Bad Reputation

by JC Harroway

  ‘God, no.’ She groans. ‘That was good. Perfect. I liked the nibbling and tweaking.’

  ‘See, that wasn’t so hard—this is what I want to hear.’

  I press kisses in the small of her back and then kiss each cheek before pressing my teeth there with the barest hint of pressure. ‘And the biting? Too much?’ Oh, how I’d love to mark her, give her a hickey so she remembers this in the days to come every time she looks in the mirror.

  ‘Um...no!’ she squeaks, bucking her pelvis. ‘That was good too.’

  I grip her hips and encourage her to roll over onto her back.

  I look down at the woman I know so well, pride building in me that she trusts me enough to gift me this incredible privilege. Flushed and panting, looking at me as if I’m the only man on earth.

  Not a womaniser with bad genes.

  Need roars through my head. Why have I denied myself this possibility for so long, and how can I take full advantage of my luck before Neve wakes up to my true nature? Because not all my decisions have been as awesome as this one.

  When I met her I was a monumental fuck-up, more like my father than I care to admit, and she was amazing, someone I knew I wanted in my life despite being out of her league. But I’m older now. More mature. I have no intention of losing her or allowing her to regret this.

  But the clock is ticking.

  ‘So the nipple play was good.’ I scoot down the bed and lift one leg, bend her knee and press her ankle up to my lips. ‘What about the kissing?’

  Her mouth hangs open, her breasts rising on every laboured breath. ‘That was fine. Oliver, do we have to talk?’

  I swirl my tongue around her anklebone. ‘Oh, yes, I’d say the talking is essential for orgasm number two. I’m not sure I’m happy with just fine.’ My tongue laves up the curve of her calf to a sensitive spot behind her knee. ‘Mmm... I’ll have to try harder with the kissing.’

  She’s panting now. ‘Okay. Good. The kissing was good. It definitely helped. But I don’t think I’ll be able to come again...’

  I slide onto my stomach, shouldering her thighs open until I’m positioned exactly where I want to be. I press a kiss beneath her belly button, smiling up at her outraged but aroused expression. ‘Don’t make this even more exciting by issuing a challenge.’

  Slowly, deliberately, I look down between her legs. Lust robs my breath. She’s completely bare, all that gorgeous pink pussy on display for me.

  Neve whimpers and covers her face with her hand. ‘Oh...’

  ‘Don’t you hide from me,’ I say, tracing kisses and licks up her smooth inner thighs, while my stare jumps from her face to my new favourite view.

  She lifts her head and glares. ‘Oliver...’ But the reprimand lacks conviction, her voice so strangled and needy.

  ‘Tell me,’ I say, sucking in the scent of her arousal until my dick starts to weep, ‘was two fingers enough? Is three too ambitious?’ I trace her opening with one feather-light fingertip.

  She shakes her head, her bottom lip trapped under her teeth, her eyes wide, pleading. Her lips actually tremble.

  Damn, she’s incredible.

  ‘No?’ I press a kiss to her mons, swirl my tongue there, avoiding her most sensitive areas until I’m certain she’s ready to beg...or demand.

  ‘I loved everything you did to me.’ She’s panting with need now, desperation hovering in her eyes. ‘Couldn’t you feel how hard I came?’ she whispers.

  I grin; my Neve is warming up. ‘I could. Let’s see if you’re ready for another.’

  Panic flares in her beautiful eyes, but there’s desire too. ‘I... I can’t.’

  I grin, blow a stream of air over her exposed lips. ‘I think you can,’ I say and lower my mouth to her, sucking and tonguing her sweet flesh like I’m French-kissing her pussy.

  She cries out, her thighs jerking and her head falling back between her shoulders. I part her with my thumbs and find her swollen clit, plump and ready.

  ‘Oliver...’ She says my name on a gasp that makes my blood pump harder because there’s reverence in her voice that makes me feel invincible somehow. Right now, I’m so much more than the sum of my parts. More than her commitment-phobic friend. More than a casual fuck. More than a man.

  I’m everything she deserves in this single moment.

