Urban Bad Boys Erotic Bundle

By Aaliyah Jackson

These urban bad boys take what they want in this explicit collection:

My Boyfriend The Felon

Jamal's locked up again, and Gina is about sick to death of how much time he's spending behind bars. She's tempted to never talk to him again, but she finds herself unable to let go. When Jamal asks her for a conjugal visit, she knows she should just say no... but her body is telling her yes. Being fucked in a prison with guards watching was something she never thought she would do, but Jamal has a way of making her do things good girls don't do, and she finds herself giving in and loving every sinful second of it...

How Do You Want It?

When Tamika is confronted by her violent ex-boyfriend Malik, she feels like there's no way out. With no family or friends to turn to, she's completely at his mercy and in the hood people just look away when he abuses her.

Until one day, a man doesn't look away, and comes to her rescue, breaking her up with Malik at gunpoint. Yet the hung black stud isn't exactly an angel himself, and even though he would never hurt a woman, he definitely loves to sexually dominate his new toy, Tamika. Will she just be creating new problems for herself as she allows him to take her rough, unprotected, and without pulling out?

My Secret White Baby

Nikki's boyfriend Jordan is taking her for granted in a real way - she's lucky if she can get a word out of him, let alone some love and affection. So when her girl comes to visit, why shouldn't she hit up the club?  Her innocent intentions don't mean much when Jake, the owner of the club, spots her on the dance-floor and decides he likes what he sees. Nikki has no plans to cheat, that is, until she gets a text from her friend with a picture of Jordan getting into some ho's car. A night of drunken, unprotected passion in the VIP is just the start for Nikki though, when a few weeks later she takes a pregnancy test only to find out that's pregnant with Jake's baby!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erotic Bundles
• Release date: Nov 13, 2019

Book preview

Jackson

M

y MC Boyfriend: The Conjugal Visit

Aaliyah Jackson

I didn’t want to answer but the damn phone kept ringing. Pushed from sleep by the phone’s non-stop beeping, I rolled over in bed and slapped at the night table, eventually working the phone into my hand.

Hello? I could barely talk, sleep gunking up my throat.

Christy, I need to talk.

Jax, what the hell, I said. The red numbers on the clock said 3:56. My momma always said nothing good happens after two am and damn if she wasn’t right. You know I don’t booty call after midnight. Shit, I’ve got work in the morning. I can’t just go around spreading my legs every time you get hard.

I didn’t call for sex... Jax said. A soft, fragile note in his voice made me sit up in bed. I clicked on the bedside lamp, heart thumping hard enough to break a rib.

What, I said. What is it?

I’m in jail. I don’t have a lot of time to talk, they’re only giving me a minute for my one call...

Shit! I slammed my head back against the headboard. What did you do now? The nervous energy of frustration pulled my finger up to my hair, working little ringlets as Jax took a deep breath through the line.

Big Red needed a car. His grandma is sick. She might die soon and he wanted to go visit...

You jacked another car?! Even in the relative dark of the room, I could see the heat glowing from my skin. How many times have we done this, Jax? If we’re going to work, then you have to get your shit together. We got you that job, we got you off coke, I swear to God your motorcycle club keeps pulling you back in. Good people don’t go around jacking cars for their buddy’s sick grandma!

Just... Even through the phone, Jax’s voice sounded small, distant. Could you come pick me up?

I lifted my bed sheet and looked down. Shit Jax, I’m not even dressed. I’ve got my tits hanging out and I haven’t showered since yesterday morning and you want me to drive halfway across the damn town because you decided to act a damn fool again?

Please, Christy, Jax said. Please. I promise—

Whatever Jax planned on promising, he didn’t have the chance. The harsh plastic rustle of the phone being shifted prickled my ear and another voice came on the line.

That’s all the time Prisoner Simmons has for his phone call. Good evening.  The cop slammed the receiver like a gunshot in my ear.

Shit. I threw the phone across the room, instantly regretting it as the plastic case exploded against my dresser. Blood boiled in my face. My deep, chest-filling breaths, didn’t seem to draw any oxygen. Head spinning, my finger went back to that lock of hair, twirling like mad. I squeezed my eyes tight against the darkness, trying to push Jax out of my mind. Why did I have to be in love with such a thug?

