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 ROUGH STUFF
DIRTY BAD THINGS: BOOK 3
MADISON FAYE
 Contents

Free Books Offer

Author’s Note
Blurb
Prologue

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16

Epilogue
Keep Reading!
Mailing List
Sneak Peek: Hard Core
Hard Core
Chapter 1

Sneak Peek: Pretty Dirty

Pretty Dirty
Chapter 1

Also by Madison Faye

About the Author
Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2018 Madison Faye
Cover: Coverlüv
Photography: Darren Birks
 FREE BOOKS OFFER

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 AUTHOR’S NOTE

Okay, no spoilers, but there’s a plot point in the beginning of this

story that might ruffle some feathers. Just remember, there’s no
cheating in any my books. So you’ve just gotta trust me here, okay?
;)
While technically “book 3” in a series, this book and the others in the
Dirty Bad Things series can be read in any order.
This book is exclusively available on Amazon.com. If you are
purchasing this book from another platform, it is a pirated version! :(
Thanks so much for your support!
<3,
Madison
 BLURB

We were supposed to be strangers. It was supposed to be a

one-time thing.
Now the mob wants me to be her bodyguard, and make sure
no one touches her.
…Oops.
The Marines taught me to fight and to be a man. But life as an
enforcer for the mob taught me to get my hands dirty. There’s no
job too rough for me. That is, until I meet the new assignment.
Fiery red hair, sweet curves that that melt me, and a sass that
makes my blood run hot. I’m supposed to be Quinn’s bodyguard.
The only problem?
We’ve met before.
Oh, we’ve met alright – one night, no names, nothing held back,
when I claimed her as my own. Rough, hard – exactly how she
wanted it. Her hair wrapped around my fist and her moans etched
across my brain.
My boss, the vicious head of the Moretti crime family, thinks she’s
his. He thinks he can lock her away in some tower like a little bird in
a glass cage and claim her as his own.
He’s about to learn how wrong he is.
Because Quinn might be beholden to him, but she belongs to me. I’ll
guard that body alright, and I’ll burn down heaven and hell to make
sure they all know that she’s mine.

Please note that while a connected storyline, each of the Dirty Bad
Things books are completely standalone stories centered around one
couple, with no cliffhangers or spoilers. Dirty, filthy, and oh-so-
sweet, with an utterly obsessed alpha hero, explosive insta-
love, and enough kindle-melting steam to make you sweat.
Get ready to get wrong in the right kind of way. As with all
my books, this one is safe, with no cheating (trust me), and
a HEA guaranteed.
 PROLOGUE
ROMAN

This is fucking wrong.

It’s filthy, and dirty, and illicit. She gasps, her thighs tightening
around my muscled hips as the sound tumbles from her lips into the
big night sky. My lips find the soft skin of her neck, right where it
joins her collarbone, and this time, she moans in pleasure as I rake
my teeth across. My hips roll forward. I’m hard — fuck I’m always so
fucking hard with her, and when I feel it slide against her wet heat,
the groan rumbles through my throat.
This might be wrong, but there’s not a power on earth, in heaven, or
in hell that could drag me away from her right now.
You might say she’s not mine, and you might be partially right —
technically right. But say it to my face and see what happens.
Because the truth is, she’s been mine since before I ever laid on
eyes on her. She’s been mine before I fell into her hard, before I
claimed her as my own and before I made a vow to protect her with
my life.
…Before I decided to take her from the piece of shit who never
deserved to be in the same damn room as her to begin with.
She cries out as my thick head eases inside, her body quivering and
arching towards me as I slide inside. She’s so fucking wet for me —
so slick and slippery and eager for me — just like I like her. Just like
she always is for me. This slow penetration is just the beginning.
This is just the warm up before I take her in my big strong hands
and fuck her, like a goddess like her deserves to be taken. I’m going
to fuck her hard, like she likes it.
Like I like it, with her.
Her fingernails rake down my back, leaving lines on top of the ones
she’s already put there — damning marks over damning marks.
Evidence of our sin that I’d have tattooed across my skin if I could.
Fuck the consequences. Fuck them finding out. I’m facing worse
than death if we’re discovered, but I do. Not. Care.
Because you see, this goes deeper than me protecting her. It goes
further than taking her from the cruel, sadistic fuck who calls himself
her husband. I know on paper, what we’re doing makes me a piece
of shit, and her hatable at best. But that’s without knowing the full
story. That’s without knowing the details.
…And the devil is in the details, trust me.
“Harder,” she gasps softly, her hips rolling to meet mine as she
swallows up the rest of me, making me groan. “You know how I
want it,” she moans.
I do. I know exactly what she wants. My angel. My obsession. My
heart.
…My job to protect. Protect, not claim as my own. I’m her
bodyguard, she’s my charge, and her husband is my boss — Gino
Moretti, the cruel, iron-fisted head of the Moretti crime family out
here in Vegas.
Mob queen. Untouchable. Off limits. Big, neon red warning signs. Do
not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars.
Get-buried-up-to-your-neck-in-the-desert-for-the-vultures-to-find-you
type of don’t touch.
Oops.
Because here I am, sliding every single inch of me deep inside of
her, feeling her moan into my ear, feeling her nails scratch down my
back and her thighs tighten around my hips and her slick, tight,
perfect little pussy tighten around me.
Don’t you dare fuckin’ judge me. You don’t know our story, and you
don’t know Gino. He doesn’t deserve her. He never did. But he took
her anyways — the winnings of a bet her father made when he
owed Gino and couldn’t deliver. She was never his wife, she was his
prisoner. A little bird locked in a cage.
You could blame Gino for putting me in charge of watching her. You
could blame her father for being a lowlife. You could blame all sorts
of people, but if you want to point fingers, blame me.
Because I saw her, I wanted her, and I fucking took her. And I won’t
ever apologize for that.
“Fuck, Quinn,” I groan, my lips crushing to hers as her legs lock
around my waist. My muscles ripple, one hands gripping her ass
tight and the other sliding up into her long, fiery red hair. I pull back,
my dark eyes locked on her brilliant green ones, and I just lock my
gaze on hers as I watch her face start to crumble in pleasure.
She cries out as I drive deep into her, fucking her, claiming her,
burying every inch inside of her harder and faster as my fingers
tighten on her skin.
“Roman,” she gasps as she throws her head back and lets go. I feel
her body shiver and writhe against mine, and feel her coming so
hard against me, and I know I’m never letting go.
This is wrong.
This is a sin.
This could get us both killed.
…But she’s worth it.
 CHAPTER 1

QUINN

He’s late.