  ‘Why don’t you watch what I’m doing and direct proceedings?’ I suggest, my pulse hammering hard enough to deafen me. ‘That way, I’ll know what you like.’

  Her huge eyes are round as she stares at me between her legs and then watches my mouth lave kiss after kiss to her pouty clit.

  She’s addictive. Her scent is so arousing I’m worried I might come in my shorts. I ease my hips back to dampen the friction and flatten my tongue over the taut bundle of nerves that all my verbal preparation has swollen to a tight bud.

  ‘Yes...’ Neve hisses, grasping my head with both hands so she can rock her pelvis against my mouth.

  I keep up the suction, searching the bed for the dildo with one hand. I see the moment she notices the toy, excitement flaring in her eyes. I look down, lining it up at her slick entrance, and then search her face for permission. Her nod and whimper is the green light I need. I ease the thick toy inside her, my dick throbbing as we both watch the shocking-pink shaft disappear between her lips.

  ‘Oliver,’ she pants, her thighs trembling at the invasion. ‘Suck me.’

  I want to beat my chest in triumph at how perfect she is. Sweet, shy Neve has left the building. This Neve is greedy for orgasm number two. And I’ll give her anything. Do anything to make her happy. To watch her come again.

  I obey, my mouth finding her once more, alternating sucks and flicks of my tongue with plunges of the dildo inside her, knowing all the while she’s watching.

  This time her orgasm builds slowly. Her cries, her chanting my name over and over, and the jerks of her thighs, are all clues of the impending climax. Number two looks and sounds as good as the first. Neve’s pleasure is one of the best sights I’ve ever seen, as she shatters and collapses back onto the bed, spent.

  Testosterone roars through me, my abstinence equally depleted. ‘Do you have any condoms?’ I toss away the toy and race out of my clinging shorts, which feel two sizes too small. Have I ever been this turned on? This hot for a woman? Is it just because I know it’s a one-time deal? A novelty? Forbidden? Or is it wonderful Neve and her addictive abandon?

  Neve waves her hand in the direction of her wash bag on the nightstand and I rummage, my shaking fingers quickly locating my prize. I sheath myself and climb on top of her still spent body. She welcomes me, her kisses fast and frantic and her hands grabby, tugging on my shoulders and buttocks as I line myself up.

  Part of me can’t believe I’m actually doing this—about to penetrate my beautiful Neve, a woman I’ve forced myself to ignore sexually for so long. But, just as her pleasure is precious to me, so is she. I’ll pay the price, make everything all right between us, if I can just have this one time.

  With teeth gritted against the impending ecstasy, I sink forward into her tight warmth, my mind blank from all the reasons this is a terrible idea and I plunge home, thrust after thrust. Her cries and kisses urge me on. Sweat breaks out, stinging my eyes. But I don’t want it to be over so soon, even as animalistic instincts take hold of my hips. I brace my arms either side of her head, my thrusts rocking the bed into the wall. She feels amazing. She is amazing. Perfection.

  ‘Touch yourself. Your nipples. Your clit,’ I bite out, and she nods, whimpers and obeys, one hand delving between our hips and the other plucking at one red, swollen nub.

  Her pale skin is marked from my mouth and my facial hair, the sign of possession I craved.

  My climax builds at the base of my spine, fire boiling in my belly. But still I want her with me, coming around my cock the way she milked the toy and my fingers. I wan
t everything she has now I’ve stepped across the line. I want her corrupted. Ruined for mediocre sex for ever. Not my sweet friend, but this sexy woman who’s ripped apart everything I thought I knew about her.

  ‘Are you close?’ I grit out, hips slamming into hers.

  Miraculously she nods, her head thrown back as she wails, and we come together, angels singing, stars bursting and unicorns prancing.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Neve

  I GRIP OLIVER’S waist and rest my cheek against his sun-warmed back, hiding from the worst of the sea spray as he spins the jet-ski in a tight arc. Adrenaline forces a squeal from me. I grip the seat with my thighs and cling to him for dear life. My heart thumps so hard, I’m sure he must feel it against his back.

  After the astounding and miraculous orgasm medley this morning, we took the jet-ski and snorkel gear and headed out for the afternoon, exploring the pristine lagoon and teeming reefs of the Maldives. A good thing, because if we’d been anywhere near our rooms at the resort I’d be dragging Oliver back to bed.