I opened my eyes, after-vision of swirling shapes flying l through my bedroom. I threw aside the covers with a sigh and started dressing.

I spent the whole damn drive to the precinct tugging at the band of my sports bra. Whatever man invented the sports bra probably never saw a pair of tits in his whole damn life. Not a pair as gorgeous as mine, anyway. Stuffing in luscious C’s is like trying to iron the Rocky Mountains. No matter which way I pulled the bra, it cut against my skin. But in a hurry, what other choice did I have? I tossed on a sports bra, t-shirt and cotton shorts as I stormed from my apartment, thinking they should sew a motto into every damn sports bra: For when you want to be just classy enough not to show everyone your nipples.

For better or worse, I knew well the way to the precinct. Even with my underwear battles I pulled into the lot as my dash clock blipped over to 4:13. I tugged open the precinct door trying to come up with decent late excuses for work. It’d been awhile since I embarrassed my boss into giving me sick time by lamenting my lady problems.

You must be here for Mr. Simmons?

I looked up to see a uniform cop leaning elbows to the high reception desk before me. Leaning forward and squinting, I managed to make out Johnson etched on his badge. The slight smile crinkling Johnson’s bulldog cheeks put a chill down my spine.

Yes, I’m here to bail Jax’s stupid ass out.

Johnson stood up straight and shook his head. Sorry, no can do, m’am. Prisoner Simmons was booked for his third felony and, by law, must remain in jail until his trial. He was told to tell you that on the phone.

What the...? It seemed the ground turned to jelly under my feet. I had to lean onto the desk to keep from falling. Three felonies?

Johnson, taking his sweet time, swiped a clipboard from behind the desk and leafed its pages. Well we have tonight’s grand theft auto. Prisoner Simmons’ report also shows possession with intent to sell and drunk driving. He flopped the pages back to the clipboard and threw it to the desk. Three strikes and you’re out, Mrs. Simmons.

I bit my lip. My name is Christy Templeton. I am not Mrs. Simmons. I’d thought maybe I would be but now I’m not so sure. I took a deep breath and the ground seemed to calm beneath me, no longer a raging sea but gentle waves. So tell me, Officer Johnson, what do I do?

Johnson shrugged. Right now, nothing. We’ll transfer him to the county pen in the morning where he’ll stay until his trial date.

I craned my neck around Johnson’s donut-built frame to look down the precinct hallway. Nothing but concrete block walls, closed doors and halogen lamps. Can I at least see him?

‘Fraid not, Johnson shook his head. Visiting hours don’t open until 10 am, and anyway, visitors are restricted for third-strike prisoners.

My mouth fell open. So...

Johnson nodded to the door behind me. We’ll call you, Ms. Templeton.

I turned and stormed out of the precinct, tugging at the damn sports bra. I knew I should have just let the phone ring.

For three days, every phone call made me jump clear out of my panties. The phone would buzz and my heart would thump, thump, thump until I saw it was just the power company or my Aunt Janine wanting to yap. The bubbling mix of emotions while I waited stung like disappointment but melted through my guts like love. Think of it this way: you spend months and months lovingly re-building an old junker of a car. Everything finished but the last coat of paint, you take it out for a spin only to have the engine sputter and die. You still love the damn car—it’s yours—but the disappointment, hard work undone in a moment, makes you want to smash the damn thing with a baseball bat. Does that make sense?

When Jax finally did call that Saturday, I wanted to hug him and smash him over the head with a baseball bat at the same time.

Hey baby.

Don’t you ‘hey baby’ me, I said. This isn’t some fucking chit chat.

I’m sorry, Jax replied. The deep reverberation in his voice indicated he probably meant it, too. Please just come visit me. They said you can come today.

Today? I looked at the closed paperback on my coffee table—big barrel-chested dude showing his nipple on the cover—and tried to pretend it was the most important thing in the world. Jax I’ve got shit to do today. You can’t just call and expect me to drop everything. Especially after you’ve let me down by fooling out with Big Red again.

Jax sighed. I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, they just told me and if it’s not today then I have to wait until next week. Don’t make me wait, baby.

I wanted to tell him how