Bad Reputation

by JC Harroway

  ‘I never lie to women—they know what they’re getting into with me, and they say they want the same thing. Casual.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re honest about it, but people develop feelings. Every time a woman gets too close, you shut her out and move on without a backward glance. But that’s not going to work for me. We agreed we wouldn’t let this morning come between us.’

  Rage clenches every muscle in my body. ‘I’d never shut you out of my life. I’ve never come close to a relationship because I choose to avoid them. With my father on his sixth marriage as a role model, can you blame me?’

  ‘I guess not.’ She shrugs. ‘Olly, I know that you had a pretty shitty time growing up with Slay, but please don’t let him come between us.’

  ‘I’d never allow anything to come between us. I need you.’ I tug her closer, squeeze her fingers with one hand and cup her face with the other so she can’t escape. ‘I’m sorry that I allowed my father to distract me. It’s just that...you’re my weakness and he can’t know that. I want to keep him the hell away from you. For your sake. To protect you.’ I can’t stop looking at her tempting mouth. I want to kiss her so badly, to demand her forgiveness. Because I need her now more than ever.

  But she’s right—if I don’t open up, I might lose her anyway.

  I sigh, let go of her face and tug her down to sit on the sand, close enough for me to feel comforted by her body heat.

  ‘I’ve spent years trying to carve something for myself completely unrelated to him or my past,’ I say, spilling the words that will make her understand what she means to me. ‘My relationship with you, my work—there’s no hint of him there, and I love that, take pride in those areas of my life.’ I can’t be all bad, if she’s believed in me all these years, but she deserves to understand the way I feel about Slay.

  ‘Remember when I told you about Jane?’ I say, gripping her hand.

  ‘Your teenage girlfriend?’ She nods, her eyes wary.

  ‘Yeah. Well, when she dumped me, I was pretty cut up. When Slay noticed me moping, after a rare bout of parental observation, he insisted that the best way to get over her was to take me on a bender.’ I let lose a hollow laugh at my own naivety. ‘I fooled myself we were finally bonding in a meaningful father-son way rather than the superficial crap of most of my life up to that point.’

  ‘Wasn’t he ever a normal dad?’ she asks, scooting closer, her shoulder pressing against mine in comfort and solidarity.

  ‘If he was, I don’t remember. Sid Coterill is always Slay, always on show. I’m not really sure why he even had a kid, but at least he didn’t knock up all my stepmothers, so that’s something.’

  ‘So did the bender help with the heartbreak?’ she asks.

  I snort, continuing the sordid little tale I wish she didn’t have to know. ‘He took me to an LA strip club, the last place I needed. I was nineteen. Confused, because I was desperate to relate to him somehow, but also reeling from the loss of first love.’

  Neve’s hand squeezes mine.

  ‘I realised he didn’t know me at all. He didn’t care enough to see how I felt. Instead of compassion and genuine connection, he bought me a table full of shots, a lap dance and then passed on one of his most valuable fatherly insights: “Plenty more willing pussy in the world, son”.’

  He’d then proceeded to tell me how my ex wasn’t worth my regret, because she’d made a pass at him on more than one occasion and he’d nobly turned her down, as though he’d done me a favour or something.

  I’d rushed to the bathroom and hurled an evening’s worth of drinks into the toilet, along with any belief that I could trust a woman to want me for me, or that Slay actually cared for anyone but himself.

  Eaten alive by the crippling humiliation, I can’t look at Neve. I don’t want to see horror or pity. But the memories stiffen my resolve. I won’t allow Slay to ruin the one good relationship in my life.

  I face her. ‘I don’t want a man who talks about women that way anywhere near you, the woman I respect most in the world.’

  She’s silent for a few painful beats of my heart. Then she whispers, ‘I’m sorry you had such a crappy role model who didn’t know what an amazing son he has. You’re nothing like him.’

  My gut twists. If only she knew how alike we truly are.

  ‘What did you do after that?’ she asks, and I stiffen. I can’t confess how later that night I executed my revenge on Slay, with his third wife, although my shameful act hurt me more than it seemed to hurt him and still haunts me to this day.

  ‘I moved out of his LA mansion and never went back.’ I tug her into my arms then, squeezing the life from her and burying my nose in her hair so I can suck her comforting scent into my lungs. I can’t fuck up again. I can’t risk losing her, as I surely would if she knew the full story.