I grumble as I fold my arms over my chest and glare at the silver

Cartier Ballon Bleu watch on my wrist. But then, looking at this
freaking watch is never something that improved my mood. Because
to me, in this world I exist in, it’s more of a handcuff than a piece of
jewelry. It’s not pretty to me, it’s a reminder of how kept I am.
Just the same, I glance at it and huff. Yeah, he’s late.
I drop my arms and look up at the ladder I’ve got set up under the
chandelier in the foyer of the opulent house. There aren’t a lot of
perks of getting a bodyguard detailed to you, let me just say that. It
means some brooding, knuckle-dragging thug of Gino’s will be
following my every move. Hovering in my peripheral vision, hanging
outside the bathroom when I freaking pee. Yeah, fun fucking times.
Pauly was the last one — six-feet-who-cares of single-word
sentences and a neanderthal brow. Before that, it was Christo. But
Christo liked stealing my underwear, apparently, and Gino found out.
I in all honesty do not want to know what happened to Christo after
that. Comparatively, Pauly was fine. But that’s before he got nailed
trying to run his own girls on the side. And that did not sit well with
Gino either.
Not one bit.
So, I’ve got some new mob meathead coming today. But like I said,
there aren’t many perks to having a bodyguard, but one positive
thing, if you want to look for a silver lining, is that you at least have
some big hulk of a guy around to do some heavy lifting when you
need it. And today, the heavy lifting is replacing this stupid flickering
bulb in the foyer chandelier.
That’s part of my “duties” — part of the arrangement of me being
here. I fake a smile, I act like some trophy housewife from 1952,
and I keep the house clean and organized.
I play the part.
And I do all this because I freaking have to.
But having my new knuckle-dragging shadow here would be pretty
damn helpful right now with this stupid chandelier. For one, I’m not
exactly big on heights anyways, and this light fixture is so high up
that it’s going to take me standing on the top stop on freaking
tiptoes just to reach it. But the second reason having someone else
haul up a ladder and fumble around with the big heavy chandelier?
…Because I’m still sore.
Deliciously, heatedly, lip-bitingly, panty-meltingly sore. From last
night. From him.
My face burns hot as it comes rushing back to me, and I squeeze my
legs together tight, feeling that ache there between them. Fuck,
what I did last night was so incredibly dangerous but I had to. With
Pauly recently gone and no one hounding my steps, it was the only
time I could get away — the only time I could have one burst of
freedom.
I had to do it. I had to feel something besides feeling like a caged
bird in here. Gino’s little pet, chirping away like I’m supposed to do.
None of this is ever what I’d envisioned. Not the big gaudy house,
not the ludicrously expensive jewelry. Definitely not being married to
the sixty-four-year-old psychopathic head of the Moretti crime family.
…Hell, I’d never even planned to come back to Vegas after I’d left
for school. It was my mom’s cancer that brought me back here after
college. Then it was this stupid, stupid idea that if I stayed, I could
help my scumbag of a father finally get out from under the thumb of
the bigger scumbags he worked for.
Yeah, that’d turned out well.
My father was a driver for Gino, and when he ran off with a
shipment of coke and two-million in cash, well, things have a way of
not going so well when the mob gets ripped off like that. In another
storyline, they may have just killed me or worse, but that was before
Gino decided he had a better plan for me.
…To be his wife.
I know I could’ve refused, or run, or whatever. But I had other
people to think about. My grandmother in Reno, for instance, along
with my little cousin Melody who lives with her. Me running or
refusing? Yeah, Gino only had to smile that sick smile of his to let me
know what’d happen to them. So, I did what I had to do, and I
married the devil of Sin City.
The one sliver of a silver lining? Gino’s never touched me. And I do
me never. But that’s part of it — part of being a caged bird. I sit in
my cage, playing the part. Gino can do whatever he pleases, but
me? Nope. Nothing. It’s also one of the reasons I have a bodyguard,
I’m sure. But, c’mon, I’m twenty-four years old, and a girl has needs.
A girl needs release, right? And me, well, I need more than a
release.
…I need something no one’s ever really given me. Or maybe
something I’ve never really known how to ask someone for. “It’s too
wrong,” my ex-boyfriend from college, Mike, had said. “It’s not
right.” But I knew what I wanted. I want to feel. Not just sex, I want
the edge. The excitement. The roughness.
…That’s what I found last night, even if I wasn’t sure what I was
looking for when I’d gone to that place.
Without a bodyguard, sneaking out was easy. Gino spent days on
end never coming home while he was playing gangster. I put on a
skirt that he’d have never let me leave the house in, fuck-me heels,
and a blonde wig, and I’d jumped in a cab right down to The
Playroom.
A sex club.

