The F King: A Bad Boy Romance (Still a Bad Boy Book 3) Read online

  The F King: A Bad Boy Romance

  (Still a Bad Boy #3) Limited Edition Includes Submission Specialist (Still a Bad Boy #2) and Bonus Read (Still a Bad Boy #2.5)

  Ada Scott

  Ada Scott

  Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright and Notes

  Acknowledgments

  The F King: A Bad Boy Romance

  1. Sarina

  2. Ryan

  3. Sarina

  4. Ryan

  5. Sarina

  6. Ryan

  7. Sarina

  8. Sarina

  9. Ryan

  10. Ryan

  11. Sarina

  12. Sarina

  13. Ryan

  14. Sarina

  15. Sarina

  16. Ryan

  17. Sarina

  18. Ryan

  19. Ryan

  20. Sarina

  21. Sarina

  22. Ryan

  23. Sarina

  24. Ryan

  25. Ryan

  26. Sarina

  27. Ryan

  28. Sarina

  29. Ryan

  30. Sarina

  31. Ryan

  32. Sarina

  Submission Specialist: A Bad Boy Romance

  1. Skylar

  2. Skylar

  3. Austin

  4. Austin

  5. Austin

  6. Skylar

  7. Skylar

  8. Austin

  9. Skylar

  10. Skylar

  11. Austin

  12. Skylar

  13. Austin

  14. Skylar

  15. Skylar

  16. Skylar

  17. Austin

  18. Skylar

  19. Skylar

  20. Austin

  21. Skylar

  22. Skylar

  23. Austin

  24. Austin

  25. Austin

  26. Skylar

  27. Austin

  28. Skylar

  29. Skylar

  Submission Specialist Bonus

  1. Skylar

  2. Austin

  Get MORE from Ada Scott

  About the Author

  A former office drone, a former nurse, I now spend every waking moment doing what I love, creating and publishing these steamy stories about bad boys from the mafia, motorcycle clubs, and mma that make me, and hopefully you, weak at the knees! Anywhere a bad boy can be found, I'll be there taking notes and making it even sexier :)

  Connect with Ada Online

  adascottauthor

  adascott.com/free-bad-boy-romance-download/

  [email protected]

  The F King: A Bad Boy Romance (Still a Bad Boy #3)

  Ada Scott

  Published by Ada Scott

  Copyright 2016 Ada Scott

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  All characters and events are entirely fictional and any resemblances to persons living or dead and circumstances are purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Cover Design: Kevin McGrath

  http://www.kevindoesart.com/

  The F King: A Bad Boy Romance

  Still a Bad Boy #3

  Note: This is a special limited edition of The F King (Still a Bad Boy #3). It also includes Submission Specialist (Still a Bad Boy #2) AND a bonus read (Still a Bad Boy #2.5) completely free of charge.

  If you haven’t read #2 or #2.5 before, by all means head back to the Table of Contents and read them first before enjoying The F King.

  All the best!

  ~Ada Scott

  Sarina

  The other girls had fake IDs that made them a few years older. Mine made me a few years younger, and was issued by the United States Government itself.

  “How old are you?” asked the bouncer.

  “Twenty-two,” I said with a winning smile.

  It was such a strange feeling, knowing that everything coming out of my mouth was a lie or, at least, in service of a grand all-encompassing lie. That would take some getting used to.

  I could see the bouncer counting the years in his head, making sure my answer matched the date on my driver’s license, before glancing at the rest of my hastily-formed posse for the night. He held my ID out to me.

  “Not freshmen?”

  “No.” I drew the word out with slight indignation.

  “Alright, have a good time.”

  The bouncer stood aside, and I ushered everybody through, making sure I obstructed his view of Millie, the most baby-faced of the bunch. Getting a group of eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls into a club was only the first little egg I was going to have to break in this undercover omelet, because it would have looked suspicious for me to turn up in a club and wait alone for my target.

  Janice opened a door and the higher tones of music and partying joined the steady rhythm of bass that you could hear and feel for a block down the street. As far as any of these girls knew, this was a “Chicks-before-dicks, ice-breaker night,” where a few of us from the dorm could get to know each other and have some fun.

  “Wooooooo!” squealed Janice, throwing her hands in the air and starting to dance before she even hit the dancefloor.

  “I can’t believe it worked!” said Millie, grabbing my arm and bouncing. “I only just got this ID before I left home.”

  “First round on me, what are you having?”

  “Um, Tropical Painkiller! You sure, though? I mean... you don’t have to, we just met-”

  “Course I’m sure! Believe me, you’re getting the next round,” I laughed. “Tell the others they’re having some Tropical Painkillers and claim a spot so I can tell them where to bring the drinks!”

  “OK! Omigod, this year is gonna rock!”