  I close my eyes and rest my forehead between his shoulder blades. How can I know him so well but still feel like I don’t know him at all? The sex was everything I imagined and more, no fantasy able to compare with Oliver’s sexual talents and my body’s wondrous release. I’m still unsure how he managed to drag not just one but three orgasms from me in quick succession. Perhaps it was his bedroom eyes, or the bossiness, or the dirty talk... Or a winning combination.

  But, while I’m still celebrating the miracle, a part of me hasn’t been able to shake the doubts since.

  Because we can never take back what happened.

  I was blind to the shoal of tropical fish decorating the reef while we snorkelled, my mind occupied with how I’d had the most incredible sex of my life, but that it couldn’t happen again, because it was with my best friend. A man with no interest in forming anything long term. And that’s good, right? Because one time is recoverable, but more than that could become habit and therefore dangerous.

  Over the years I’ve watched Oliver perfect the several-nights stand, which never turns into a relationship. And while right now, with my body still singing hallelujahs, several nights of Oliver’s brand of sex sounds like the best plan ever, I cannot get carried away. There’s a real risk if we did it again and again and again...

  I suck in the scent of his skin, my body aching. How will I survive the next few days if it doesn’t happen again? How can I go back to pretending that I don’t crave his touch, his kisses, his body? I’ll need to learn to lie all over again.

  And is he still my best friend? Is it possible to return to what we were after such an incredible but disastrous side-step over the line?

  Oliver swings the jet-ski in a figure-of-eight through the warm Indian ocean, as if it’s business as usual. True to his word and the strict rules we’d set out, we haven’t discussed it since, even though the memories are fresh enough. If I close my eyes while I suck in the scent of his warm skin, I can recreate a thrilling, involuntary clench of my internal muscles.

  I sit up straight, mentally shaking myself. Olly and I are good enough friends, mature enough adults, to make a one-time holiday hook-up work. Our relationship is too important to spoil because we had sex... Even the kind of sex that surely sets off seismic activity on the ocean bed...at least for me. Perhaps it’s always that way for him.

  And there it is, the core at the centre of my doubts—that I’m an anomaly for him. Not his usual type. He’s had a lot of partners, but he always manages to find women who want the same things—a casual good time.

  One of the major reasons my last few relationships ended was because I’d grown a little more committed than my exes. I seem to have a knack for choosing men who aren’t quite as invested in the relationship, and no one wants to feel like a stop-gap until someone better comes along. And then, of course, there was the bad sex...

  But I can learn from my experience with Oliver. Now that we’ve proved there’s nothing wrong with me, that I’ve just been sleeping with the wrong partners—selfish partners uninterested in my pleasure—we can go on as if it never happened.

  Right?

  But, oh...it did happen, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. My heart thuds against his back, excitement building at the idea that, if I’m disciplined with myself, I can have more of him...perhaps until we have to go home...?

  No—if Oliver can stick to the rules we laid out at the start, I sure as hell can. And there’s no way I want to be the friend he hooks up with every now and then. A sexual placeholder in between his other women.

  ‘Let’s get a drink,’ he yells over the sound of the engine. I give him a thumbs-up and he slows the jet-ski and heads for shore. In the shallows we dismount and tug the craft up onto the sand, handing our life jackets back to the waiting resort staff.

  There’s a bar on the beach, tables and chairs spilling from the deck onto the sand. We head for the sun-loungers underneath palm-thatched umbrellas that face the endless blue sea and give our order to a nearby waiter.

  ‘That was so much fun,’ I say, flopping down onto a lounger and relaxing back against the pillows as if I’m not sneaking looks at Oliver’s wet, ripped body from behind my dark glasses.

  ‘Mmm...’ he mumbles, settling beside me.

  We sit in silence, punctuated only by the arrival of our drinks, a cocktail for me and a beer for him. The warm breeze raises goose bumps over my skin, each excruciating second stretched indefinitely.

  What now? This was exactly the kind of awkwardness I feared.

