. And “obsessed” is what I am. Addicted, like a fuckin’ junky.
And there’s no cure for this.
Her name is Nicole Keen, and she’s pure, off limits temptation. And tonight, she’s all fucking mine.
She’s an innocent in all of this, but circumstances have made her front and center in this whole fucking thing. In another timeline, in a parallel universe, she stays an innocent bystander in this mess. In another version of this life, Nicole is just another—albeit gorgeous and impossibly sexy—college girl. She does her thing, goes to class, probably dates a shithead, and goes right on living without me or my ilk entering her world.
But this ain’t that version. This is the here and now, and here, tonight, the sins of the father land at her feet.
Like I said, it’s Leonard we’re really after. That’s her father, as in “Boston District Attorney Leonard Keen”—a weaselly little shit-stain of a man, if you can even call him that much. And I don’t.
Now, to be clear, me and mine aren’t exactly angels. The Royal Bastards are as rough, wild, and untamed as they come. Men with chips on their shoulders, a gun at their hip, and a fierce loyalty to patch, club, and brotherhood. We’re not into the shit some clubs are into—there’s no girls, for instance. None of that fucked up sexual slavery shit, or hookers, or any of that. Fuck that shit.
But like I said, we’re no saints. But the shit that Leonard’s putting on us after he decided to go to war with the Royal Bastards a year ago is bullshit. No, my brothers who are rotting in Walpole Correctional Facility or languishing in county waiting for bullshit trials are being fucked. Five members in the last year alone brought in on fucking lies has all but decimated our chapter, too. But that ends tonight.
See, Leo’s in the very, very deep pockets of the Boston Italian mob. Compared to those fuckers, we’re a blip on the damn radar. But we’ve been expanding business and enterprises, and it’s starting to rub those wannabe Goodfellas the wrong damn way. Problem is, when you rub some everyday shithead the wrong way, push comes to shove, you just need to beat him down. But this time, the Bastards have pissed off the wrong people, and now they’re coming for us, piece by piece, using a crooked county DA to lock us up for their own crimes.
The plan should have been easy—grab Leonard here at his condo, drag him off to a safe house, and beat the ever loving fuck out of him until he understands just how hazardous to his health it’s going to be if keeps dropping bullshit charges on my brothers. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…
And that leads us here, to her.
Like I said, this shit should have nothing to do with Nicole. But, tonight, it’s about to have everything to do with her. Part of it is circumstances—shitty intel, or a last-minute change of plans that has her here instead of her father. But a big part of it is me—me and my fucking obsession.
I was camped out on the roof, looking through the domed skylight of the luxury condo waiting for Leonard to make his appearance inside, when she walked in instead. Walked in, peeled her fucking clothes right off, got my cock harder than it’s ever fucking been, for anything, and then padded her way into the bathroom to run a shower. I could have walked away. I should have walked away. Obsession with this girl or not, she’s not the target here.
And yet here I am, inside the condo, listening to the sound of her humming away in the shower behind the closed bathroom door, and stroking my thick cock with her little pink panties.
Filthy Bastard, at your fucking service.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I growl as I stop just enough to pull it out and read the text. It’s from Lisa, my “girl on the inside” for tonight’s little operation to take Leonard. Normally, Leonard keeps himself locked up tight, because he knows the risks involved with fucking with us. He’s got his walled mansion in his gated community in the rich Boston suburbs, paid for by mob blood money, no doubt.
He’s also got a swank condo downtown. On paper, it’s a “business write-off,” and I’m guessing he’s told his wife it’s there for when he’s pulling late nights at work. I’ve been watching this little fuck for a month, and he almost exclusively uses it to fuck hookers.
Believe me, a weaselly little fuck like Leonard definitely has to pay for it.
The Bastards don’t run girls or anything like that, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have connections. I made calls, I asked around, and when I learned that Lisa was his regular Thursday night favorite, I stepped in. Lisa was behind on some rent and her kid needed new clothes and books for school, and the Royal Bastards single-working-mother charity fund was happy to step in and help, provided she give us a heads-up next time she was going to meet up with Leonard.
I frown as I glance at the text.
Sorry, he bailed tonight. I think his wife found out.
