Step Bride:A Bad Boy Mob RomanceBy: B. B. Hamel
I went to college to get away from drama.
But in Vegas, with my mom’s new crazy antics swirling in my mind, I was ready for a little trouble. I must have lost my mind.
Because when I saw him, I knew what sort of trouble I was about to get into.
Cocky and muscular, wearing an expensive suit, he swept right into my life like a hurricane. In the back of his limo, right before making the dumbest decision of my life, I felt his breath hot against my neck.
I want to see you wearing only diamonds, he whispered.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Did that line work on other girls?
It’s not a line. I want to taste that soaking pussy while you’re wearing millions.
Sex and money. Was that all he thought about?
Sex, money, and violence, girl. Get used to it.
His fingers roamed down along my body, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I gasped when his lips found my throat, his rough hands along my thighs. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the excitement of all the wealth, but I couldn’t help myself.
Truthfully, it was just him. His cocky smile, his body, his lips.
I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to explore me.
He pressed my legs open, almost roughly, his hands suddenly on my soaking pussy.
I knew you were begging for it, he whispered in my ear.
His fingers did things I’d never, ever forget. My hands pressed against the glass of the limo, sweat rolling down my back, I bit my lip and stared into his eyes.
Good, girl. Watch while I get you off. I want to see your pretty face say my name.
He had me. In that moment, he had me completely.
“Lucas,” I said, over and over.
His wicked grin. So violent. So damn sexy.
I’d never forget that smile, even when it started to mean something completely different.
Chapter One: Natalie
I never wanted to be famous.
But when your mother inherits a fortune, loses it over the course of a few years, and then goes on a string of awful reality TV shows, it’s hard to avoid the cameras, at least to some degree.
Truthfully, I’m not famous, not really. My mother, on the other hand, is a minor celebrity and appears in gossip rags pretty regularly. Headlines like “Socialite Mother Snorts Coke for Days” or “Camille Taylor Seen Stripping for Cash” were not unusual. Sure, most of it was bull, but still, it was not exactly healthy trying to grow up a normal teenager when your mom was out running around all the time.
Which was why I got out of her house as soon as humanly possible. I got accepted into the University of Texas, packed my bags, and tried to pretend like I had never lived in Chicago and had never heard of Camille Taylor.
The thing about the past, though, is you can never escape it. Especially when it’s your mom.
“Don’t let it ruin your trip,” Pacey said.
“I’m not,” I grumbled, tossing the magazine across the room.
“Come on, look outside.” She walked over to the window and opened the curtains. “We’re in freaking Vegas!”
I sighed, nodding. The school year had just ended, and Pacey and I had decided we were going to treat ourselves for getting through another brutal semester.
Really, neither of us wanted to go home. Pacey didn’t get along well with her dad, and I intensely disliked my mother. So instead of heading right back to another rough summer of being trapped in our respective parental homes, we’d decided on a few days of debauchery.
Although debauchery wasn’t really my thing. I never thought I’d end up in Vegas, let alone dressed up in one of the sexiest dresses I owned. The plan was to hit the strip, maybe go to a casino and see where the night took us.
Instead, I had to be an idiot and buy a gossip rag. I knew I might find something about my mother in there, and I knew that might ruin my good mood, but I did it anyway.