  Millie walked, almost skipped, to join Janice and the others on the dancefloor. I had to admit, their enthusiasm was pretty infectious, and my smile was real as I navigated my way to the bar, looking out for the real life version of the man whose picture I had memorized.

  Ryan Crewe was known to frequent this club, but there was no telling what nights he was going to be here. I was either going to have to build a reputation for putting my partying ahead of my studies, wait for better intelligence from my Commanding Officer on some other locations, or come up with something else.

  No sign of him yet, but there were a lot of dimly lit nooks and crannies to this club that I’d have to casually search between going to the table, the dancefloor, the restroom and any other excuse I could think of. In the field at last.

  It was a hell of a first undercover assignment. This was no infiltration of the agriculture students’ special hydroponics experiment. I was the spearhead of an operation to get a handle on F, the new drug that was taking the country by storm, and its variants.

  Ryan was one of very few people we knew to be actively selling the drug. Rather than just arrest him and take one more low-level dealer off the streets, we could use him for information and work our way right to the top of the supply chain.

  My CO said it was a testament to my reputation and my work ethic that I was given this job. Get the information we needed, and it would be like rocket fuel for my career.

  As I arrived at the bar, I tr
ied to stop my heart from leaping at the thought. I was a long way away from the payoff, from reaping the rewards of all that hard work I put in at college instead of going out and partying like this undercover persona.

  The bartender worked with some flair, not quite putting on a show but impressive nonetheless, and soon came to me. He pointed at me and held his hand up to his ear as he leaned close.

  “Six Tropical Painkillers!” I yelled over the music.

  With a quick upward jerk of his head, he lined six glasses up and started doing his thing again. I pushed myself up on the bar and looked back until I saw Millie waving at me from a booth on the other side, where she and the others were dropping handbags and taking off jackets.

  I turned back to the bartender and caught his eye. “Can I get these brought to our table?”

  “What’s the table number?”

  “Huh?”

  “What’s the table number?”

  “Oh… I’m not sure… uh…” I turned away again for a second. “It’s that booth over there, third from the right?”

  “OK. Fifteen. Seventy-two bucks, thanks.”

  I handed over my card and slipped a note in the tip jar. After retrieving my card, I was just about to take the long way around to table fifteen when I had an idea. I turned back to the bar, leaning on it and accidentally-on-purpose folding my arms under my breasts to push them together, trying to get the bartender’s attention again.

  He was just about to serve somebody else when gravity momentarily dragged his eyes down before he wrestled them up again.

  “Something else?” he asked.

  “Hey, are there any jobs going here?”

  He stepped back, tore a sheet off a pad sitting on top of a display fridge, and handed it to me. “You’ll have to fill out an application and attach your résumé, but there’s a long waiting list.”

  “OK, thanks.”

  I gave myself a mental pat on the back. If I could get a job here, that would give me a great excuse to be here, whether I could find a group of cover-friends or not.

  Taking the long way back to our table let me glance into a few more places I hadn’t checked yet, but I didn’t spot Ryan. I arrived at the booth at the same time as the fruity drinks, and the cheer that went up was almost as loud as the music.

  We raised our glasses and clinked them together before taking our first taste. Millie gulped hers like it was water.

  “Hooo-boy,” I breathed, surprised at how strong it was.

  Sally let out a textbook-Texas “Yeehaw!” and yelled “Dance, bitches!”

  Hands were grabbed and I was led to the dancefloor in a chaotic jumble of short skirts and low cut tops. Not that I was dressed any differently, of course. I was here to catch somebody’s eye, after all.

  One round of drinks blurred into others as the six of us danced the night away and I did my best to balance my party-girl persona with keeping focused on my responsibilities. The music and the drinks were intoxicating in more ways than one. It felt good to loosen up for once, even if it was all a lie.

  Frustratingly often, guys would try to dance against me and I had to move around the group, using the other girls as willing human shields. Good time or not, I had a job to do.

  Despite the stated “chicks-before-dicks” intentions of the night, after a few hours Millie and Janice had each latched on to some college guys. I was beginning to silently scold myself for just how far I had allowed myself to jump the gun earlier, thinking about the stepping stone this was for my career before I’d even been in the same room as Ryan. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the face I’d studied until I saw it in my dreams. I wasn’t the only one who noticed him, either.

  As he skirted the dancefloor, girls did double-takes, then tried to look nonchalant as their dance styles went from hip-hop to stripper. Men came out of the woodwork to shake his hand, as if paying some kind of tribute. He glided through the club with some friends in his own little bubble, and drew my eye even more than he should have.

  Tall, dark and classically handsome, in my objective and purely professional opinion, he filled his suit in all the right ways and moved with an air of ultimate self-assurance. A hostess cleared away a “Reserved” sign from a table in a booth and Ryan’s group settled in.