16 hours ago:

Yeah, this is what it’s come to — me sneaking off to sex club. I know
I should feel guilty, or like a cheat. Unfaithful, maybe. Except my
marriage isn’t what people think it is. Trust me, it isn’t. It’s not even
really a marriage, by some standards. But even still, four minutes
after I walk into the place, I’m painfully aware I don’t belong here.
Or maybe I’m terrified that one of the Moretti’s people will be here
and know me even through the wig and heavy eye shadow.
Whatever it is though, I look around at the half naked couples and
triples and more on various couches and beds and stages around the
place and turn to get the hell out.
The man grabs my arm before I ever see him coming.
“Leaving so soon, baby?”
“I— Yep.” I can feel my blood pounding in my ear as he leans close,
leering at me with this predatory smile.
“Naw, I just saw you come in. C’mon babe, the real fun is in the
back rooms.”
“I’m really fine. I have to go.”
I pull away and make for the door, but I can feel him right behind
me.
“You know, you come in here and it says something to people.”
“That’s great,” I throw over my shoulder.
“It gets people interested.”
“Great.”
“People like me.”
I gasp as his hand catches my arm again, yanking me around. “I
think you should come check out the back room with me.”
“I think you should take your fucking hand off of me,” I hiss back.
“Now listen to me you little bitch. Quit with the hard to get act and
get that sweet little—”
He screams when my stiletto nails him in the shin through his dress
pants. I turn and I run. I go crashing through the small entryway,
streaming past the doormen and half tripping down the sidewalk
away from the place, my nerves shaking and my heart pumping
wildly. I make it half a block before he overtakes me, yanking me by
the arm into the dark alleyway next to us and shoving me against
the wall as the scream catches in my throat.
“You— Wait, you don’t know who I am—”
“I don’t give a fuck who you— fuck!”
He screams as I kick him with my heel again, freeing his grip enough
for me to dash down the alley. But he catches me even quicker this
time.
“You bitch!” he roars in my face, yanking me around and slamming
me into the brick wall. “Now you’re in big trouble you little fucking—”
His head makes a thudding sound as it hits the wall next to me, and
I watch his face scrunch in pain as he goes stumbling to the ground
with a groan.
“You keep your fucking hands away from her!”
The voice booms through me, over me — this dark, deep baritone
that sends vibrations through my whole body. I turn slowly, like I’m
moving underwater or something, and look up, and up into his face.
Whoa.
He’s gorgeous. He’s dangerous looking. He’s huge — towering over
me and baring his teeth in a snarl as he glares down at the creep on
the ground. His muscles ripple under the tight black t-shirt he wears,
his jaw with the trimmed beard clenching tight as those dark eyes
flash something fierce at my attacker.
“What the fuck do you—”
The creep gasps as the big man yanks him up by the collar,
slamming him against the wall viciously. “Leave,” he growls, the
words snarling from his jaw. “Leave before I fucking bury you.”
The creep breaks speed records sprinting out of the alley.
And I stare. I stare at my rescuer, standing there half hidden in
shadow, half illuminated by low, neon lights from the street. His
broad shoulders tense, his glare following the creep as he darts from
the alley. He’s like some sort of dark knight. No, something even
more primal than that. A freaking caveman or something.
A really, really hot caveman.
He turns slowly, his dark eyes flashing as they take me in. I can feel
my blood pumping hot with adrenaline and something else too…
Desire.
He’s so dark, and commanding, and powerful, and a little dangerous
looking.
Rough.
And in one second, as the heat teases through my body and as this
rough, gorgeous caveman ignites something primal inside of me, I
know.
I know this is exactly what I was looking for tonight. He’s everything
I’ve been looking for.
“Are you—”
My lips mash to his before he can even finish his words. Hell, I
almost have to climb him like a mountain to do it, but I do anyway
— leaping into him, throwing my arms around his neck, and kissing
him with everything I have. He tenses for a second, until suddenly,
he comes alive against me. I whimper as I feel those big, powerful
hands slide up my thighs, grabbing my ass tight and yanking me
even tighter against his muscled body. His lips part, his tongue
demanding entrance as he growls into the kiss. Heat pools between
my thighs, soaking my panties instantly as I moan into his lips and
roll my body against his.
I want this. I want everything about this. The rough, hardened man.
The unbridled lust. The dark alleyway adding this extra bit of
dirtiness to the whole thing that makes me moan even louder into
his mouth.
There’s no talking. He knows what I want, and I definitely know
what he wants. I can feel his huge bulge throbbing against my
panties, making me whimper as if feel the size of him pulse right
against my pussy. He growls, turning us and pressing me into the
brick wall as my legs spread around his hips. One of his hands
drops, and when I feel him yank at his belt and tug at his zipper, it’s
all I can do not to reach down and do it for him.
He kisses me hungrily, sucking my tongue into his mouth and
making my nipples harden to diamonds under my tiny dress. His
hand moves between my legs, stroking my soaked, messy panties
with one big finger, letting it tease up and down my slit before he
hooks it under the lacy edge. He tugs them to the side, and when I
feel the hot, thick, swollen head of his bare, rock-hard cock tease
against my lips, I moan.
Oh fuck, that’s big.
I hug him tighter, kissing him madly as I feel his enormous head slip
inside. I whimper, feeling my pussy stretch so fucking good around
his girth as he starts to push right inside.
There are still no words, just this.
His hands grip my ass, his growls rumbling through me as he rolls
his hips, and suddenly, he’s plunging all the way inside.
Oh FUCK that’s big.
I scream into his mouth, my body shivering in ecstasy as his huge
cock slides all the way in, filling me like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
I clench tight with my legs around him, grinding him deep as our
moans drown together. He pulls back, leaving me wanting more
before he obliges, driving every inch of that fat cock deep inside of
my pussy until I’m crying out in pleasure.
My back scrapes against the brick behind me, but I’m so far past
caring. I cling to him, spreading my legs wide for him as he starts to
fuck me hard.
And it is everything I’ve wanted.
It’s fast, and hard, and so fucking raw that I come in what must be a
minute. I can feel my walls clenching him tight, my body trembling
for him as I scream my release into his lips. He sets me down, and I
gasp as he suddenly spins me, bending me over at the waist until
my hands go flat against the wall. I feel him drop down behind me.
His hands roughly yank my soaked panties down to my ankles, and
when I feel that mouth of his move between my legs, I bury the
scream of pleasure in my arm.
His tongue pushes inside, fucking in and out of my pussy and
making my knees shake. He moves down, letting his tongue swirl
and flick over my clit until I’m panting for more. He stands, he
centers his thick dick against my opening, and this time, he drives in
with one deep thrust. I cry out, moaning in pleasure as he starts to
take me.
He fucks me hard and fast, his hands gripping my hips so tightly —
tight enough to bruise, and I love it. I can feel his balls hit my clit on
every powerful thrust, his thick cock filling me up like nothing else.
This is everything I’ve always secretly fantasized about. Everything
I’ve never known how to ask a boyfriend for. Raw, unbridled,
uncensored fucking. Bent over, holding the brick wall of an alley with
my panties around my ankles like a cheap slut. And loving it. His
huge cock pounding me so fucking good, every glorious inch filling
me up as he fucks the hell out of me. One hand grips my hip tightly,
while the other slides up my back and tangles in my hair. He tugs,
making me squeal in ecstasy as he drives all the way inside.
“You like this rough don’t you?” he growls roughly, thrusting into me
as I moan in pleasure. It’s the first words either of us have spoken,
and something about that makes it even hotter.
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Dirty girl,” he groans back, tugging my hair a little more and making
the adrenaline roar through me as I moan.
“You’re my dirty girl.”
God his voice. It’s so commanding, and so powerful sounding that it
has my knees quivering as I feel my slickness drip down my thighs.
He’s rough, and wild, and possessive, and fucking me like no man
ever has.
And I know I’m going to come all over again, all over that gorgeous
cock.
“I can feel that naughty little pussy getting tighter, dirty girl,” he
rasps into my ear as his muscled hips crash into me. “I know you
want me to make this tight little cunt come for me, don’t you? You
want to come all over this cock, bent over in an alley getting fucked
like a bad girl, don’t you?”
“Yes!” I almost scream, the waves starting to crash over me.
“So come for me,” he hisses, his thick cock plowing deep inside of
me. “Come all over my cock like a good little fuck toy.”
Oh FUCK.
I turn to scream into my shoulder as the orgasm detonates through
me like a bomb. My entire body ripples and shudders, pleasure
exploding through me as I come so fucking hard with his perfect
cock so deep inside of me.
He roars, his hands tightening on my hip and in my hair as he drives
in balls-deep and erupts. I gasp, feeling his thick cock throb, pulsing
and twitching as his hot, sticky cum spurts deep inside of me.
I’m panting, clinging to the brick and to my sanity as he holds me
like that, his cock still so hard and still filling me up to the brim as I
gasp for air. He pulls back, and as his big cock slips out of me, I
whimper as I feel his hot cum drip down my thighs.
It’s so dirty, and so fucking wrong. And I’m not even done yet. This
is the filthy fantasy — the one that’s kept me up late for more nights
than I can even count. And now that I’m getting a taste of it, I’m not
leaving until I have the whole thing. I want the whole fantasy.
I turn, and before he can say anything, I drop to my knees in front
of him. His big, slick cock glistens in the shadowed neon light right
in front of me, a big drop of creamy white cum beading at the tip.
“I—” I look up at him, my face red, my eyes wild, and my breath
haggard. And somehow, with just that look, he knows. He knows
exactly what I want.
“You want to clean my cock off, don’t you?” he purrs.
My pulse hammers through my ears, and I nod.
“Open your mouth, dirty girl,” he growls, his dark eyes locked on
mine and blazing fire right through me. “Open those pretty lips and
clean my fucking cock off.”
I lean forward, my arousal blooming between my legs all over again
as I wrap my lips around his cock. I whimper, tasting his cum and
mine on his swollen head as I hum around it. I drop my mouth down
his shaft, my tongue swirling and teasing all over him until I’ve
licked him clean.
I have never felt dirtier, or more slutty. But this is the fantasy. This is
the dark desire that I’ve got just one night to explore before I go
back into my cage.
My stranger pulls me up, and he kisses me hungrily as I fall into him.
His hand goes between my legs, his fingers stroking my slick,
dripping wet pussy. He kisses me deeper, stroking a thick finger in
and out of me as his thumb rolls over my clit. He moves faster and
faster, his nimble, thick fingers teasing me higher and higher as he
claims my mouth. He rubs his cum over my clit, his fingers plunging
in and out of me until suddenly, with a shudder, I come for him once
again. This time, I scream into his mouth, my pussy tightening
around his fingers as the orgasm shatters through me.
I pull away, trembling as I tug my ruined panties back up my legs. I
kiss him, hard, letting it linger for a second before I pull back.
“Thank you,” I whisper into his ear, kissing his cheek before I turn
and walk away, feeling like I’m walking on fucking air.