She’s about ten minutes too late on the text, though. Because here I am, inside, rock-hard, and wondering what the fuck I’m doing. I know I need to walk away, right fucking now. But my obsession and my addiction won’t allow that. The proximate to the girl who’s captivated me entirely has me twisted up and grinding my teeth.
…Her being naked and wet behind only a door I’m confident I could knock right off its hinges has my balls swelling with cum and my cock throbbing hard.
The soft sound of her humming from the shower drifts over my ears, and I growl. My cock thickens, my balls tighten, and I hiss as I close my eyes and imagine her perfect little curvy ass bouncing on my lap, sinking down every fucking inch of my cock until she’s creaming all over me.
It’s not supposed to be her here, but here she is, and here I am, and there goes any semblance of my self-control. And yeah, it’s not like emptying my balls in her panties was exactly part of the plan either. But when I watched her peel her clothes off, the beast inside of me awoke. When I slipped in here after she stepped into her shower and saw them lying on the pile of clothes by the bathroom door, it just fucking ignited something in me. It fed the hunger boiling inside, and one look and I knew there was no stopping that beast inside of me from taking over.
My muscles clench, my pulse thunders, and I drop my head back as the pleasure explodes through me. With a growl, my cock throbs, and suddenly, I’m coming. I grunt, my abs clenched tight as I blast rope after rope of thick, hot cum into her naughty little panties. I groan, looking down and grinning at the sticky mess filling her little thong—so fucking obscene and wrong, but it can’t be helped.
My addiction to her can’t be helped. My obsession won’t be.
I grunt, stroking one last thick spurt of hot cum across the lacy pink panties before I take a breath. The shower turns off behind the closed bathroom door, and I stiffen.
What the fuck am I doing?
I ball up the panties and stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans. I tuck my cock back into them, growling and struggling to zip back up, because, well, I’m still rock fucking hard for her. Like I said, I’ve been watching Nicole for a damn month now, and my obsession knows no bounds. And the thought of her stepping wet and naked from the shower, water dripping down her tight little body, has me staying hard as stone and hungry for more.
Jeans tented obscenely, her messy panties in my back pocket, I move quietly to the front door. But the second I get there, I stiffen.
Shit.
I glance through the peephole, and my jaw grinds.
Double shit.
Leonard’s neighbor across the hallway is having a fucking dinner party or some shit. The middle-aged fuck has the door wide open, and about twenty other polo-shirt and sweater-vest-wearing rich guys milling around in and out of the condo. Leaving this way right now is going to mean all hell breaking loose, and I can’t allow that.
Also, this is the only way out.
Fuck.
In the bathroom, the hairdryer turns off, and my muscles tense. The doorknob twists, and I move without even thinking, lunging back across the condo and sliding into the little bar alcove next to the bathroom door. The door opens, swinging out and towards where I’m hidden next to it. And then there she is, and I swear to God, I could come again right fucking now.
It’s her ass my eyes land on first—bare, porcelain globes of pure fucking heaven, dripping with water droplets. My eyes slide down over her long, slender legs, and over those hips that beg to be grabbed.
The toned back, with the smatter of freckles, the long, still half-wet red hair. The towel loose and held in front of her as she pads across the hardwood floor towards the bedroom. Once she’s in there, I can try the fire escape out the window, and then get the fuck out of here before I blow this whole plan to kingdom come.
But fuck me, that tight little ass is just fucking mesmerizing as she walks. My breath catches. My cock aches for release, throbbing against my jeans, and my jaw grinds so fucking hard I wonder if she hears it. And then, as if she does, or as if she can sense my eyes on her, she freezes, tensing. She starts to turn, and I know I’ve got approximately one second before all hell breaks loose.
Yeah, this is happening. And so, I move, come what may.
Nicole turns, and her eyes go wide as she spots my huge frame lunging for her from behind the door. She freezes, clutching the towel to her front as she opens her mouth wide to scream bloody fucking murder.
But I’m there before she can, and instead, that scream bellows into my hand. My arm wraps tight around her, and I growl as I lift her up. I grunt as her knee catches me in the gut, wincing and snarling and half stumbling into the open bedroom. Right inside, I spot the stack of neatly folded clothes on the bed, and still holding the twisting, writhing, hissing little wildcat in my arms, I snatch the pair of nicely folded black panties from the top. Before she can kick me again, I stuff them unceremoniously into her mouth.
