The Bad Ones by Stylo Fantôme
A modern day Bonnie and Clyde with a side of Wild Things; that was Dulcie and Con. They drifted towards each other because of this darkness they craved, completing each other. And the sex was angry and harsh. This was not a sweet New Adult romance.
If you’ve read Stylo’s Kane trilogy, there are some definite similarities in tone and how the heroine grows harder and stronger without the hero around all the time. There were things I wasn’t expecting in the plot to unfold how they did, and the ending before the epilogue . . . holy hell.
One word. INTENSE. This story was insane, but that is just how I like them. Dulcie is fighting demons she doesn't even know she has and Con is as crazy as they come. The two of them feel invincible when they are together. They are explosive and their relationship is volatile. But damn, it makes for some hot, explosive sex. There is violence and suspense but also so much raw emotion. The story was fast paced and a page turner. I didn't put it down. Well done, Stylo.
Now, yesterday, tomorrow. Whenever.
You get that, right?”
Other Stories by Stylo Fantôme
Con finally unlocked the doors and she hefted herself into the massive vehicle. They sat in silence for a while, their breath fogging up the glass. Then he opened his mouth.
“Did he touch you?”
Dulcie knew he wasn’t asking about the homeless man.
“Not in any way that counts,” she replied, turning to look at him. His hands had moved to grip
the steering wheel.
“So he has touched you.”
“Jared was just an experiment, I wanted to see if -”
“You let him fucking touch you.”
“You fucking left me!” she was suddenly screaming. He didn’t even flinch, just gripped the steering wheel harder. “You fucking left me in this fucking town, without a goddamn goodbye! Without a goddamn word! God, you have no idea what it’s been like. That fucking camera, all those drawings. And there’s all these people, and talking, and feeling this way, and all the blackness, and I don’t even know what’s wrong with me, and nothing. You come back, and it’s like nothing to you. Oh hey, Dulcie. Where’s your sketchbook, Dulcie. Come to a party, Dulcie. Let me just fuck this chick in the woods, Dulcie. So you know what? Yeah, he fucking touched me. I let him fucking touch me. And I hated every minute of it, and I would pretend it was you, and I would hate you, and I would hate myself, and I just let it happen.”
Con lunged across the seat, and absurdly, her first thought was “wow, he’s really fast” before his fingers wrapped around her throat. She wasn’t fazed, though, and she pushed right back, slapping him across the face. This only caused him to clench both hands around her neck and he yanked her forward, dragging her to him so their faces were only inches apart.
“Stupid little Dulcie,” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. She held onto his wrists and glared at him, but didn’t try to pull away. His fingers got tighter. “So scared of the big bad wolf.”
“I’m not … scared of you,” she managed to gasp out, but then his grip grew so tight he completely cut off her oxygen.
“Of course you aren’t scared of me. I’m not the wolf. You are.”
So that’s what was hiding behind the curtain. I wish you’d told me sooner, Con. We could’ve reveled in our darkness together.
It felt like a weight was lifted off her back. She’d been pretending for so long, and she hadn’t even realized it. Had conditioned herself to do it. It was easier to believe Con was the darkness, and she was simply drawn to it. Basking in his wake. But it was all a lie – she was every bit as dark as him. They were the same animal. She’d just been better at deceiving herself. And now they’d evolved into something else, into a new, higher being. Her lungs were throbbing, screaming for oxygen. She could feel her pulse pounding behind her face. Her mouth was open, but she couldn’t make a sound. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, yet still they stared at each other. Recognizing each other, maybe for the first time ever.
Maybe for the last time.
What a way to die, looking into the face of this beautiful boy. What a gift.
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About the Author
Crazy woman living in an undisclosed location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since …, forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball – I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I’m clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there’s your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair – both a curse and a blessing – and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can’t understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.
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Love isn't always bright and shiny.
Sometimes, it's dirty and wrong, buried six feet deep in a secret place where only wild things dare to go. Hidden behind a big black curtain that covers things no one should ever see.
Sometimes it happens between two people who should never be allowed to come together. One who is a match, and the other who just happens to be gasoline.
One strike is all it takes to burn the whole world down, and that's exactly what they plan on doing.
Even if it kills them.
Warning: this book contains graphic sex, extremely brutal violence, bad language, and people repeatedly and knowingly breaking the law