Present:
Fuck it. I glance at my watch once more before I just throw in the
towel.
I can do this.
I grab the spare bulb and start to climb. I’m in jean shorts and a t-
shirt today, not the slutty black dress from the night before, and
barefoot, no heels this time. But still, I can feel my knees shaking
and my nerves jangling as I slowly climb the ladder up to the big
crystal and metal lighting fixture. I make it to the top, and I’m
feeling pretty damn confident about the whole thing as I reach up
for the dead bulb, when the freaking front door flies open.
I turn at the sound, when suddenly, it all goes wrong. I gasp, vertigo
rushing through me as I feel myself start to tumble. The scream
lodges in my throat as I fall backwards, dropping like a rock until
suddenly I hit…arms.
Big, strong, powerful arms, catching me. The breath knocks out of
me as I crash into the big, muscled body, knocking the man down to
the floor with me on top. We land with a thud, me spread-legged on
top of him, straddling his hips with his arms wrapped tight around
me.
“Have you ever heard of fucking knock—”
My words fail. Because right then, I pull back, ready to give this guy
hell for almost killing me. And that’s when I see them.
Those eyes. The dark, piercing, fierce eyes.
…His eyes. The man from the night before.
Oh fuck.
“What are you doing here?!” I blurt out, my jaw hanging low and my
eyes wide.
“The fuck are you doing—” He freezes, and suddenly, it clicks for
both of us.
“Quinn Moretti.”
My name drops like a stone from his lips, the color draining from his
face.
“Roman Ford,” I croak, feeling like I’m about to faint. “You’re—
you’re my—”
“Bodyguard,” he finishes, the word growling from his lips. “I’m your
bodyguard.”
Oh shit…
 CHAPTER 2