  Both of us take a generous swallow, as if we’re avoiding the moment when we’ll be forced to have a normal friendly conversation. A conversation that has nothing to do with nipples, erections or orgasms.

  Why is this so hard? He’s still Olly. Still my friend.

  I take a second gulp of the delicious drink and then place it on the table between Oliver’s lounger and mine, presenting a calm, unaffected exterior while my heart thumps against my ribs and my stomach sinks.

  I can’t think of a single thing to say to a man with whom conversation has always flowed easily. My mind snags on the image of Oliver’s face as he’d come inside me this morning. You should never know what your best friend’s sex face looks like. I can’t un-see that. I can’t go back to thinking of him just as my friend, because he’s more now. Can I even pretend he’s a friend when the lust incapacitating me makes the previous nine years of lusting seem inconsequential?

  Do I even want to go back to being friends now that I know how devastating sex with him is? But I’ve already written off being his lover, the potential heartache too risky.

  Ugh—I’m going around in circles. I grab my drink once more, an occupation for my fidgety hands. We’ve ruined what we had and there’s no future outside friendship in which we can both be happy.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, shaking me from my brain freak-out so that I literally jump, spilling a splash of sticky cocktail on my belly. ‘I know we promised we wouldn’t talk about it, but let’s talk about it.’

  I wipe at the spill with a napkin, delaying the moment when I have to look at him. ‘Is that a good idea?’ I mumble, settling my eyes on the view while the renegade neurones in my brain fire silent question after silent question.

  Is our friendship irreparably damaged?

  How was it for you?

  And, most pressing, can we do it again?

  ‘We said we wouldn’t talk about it. Ever,’ I remind him. I just need to prepare for the return of abstinence.

  ‘I know.’ He shoots me that look, the one he issued earlier when he said those magical words I could make you come until you scream your throat raw. ‘But that was before you started to freak out.’ His voice is way too calm for my liking, as if for him what we shared this morning is no big deal. It’s a big deal for me. Gargantuan. It was spectacular and my bod
y wants a repeat I know I can’t have. I’d say that’s worthy of a decent freak-out.

  ‘I’m not freaking out,’ I say, chasing full-blown denial. ‘We agreed the subject was closed. You’re breaking the rules.’

  Thank goodness he raised it—I was close to cracking myself.

  I’m still avoiding looking his way, but I feel the smile in his voice. ‘Ah, come on, Never, you’ve always known I’m a bad influence,’ he says. I’ve previously secretly adored my nickname, because it was just between us, like a secret handshake. Only now its use douses me with chills.

  Neve was his lover. Never is definitely his friend.

  ‘Can’t a guy gloat when he’s having the best day of his life?’ he says, and my head whips around. He’s having the best day of his life? I narrow my eyes. Is he teasing?

  As if he’s perfectly content with his revealing statement and my shell-shocked reaction, he stretches out his long body on the lounger.

  Then he looks at me, playful once more, his voice low. ‘Oliver and Neve, three,’ he says about my orgasm tally. ‘SBF Club, zero.’

  He grins, and I want to kiss him so badly, to sit astride him out here on the beach and take his magnificent penis into my mouth until it’s all he can do to lie helpless and turned on under me—the way I behaved earlier. He’s far too smug for my state of mind, which veers from wildly aroused to cranky and confused.

  Bloody Oliver...

  ‘SBF Club?’ I ask, fully aware I’m skirting a forbidden conversation and indulging Oliver’s ego. Part of me dreads knowing what he means by the initials.

  ‘It stands for Serious Boring Fuckers,’ he says, looking faintly annoyed. ‘Your lazy exes.’

  I gasp, casting a frown in his direction. ‘You had a club name for them?’ I knew there was little love lost between Oliver and the men of my past, especially after I split with them, but this is the first time he’s ever admitted it aloud. But why, unless he was... No, he couldn’t be... Jealous?

  Trickles of sick delight run through my veins, knowing that misery loves company and that he might too have suffered frustration over the years. Until today, he’s never given one indication that he sees me in a sexual light—probably the reason I’m reeling about what this morning’s deviation means. And his jealousy could just be possessiveness over our friendship, nothing more.