Sorry, princess.
She hooks a knee into me again, and I grunt as I whip us around and go stumbling out through the bedroom door again. She screams into my hand, and that fucking knee of hers slams dangerously close to my balls, sending me crashing over and onto the couch on top of her. I try to remind myself that this isn’t what my cock thinks it is, but there’s no stopping the fat bulge from swelling in my pants. I mean, I’ve got soft, supple, squirming female flesh rolling under my hands, and the fire ignites inside of me.
She’s just got a towel between us, barely, barely covering her nudity, and when I flip her over onto her front, I growl at the sight of her bare, pert little ass. She squirms and bucks against me, but fuck me, when she shoves her hips back, her pretty little thighs open just enough to give me the briefest flash of bare, pink pussy, I fucking snarl before she clamps them back together.
Keep your shit together.
This is business. This is a job, and it needs to get done, right now. It may have been Leonard that I was supposed to grab tonight, but plans have changed.
I pin her down, using the zip-tie from my pocket meant for her father to tie her wrists. Her ankles are next, even though I catch a foot to the face for my trouble first. The bandana from my belt is next, wrapped around her head to keep the panties acting as a gag firmly in her mouth.
I should be losing my shit, especially with this gorgeous creature writhing and squirming beneath me. But not me. I’m calm, methodical. I wrap the towel around her and tug it tight, and she screams again as I lift her up and toss her over my broad shoulder.
Here goes fucking nothing.
I grab her phone and purse from a side table and storm over to the door and glare out of the peephole. Across the hall, the door is now closed, thank fucking God. I open Leonard’s door and poke my head out of the door into the hall, seeing that the coast is clear before I step out. I carry my thrashing little wildcat of a captive down the hall to the maintenance room, and the cargo elevator beyond that. The car is downstairs in the garage, fueled up and ready to go.
The plan stays. I’ve just changed it up a little.
Or a whole fucking lot.
We step in, and I take a deep breath as the doors close, trying to calm the beast inside of me that roars at the feel of her bare skin and tight little curvy body writhing and grinding against my shoulder. The doors open to the parking garage, and I poke my head out to take a look.
Empty.
I’m a bike man through and through, but for this, I’ve brought the Charger. I move fast, my cock still so fucking hard and tenting my jeans as she tries to fight me. At the car, I pop the trunk and then set her down on her bare feet, pinning her to the side of the car with one hand on her hip, the other on her neck—not squeezing, but just there as I look her right in the eyes.
Fuck.
Yeah, that was a mistake. Because one look in those baby blue pools, and I just want her—right here, right now, come what may. I want to crush my lips to hers, and spread those legs, and rip that towel away. I want to sink my tongue in her little cunt and drink down every single drop before I let her slide down on my cock.
She glares right back at me, looking terrified, but also looking so fierce and furious.
“Listen to me,” I growl. Her eyes narrow in fury at me, and I grin. Shit I like that—that she might be scared, but is still ready to tear my fucking head off.
“We can do this two ways. You can sit in the car like a normal person and keep quiet while we drive out, or if you don’t think you can handle that, there’s always…”
I gesture with my eyes at the open trunk, and Nicole’s eyes narrow.
“Fnnngruu!!!”
I almost laugh. Yeah, that’s definitely her saying “fuck you” through the panty-gag.
“I’m not here to hurt you, sweetheart,” I growl. “But you are coming with me.”
“Fnnngruuuufnngingprshshhhhttt!!!” She roars as she lunges forward, headfirst. I hiss as she catches me right in the fucking nose with the top of her head, wincing at the hit and snarling as I shove her back.
“Right, so trunk it is.”
She kicks and squirms and writhes, but she’s no match for me. I’ve got easily a foot on her, and probably a hundred pounds of muscle. Deftly, heedless of her muffled screams and kicks, I lay her down into the trunk and close it. I take a step back, breathing heavily, my pulse racing.
…My cock still so fucking hard it could tear a hole in my jeans right now.
But the bottom line is, I’ve got her.
And now, she’s mine.