ROMAN

Red hair tangled in my face. The smell of jasmine. Bright green eyes
staring right into mine. Her hands are on my chest, with those sweet
thighs spread around my waist. My hands are on her ass.
Fuck. My blood turns to ice for second. It’s her. Motherfucking her.
She’s not wearing the blonde wig from the night before. She’s not
wearing all the eye makeup, or the fuck-me heels, or the skirt that
said “push me up and make me scream.” No, she’s none of those
things right now, sprawled on top of me after tumbling off the
ladder.
But I’d know her scent anywhere. I’d know those eyes anywhere.
And that gasp? That cute little fucking gasp she makes when she
realizes who I am and what’s just happened? Well, fuck if it doesn’t
send the blood right to my cock. It shouldn’t but it can’t be helped.
Because right here, tumbled over me on the floor of Gino Moretti’s
foyer is the girl from last night. The one from the alley.
The girl who came crashing out of the front doors of The Playroom
like a bat out of hell. It was my first night running door security for
the notorious Vegas sex club. Normally, it was a job my buddy Ryker
pulled. But he’d asked for a favor and I’d stepped up. But, I couldn’t
imagine that girls with fear in their eyes coming running out of that
place was exactly normal.
The piece of shit running after her, and grabbing her, and yanking
her into a dark alleyway though? Yeah, not a fucking chance was I
going to let that happen. The plan had been…well, no. There hadn’t
been a plan at all besides stopping him from hurting her. Call it a
weak spot in my usual steel armor, but “staying out of it” wasn’t an
option. I’d gone charging in, torn him away, and sent him fucking
packing. After that, I should have just walked away. After that, I
should have pulled her out of that alley, got her a cab, and sent her
the hell home.
…Obviously, that’s not how shit shook out though.
I could blame that kiss, but it was all of it. It was the smell of her —
pheromones or some shit. It was the feel of her hands snaking
around my neck. The sweet softness of her lips. The hunger, the
barely contained need to explode that I could feel raging inside of
her. It was that she was fucking gorgeous, and it was that when she
kissed me, it was like nothing else in the world I’d ever known.
One kiss, and I was done, and after that, there wasn’t a chance in
hell I was leaving her.
That kiss lit a damn fuse, and when it went off, we exploded like
some sort of bomb. Fuck, I’d never just let go like that — never
totally let the dark desires inside of me just run rampant. I hadn’t
just fucked her, I’d fucking claimed her. I’d made her mine.
…Except, she wasn’t mine at all, and laying there on my ass with her
perched on top of me with both of our jaws dropped and two sets of
wide eyes staring into each other, I’m painfully aware of that.
Cripplingly so.
No, she’s not mine. She’s Gino’s. The girl I saved and then fucked
like a man possessed is now sitting on my lap. She’s my charge, my
job to protect. But more importantly, she’s my boss’s wife. And
suddenly, the reality of that claws its way through me.
Holy fuck. I screwed Gino fucking Moretti’s wife.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 que hará con famosíssimo
renombre
que Hesiodo en sus tiempos
no se nombre.

Al que romanas leyes

declarando,
y delicados versos
componiendo,
irá al sabio Licurgo
aventajando
y al veronés poeta
antecediendo,
ya desde aquí le estoy
pronosticando
gran fama en todo el
mundo, porque entiendo
que cuando de Oliver se
hará memoria
ha de callar antigua y nueva
historia.

Nymphas, vuestra ventura

conosciendo,
haced de interno gozo mil
señales,
que casi ya mi espíritu está
viendo
que aquí están dos varones
principales:
el uno militar, y el otro
haciendo
cobrar salud á míseros
mortales,
Siurana y el Ardévol, que
levantan
al cielo el verso altíssimo
que cantan.

¿Queréis ver un juicio agudo y

cierto
un general saber, un grave
tiento?
¿queréis mirar un ánimo
despierto,
un sossegado y claro
entendimiento?
¿queréis ver un poético
concierto,
que en fieras mueve blando
sentimiento?
Phelippe Catalán mirad,
que tiene
posessión de la fuente de
Hipocrene.

Veréis aquí un ingenio

levantado,
que gran fama ha de dar al
campo nuestro,
de soberano espíritu dotado,
y en toda habilidad experto
y diestro,
el Pellicer, doctísimo
letrado,
y en los poemas único
maestro,
en quien han de tener grado
excessivo
grave saber y entendimiento
vivo.

Mirad aquel, en quien pondrá

su assiento
 la rara y general sabiduría;
con este Orpheo muestra
estar contento,
y Apolo influjo altíssimo le
envía;
dale Minerva grave
entendimiento,
Marte nobleza, esfuerzo y
gallardía:
hablo del Romaní, que
ornado viene
de todo lo mejor que el
mundo tiene.

Dos soles nascerán en mis

riberas
mostrando tanta luz como el
del cielo;
habrá en un año muchas
primaveras,
dando atavío hermoso el
fértil suelo,
no se verán mis sotos y
praderas
cubiertos de intractable y
duro hielo,
oyéndose en mi selva ó mi
vereda
los versos de Vadillo y de
Pineda.

Los metros de Artieda y de

Clemente
tales serán en años
juveniles,
que los de quien presume
de excelente,
 vendrán á parescer bajos y
viles:
ambos tendrán entre la
sabia gente
ingenios sossegados y
subtiles,
y prometernos han sus
tiernas flores
fructos entre los buenos los
mejores.

La fuente que á Parnasso

hace famoso
será á Juan Pérez tanto
favorable,
que de la Tana al Gange
caudaloso
por siglos mil tendrá nombre
admirable;
ha de enfrenarse el viento
pressuroso,
y detenerse ha el agua
deleznable,
mostrando allí maravilloso
espanto
la vez que escucharán su
grave canto.