  My heart was pounding so hard that it was that hectic rhythm rather than the music that snapped me out of my reverie and made me aware that I had basically stopped dancing. I hastily found my groove again and tried to dial back the speed on my whirling mind.

  All the training, all the waiting, it was all going to be put to the test tonight after all. Ryan Crewe was here… and I had to get his attention.

  Ryan

  It wasn’t easy to keep a straight face the first time I heard a rumor about myself, told to me in excited whispers. They called me The F King, a mad scientist type making this “good shit” for the Mafia, or one of the street gangs, they didn’t know which.

  Apparently, the criminal underworld hired him to kill people with untraceable poisons, and nobody dared fuck with him. I smiled and nodded, and told them it was all true, I had a source of F, a guy who knew a guy and so on, and he told me the exact same things.

  Then I sold them some F, took their money, and partied my brains out. I wasn’t quite as paranoid about keeping a low profile now as I was in my college days. Back then, I officially studied Engineering, but really used a friend’s ID to get access to the Chemistry labs and materials.

  Yet I still wasn’t ready to publically claim my own throne, tempting though it was.

  Next year. That’s when the Acardi Crime Family would eat their words, if their jaws were still attached to their heads. Then everybody would know who the fuck The F King was, and realize that there’s really no limit to what I can make in my lab with enough funds. The city of Highston would be mine.

  Until then, being the only guy in town who wasn’t in a gang and wasn’t obviously in the local crime family was almost as good. I was approachable in a way those fuckers weren’t.

  Everybody who wanted the best shit, but was too scared to buy from a gang, came to me. In a city full of college students, there were a lot of customers like that. A lot.

  The guys had money and the girls, oh sweet holy fuck what the girls had. The things they’d do for F, the things they’d do when they saw the respect everybody gave me, just wanting to be near me and bask in the reflected glory.

  I’d lost count of all the pussy I’d had. Two or three in one night? Sure. Five at once one time, straight girls went down on each other just because I told them to. Anything for the king.

  Money and power, it was an easy lifestyle to get used to. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had to fuck the same girl twice. How could I deny myself the pleasure of hearing my name screamed by a new voice?

  Tonight, though, the cards seemed stacked against me. Every chick who came and sat in the booth with my friends and me, I already knew what they looked like with my cock in them. Boring. Bree was throwing herself at me particularly hard.

  Things were usually pretty exciting around this time of year, though. A fresh batch of college students bolstered Highston’s population, and once they got past those on-campus orientation parties, plenty of them started hitting the town. That would start happening in a week or two, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

  I was just about to resign myself to the reality of going home with Bree again, when a breath of fresh air walked past our table. Her clothes said “look at me” but her face was pure innocence.

  From the moment I saw her approaching, I had images of her pinned under me, begging me to fuck her harder, harder, harder. I could make that girl sing in bed.

  Her sleek, dark hair shimmered like liquid in the strobe lights. Before she was past, on her way to the dancefloor, I saw she had the kind of bright blue eyes normally reserved for the Nordic-blonde type.

  That electric blue was my favorite,
that flash of color you could see through their half-closed eyelids as they came hard, or when I was about to cum right on their faces, and they were afraid of getting shot in the eye, but they needed to see the big moment anyway. Fuck yes.

  Combined with the contrast of darker hair, it was an intoxicating mixture. And that body. Her ass twitched with every step and the intriguing upper swells of her breasts faintly quivered to the same tempo while showing off their youthful firmness.

  She kept her eyes trained straight ahead as she walked past. I watched her closely, brushing Bree out of my line of sight with annoyance when she hee-hawed herself in the way, laughing at some joke my friend said. Was she going to look at me? Was she?

  There. That one glance straight into my eyes betrayed her as she stepped on to the dancefloor. The fucking game was on.

  I knocked back the rest of my drink and slammed it down on the table. “I’m going for a dance.”

  “At last!” said Bree, standing with me.

  I leaned in. “No. Not tonight. Listen, Mike over there, yeah, the funny one, he’s had a hell of a day. I’d be really grateful if there was anything you could do to make him feel better. It’d be a personal favor to me, you understand?”

  “Mike?” she said without much enthusiasm.

  “It’d mean a lot. Here, this is the last gram I’ve got on me. No charge.”

  I pulled the little baggie of F out of my pocket and discreetly held it out to her. She reached for it straight away, but I closed my fist over it.

  “OK, OK,” she said.

  I thought I caught her looking wistfully at me out of the corner of my eye, but she was Mike’s problem now. A bullet dodged as far as I was concerned, and hot new pussy to be had.

  Blue-eyed innocence was dancing with a small group of freshmen-looking girls, all of whom I’d be happy to put on the list after I had my way with their hottest friend. Such a good time of year.