Aquel, á quien de drecho le es

debido
por su destreza un nombre
señalado,
de mis sagradas Nymphas
conoscido,
de todos mis pastores
alabado,
hará un metro sublime y
escogido,
entre los más perfectos
estimado:
este será Almudévar, cuyo
vuelo
ha de llegar hasta el
supremo cielo.

En lengua patria hará clara la

historia
de Nápoles el célebre
Espinosa,
después de eternizada la
memoria
de los Centellas, casa
generosa,
con tan excelso estilo, que
la gloria,
que le dará la fama
poderosa,
hará que este poeta sin
segundo
se ha de nombrar allá en el
nuevo mundo.

Recibo un regalado
sentimiento
en la alma de alegría
enternescida,
tan sólo imaginando el gran
contento
que me ha de dar el sabio
Bonavida:
tan gran saber, tan grave
entendimiento
tendrá la gente atónita y
vencida,
 y el verso tan sentido y
elegante
se oirá desde Poniente
hasta Levante.

Tendréis un Don Alfonso,

que el renombre
de ilustres Rebolledos
dilatando,
en todo el universo irá su
nombre
sobre Maron famoso
levantando;
mostrará no tener ingenio
de hombre,
antes con verso altíssimo
cantando,
parescerá del cielo haber
robado
la arte subtil y espíritu
elevado.

Por fin deste apacible y dulce

canto,
y extremo fin de general
destreza,
os doy aquel, con quien
extraño espanto
al mundo ha de causar
naturaleza;
nunca podrá alabarse un
valor tanto,
tan rara habilidad, gracia,
nobleza,
bondad, disposición,
sabiduría,
fe, discreción, modestia y
valentía.

Este es Aldana, el único

Monarca,
que junto ordena versos y
soldados,
que en cuanto el ancho mar
ciñe y abarca,
con gran razón los hombres
señalados
en gran duda pondrán, si él
es Petrarca
ó si Petrarcha es él,
maravillados
de ver que donde reina el
fiero Marte,
tenga el facundo Apolo tanta
parte.

Tras éste no hay persona á

quien yo pueda
con mis versos dar honra
esclarescida,
que estando junto á Phebo,
luego queda
la más lumbrosa estrella
escurecida,
y allende desto el corto
tiempo veda
á todos dar la gloria
merescida.
Adiós, adiós, que todo lo
restante
os lo diré la otra vez que
cante.
Este fué el canto del río Turia, al
cual estuvieron muy atentos los
pastores y Nymphas, ansí por su
dulzura y suavidad, como por los
señalados hombres que en él á la
tierra de Valencia se prometían.
Muchas otras cosas os podría
contar, que en aquellos dichosos
campos he visto; pero la
pesadumbre que de mi prolijidad
habéis recibido, no me da lugar á
ello. Quedaron Marcelio y las
pastoras con gran maravilla de lo
que Clenarda les había contado,
pero cuando llegó á la fin de su
razón, vieron que estaban muy
cerca del templo de Diana y
comenzaron á descubrir sus altos
chapiteles, que por encima de los
árboles sobrepujaban. Mas antes
que al gran palacio llegassen,
vieron por aquel llano cogiendo
flores una hermosa Nympha, cuyo
nombre, y lo que de su vista
sucedió, sabréis en el libro que se
sigue.

Fin del libro tercero.

 LIBRO CUARTO
DE DIANA ENAMORADA

Grandes son las quejas que los

hombres dan ordinariamente de la
Fortuna; pero no serían tantas ni
tan ásperas si se tuviesse cuenta
con los bienes que muchas veces
nos vienen de sus mudanzas. El
que estando en ruin estado
huelga que la fortuna se mude, no
tiene mucha razón de increparla y
afrentarla con el nombre de
mudable cuando algún contrario
sucesso le acontesce. Mas pues
ella en el bien y en el mal tiene
por tan natural la inconstancia, lo
que toca al hombre prudente es
no vivir confiado en la possessión
de los bienes ni desesperado en
el sufrimiento de los males: antes
vivir con tanta prudencia que se
passen los deleites como cosa
que no ha de durar, y los
tormentos como cosa que puede
ser fenescida. De semejantes
hombres tiene Dios particular
cuidado, como del triste y
congojado Marcelio, librándole de
su necessidad por medio de la
sapientíssima Felicia, la cual,
como con su espíritu adevinasse
que Marcelio, Diana y los otros
venían á su casa, hizo de manera
que aquella hermosa Nympha
saliesse en aquel llano para que
les diesse ciertas nuevas y
sucediessen cosas que con su
extraña sabiduría vió que mucho
convenían. Pues como Marcelio y
los demás llegassen donde la
Nympha estaba, saludáronla con
mucha cortesía, y ella les
respondió con la misma.
Preguntóles para dónde
caminaban, y dijéronle que para
el templo de Diana. Entonces
Arethea, que este era el nombre
de la Nympha, les dijo: Según en
vuestra manera mostráis tener
mucho valor, no podrá dejar
Felicia, cuya Nympha soy, de
holgar con vuestra compañía. Y
pues ya el sol está cercano del
occaso, volveré con vosotros allá,
donde seréis recebidos con la
fiesta possible. Ellos le
agradescieron mucho las
amorosas ofertas, y juntamente
con ella caminaron hacia el
templo. Grande esperanza
recibieron de las palabras desta
Nympha, y aunque Polydoro y
Clenarda habían estado en la
casa de Felicia, no la conoscían
ni se acordaban habella visto.
Esto era por la muchedumbre de
Nymphas que tenía la sabia, las
cuales obedesciendo su mandado
entendían en diversos hechos en
diferentes partes. Por esso le
preguntaron su nombre, y ella dijo
que se llamaba Arethea. Diana
le preguntó qué había de nuevo
en aquellas partes, y ella
respondió: Lo que más nuevo hay
por acá es que habrá dos horas
que llegó á la casa de Felicia una
dama en hábito de pastora, que
vista por un hombre anciano que
allí hay fué conoscida por su hija,
y como había mucho tiempo que
andaba perdida por el mundo, fué
tanto el gozo que recibió, que ha
redundado en cuantos están en
aquella casa. El nombre del viejo,
si bien me acuerdo, es Eugerio,
y el de la hija Alcida. Marcelio
oyendo esto quedó tal como un
discreto puede presumir, y dijo:
¡Oh venturosos trabajos los que
alcanzan fin con tan próspera
ventura! ¡Ay, ay! y queriendo
passar adelante se le añudó el
corazón y se le travó la lengua,
cayendo en el suelo desmayado.
Diana, Ismenia y Clenarda,
sentándose cabe él, le esforzaron
y le dijeron palabras para dalle
ánimo. Y ansí tornando luego en
sí, se levantó. No se holgaron
poco Polydoro y Clenarda con
semejante nueva, viendo que sus
desventuras con la venida de su
hermana Alcida habían de
acabarse; y Diana y Ismenia
también recibieron grande alegría,
assí por la que sus compañeros
tenían, como por la que ellas
esperaban de mano de la que
sabía hacer tales maravillas.
Diana, por saber algo de Syreno,
á la Nympha preguntó assí:
Nympha hermosa, gran confianza
me distes de contento con
decirme el que hay en el palacio
de Felicia por la venida de Alcida,
pero más cumplido le recibiré si
me contáis los pastores más
señalados que en ella están.
Respondió entonces Arethea:
Muchos pastores hallaréis allí de
singular merescimiento; pero los
que agora se me acuerdan son
Sylvano y Selvagia, Arsileo y
Belisa, y un pastor, el más
principal de todos, llamado
Syreno, de cuyas habilidades
hace Felicia mucho caso; mas
tiene un ánimo tan enemigo de
Amor, que á cuantos están allí
tiene maravillados. De la mesma
condición es Alcida, tanto que
después que ella ha llegado, los
dos no se han partido, tratando
del olvido y platicando cosas de
desamor. Y ansí tengo por muy
cierto que Felicia los hizo venir á
su casa para casallos, pues son
entrambos de un mesmo
parescer, y están sus ánimos en
las condiciones tan avenidos, que
aunque él es pastor y ella dama,
puede Felicia añadirle á él más
valor del que tiene, dándole
muchíssima riqueza y sabiduría,
que es la verdadera nobleza. Y
prosiguiendo su razon Arethea,
vuelta á Marcelio dijo: Por esso
tú, pastor, pues ves tu bien en
peligro de venir á manos ajenas,
no te detengas un punto, que si
llegas á tiempo podrás hurtarle la
ventura á Syreno. Diana, después
de haber oído estas palabras,
sintió bravíssima pena, y la
señalara con voces y lágrimas si
la vergüenza y la honestidad no
se lo impidieran. El mesmo dolor,
y por la mesma causa, sintió
Marcelio, y quedó dél tan
atormentado que pensó morirse,
haciendo grandíssimos extremos:
de manera que un mesmo
cuchillo travessó los corazones de
Marcelio y Diana, y un mesmo
recelo les fatigó las almas.
Marcelio temía el casamiento de
Alcida con Syreno y Diana el de
Syreno con Alcida. La hermosa
Nympha bien conocía á Marcelio
y Diana y todos los demás; pero
por orden sapientíssima, que
Felicia les había dado, había
dissimulado con ellos y había
dicho una verdad, para darle á
Marcelio una no pensada alegría,
y una mentira para más avivar su
deseo y el de Diana, y para que
con esta amargura después les
fuessen más dulces los placeres
que allí habían de recebir.
Llegados ya á una plaza ancha y
hermosíssima, que está delante la
puerta de aquel palacio, vieron
salir por ella una venerable dueña
con una saya de terciopelo negro,
tocada con unos largos y blancos
velos, acompañada de tres
hermosíssimas Nymphas,
representando una honestíssima
Sibila. Esta era la sabia Felicia, y
las Nymphas eran Dorida, Cynthia
y Polydora. Llegando Arethea
delante su señora, avisada
primero su compañía cómo
aquélla era Felicia, se le arrodilló
á sus pies y le besó las manos, y
lo mesmo hicieron todos. Mostró
Felicia tener gran contento de su
venida, y con gesto muy alegre
les dijo: Preciados caballeros,
dama y pastoras señaladas,
aunque es muy grande el placer
que tengo de vuestra llegada, no
será menor el que recibiréis de mi
vista. Mas porque venís algo
fatigados id á tomar descanso y
olvidad vuestro tormento, pues lo
primero no podrá faltaros en mi
casa y lo segundo con mi
poderoso saber será presto
remediado. Mostraron todos allí
muchas señales y palabras de
agradescimiento, y al fin dellas se
despidieron de Felicia. Hizo la
sabia que Polydoro y Clenarda
quedassen allí diciendo tener que
hablar con ellos; y los demás,
guiados por Arethea, se fueron á
un aposento del rico palacio,
donde fueron aquella noche
festejados y proveídos de lo que
convenía para su descanso. Era
esta casa tan sumptuosa y
magnífica, tenía tanta riqueza, era
poblada de tantos jardines, que
no hay cosa que de gran parte se
le pueda comparar. Mas no quiero
detenerme en contar
particularmente su hermosura y
riqueza, pues largamente fué
contada en la primera parte. Sólo
quiero decir que Marcelio, Diana y
Ismenia fueron aposentados en
dos piezas del palacio
entapizadas con paños de oro y
seda ricamente labrados, cosa no
acostumbrada para las simples
pastoras. Fueron allí proveídos de
una abundante y delicada cena,
servidos con vasos de oro y de
cristal, y al tiempo de dormir se
acostaron en tales camas, que
aunque los cuerpos de sus penas
y cansancios venían fatigados, la
blandura y limpiezas dellas y la
esperanza que Felicia les había
dado les convidó á dulce y
reposado sueño. Por otra parte,
Felicia en compañía de sus tres
Nymphas, y de Polydoro y
Clenarda; y avisándoles que no
dijessen nada de la venida de
Marcelio, Diana é Ismenia, fué á
un ameníssimo jardín, donde
vieron que en un corredor Eugerio
con su hija Alcida estaba
passeando. Don Félix y
Felismena, Syreno, Sylvano y
Selvagia, Arsileo y Belisa y otro
pastor estaban más apartados
sentados en torno de una fuente.
Estaba aún Alcida con los mismos
vestidos de pastora con que aquel
día había llegado, pero luego por
sus hermanos fué conoscida. La
alegría que todos tres hermanos
recibieron de verse juntos, y la
que el padre tuvo de ver á sí y á
ellos con tanto contento, el gozo
con que se abrazaron, las
lágrimas que vertieron, las
razones que passaron y las
preguntas que se hicieron, no se
pueden con palabras declarar.
Grandes fiestas hizo Alcida á los
hermanos, pero muchas más á
Polydoro que á Clenarda, por la
presumpción que tenía que con
Marcelio se había ido, dejándola
en la desierta isla, como habéis
oído. Pero queriendo Felicia
aclarar estos errores y dar fin á
tantas desdichas, habló ansí:
Hermosa Alcida, por más que la
fortuna con desventuras muy
grandes se ha mostrado tu
enemiga, no negarás que con el
contento que agora tienes, de
todas sus injurias no estés
cumplidamente vengada. Y
porque el engaño, que hasta
agora tuviste, aborresciendo sin
razón á tu Marcelio, si vives más
en él, es bastante para alterar tu
corazón y darle mucho
desabrimiento, será menester que
de tu error y sospecha quedes
desengañada. Lo que de Marcelio
presumes es al revés de lo que
piensas: porque dejarte allí en la
isla no fué culpa suya, sino de un
traidor y de la fortuna. La cual, por
satisfacer el daño que te hizo, te
ha encaminado á mí, en cuya
boca no hallarás cosa ajena de
verdad. Todo lo que acerca desto
passa, tu hermana Clenarda
largamente lo dirá; oye su razón y
da crédito á sus palabras, que por
mí te juro que cuantas cosas
sobre ello te contará serán
certíssimas y verdaderas.
Comenzó entonces Clenarda á
contar el caso como había
passado, desculpando á Marcelio
y á sí, recitando largamente la
grande traición y maldad de
Bartofano y todo lo demás que
está contado. Oído lo cual, Alcida
quedó muy satisfecha, y junto con
el engaño salió de su corazón el
aborrescimiento. Y tanto por estar
fuera del error passado como por
la obra que las poderosas
palabras de Felicia hacían en su
alma, comenzó á despertarse en
ella el adormido amor y avivarse
el sepultado fuego, y como tal le
dijo á Felicia: Sabia señora, bien
conozco el yerro mío y la merced
que me heciste en librarme dél,
pero si yo desengañada amo á
Marcelio, estando él ausente
como está, no tendré el
cumplimiento de alegría que de tu
mano espero, antes recibiré tan
extremada pena, que para el
remedio della será menester que
me hagas nuevos favores.
Respondió á esto Felicia: Buena
señal es de amor tener miedo de
la ausencia; pero ésta no tardará
mucho, pues yo tomé á cargo tu
salud. El sol ya sus rayos ha
escondido, y es hora de
recogerse; vete con tu padre y
hermanos á reposar, que mañana
hablaremos en lo demás. Dicho
esto se salió del jardín, y lo
mesmo hicieron Eugerio y sus
hijas, yendo á los aposentos del
palacio que Felicia les tenía
señalados, que estaban
apartados de los de Marcelio y
sus compañeras. Quedaron un
rato Don Félix y Felismena, los
otros pastores y pastoras en torno
de la fuente; pero luego se fueron
á cenar dejando concertado de
volver allí al día siguiente, una
hora antes del día, para gozar de
la frescura de la mañana. Pues
como la esperanza del placer les
hiciesse passar la noche con
cuidado, todos madrugaron tanto
que antes de la hora concertada
acudieron con sus instrumentos á
la fuente. Eugerio, con el hijo y
hijas, avisado de la música,
madrugó, y fué también allá.
Comenzaron á tañer, cantar y
mover grandes juegos y bullicios
á la lumbre de la Luna, que con
lleno y resplandeciente gesto los
alumbraba como si fuera día.
Marcelio, Diana y Ismenia
dormían en dos aposentos, el uno
al lado del otro, cuyas ventanas
daban en el jardín. Y aunque por
ellas no podían ver la fuente, á
causa de unos espessos y altos
álamos que lo estorbaban, pero
podían oir lo que en torno della se
hablaba. Pues como al bullicio,
regocijo y cantares de los
pastores Ismenia recordasse,
despertó á Diana, y luego Diana
dando golpes en la pared que los
dos aposentos dividía, despertó á
Marcelio, y todos se asomaron á
las ventanas, donde estuvieron
sin ser vistos ni conoscidos.
Marcelio se paró á escuchar si
por ventura sentiría la voz de
Alcida. Diana estaba muy atenta
por oir la de Syreno. Sola Ismenia
no tenía confianza de oir á
Montano, pues no sabía que allí
estuviesse. Pero ella tuvo más
ventura, porque á la sazón un
pastor al son de su zampoña
cantaba deste modo:

Sextina.
La hermosa, rubicunda y
fresca Aurora
ha de venir tras la importuna
noche;
sucede á la tiniebla el claro
día,
las Nymphas salirán al
verde prado,
y el aire sonará el suave
canto,
y dulce son de cantadoras
aves.

Yo soy menos dichoso que las

aves
que saludando están la
alegre Aurora,
mostrando allí regocijado
canto;
que al alba triste estoy como
la noche,
ó esté desierto ó muy florido
el prado,
ó esté ñubloso ó muy
sereno el día.