  I feel her relax against me, relief shuddering through my frame.

  ‘I’m sorry you had your heart broken,’ she whispers.

  ‘And I’m sorry about dinner.’ I press a kiss to her temple. ‘You never got to try my dessert.’

  For the first time since we crossed the line, she laughs her familiar laugh. ‘You can buy me another one tomorrow,’ she mumbles against my chest and then pushes at my hips to break my hold on her. ‘But we need to follow the rules if we’re going to survive the rest of this holiday and go home still friends. No more discussing the sex.’

  Relief pours through my veins. ‘Okay...’ I say, because I’ll do anything for her. ‘But it’s hard not to discuss such awesome sex.’ My dick twitches in my trousers. I shift my hips so she doesn’t see how turned on I am and think I’m not taking her seriously. That she’s giving me a second chance fuels my blood with adrenaline.

  She wriggles, but I tighten my arm on her waist. I’ve held her before, of course—chaste, brief encounters when she’s been upset or needed solace. But she feels different in my arms. More real. I don’t want to let go, possession adding to her arousing closeness.

  ‘Yes, it was awesome, but now it’s over. And we both need to navigate this new territory.’

  My fingers tense on her back. Everything inside me slows, apart from my uncontrollable galloping pulse. ‘I don’t want to it to be over.’ Because now we’re more than friends.

  I’ve always wanted more. And now, when it’s hard to think of anything but how good we are together and how much I ache for her... There’s no going back to a version of us without this intimacy. Not for me.

  ‘Oliver, let’s be realistic.’ Her eyes cling to mine. ‘We’ll go home and go back to normal. You avoiding relationships and me looking for one.’

  I stare so intently, I feel like my eyes are diamond-cutting lasers. ‘Don’t talk about dating other men when I can still taste you on my tongue. Still hear your cries in my head. Still feel you clamped around my dick.’ The thought that she can easily forget what happened between us and move on to some dating-app jerk leaves me trembling with agitation.

  Her tiny gasp, the excited flare of her eyes, contradicts her next words. ‘We can’t do it again...’

  Despite her caution, I feel the moment excitement grips her, the increased breathing and the softening of her muscles from rigid to slack. She still wants me, and I want to lose myself in her. To relive how good it was this morning, even though every detail is etched into my brain.

  I slowly nod my head, lowering my mouth closer to hers while I keep eye contact. I want her in no doubt of my feelings, and I want to witness her reactions. ‘We definitely can. We were good together. Astounding, in fact. Fuck the rules.’

  She closes her eyes, as if seeking strength. Then she opens them again. ‘Olly—’

  ‘Oliver,’ I interrupt, because I’m not going backward. Not when her eyes dance over my face as if she’s debating where to kiss me first. Not when her lips are right there, soft and inviting. Not when I know how one kiss will tur
n her passionate and demanding.

  ‘I want you more than I did this morning,’ I murmur, my voice low, my mouth so close to hers, one lunge is all it would take to put us out of our misery. ‘I’ve wanted you ever since.’

  My declaration is dangerous because this isn’t an impulse driven by lust. I’ve had all day and the previous nine years to open my eyes and admit this fierce attraction, and I finally feel that if I work hard at it I could be man enough for Neve. Because she’s my priority. There’s no future I envisage or want without her.

  I hold my breath while she says nothing, tension juddering through her small frame with each laboured breath.

  Then, with a sexy little feminine groan, she lurches against me and presses her mouth to mine. Her arms encircle my shoulders and she straddles my lap as we kiss—lips devouring, tongues surging, breath mingling.

  Unlike this morning, when I’d taken control, Neve’s frantic kisses and grabbing hands are more demanding. More desperate.

  Thank fuck, because I’m wild for her, and I was beginning to think I was in this state alone.

  I collapse back onto the sand, my arm around her waist so she’s sprawled over my chest. I slide my hands over her hips then cup her buttocks, pressing her closer to assuage the demands of my aching cock.

  Neve breaks free of the kiss, braces her hands on my biceps and gives me a small shove as she sits up. I like the view of her over me, but I need to hear that she’s with me before I vacate the driving seat.

  ‘Tell me you want more awesome sex too,’ I say. ‘I want to hear it.’

  ‘Yes, I want more. Of course I do,’ she pants out, dropping kiss after kiss to my mouth and then nuzzling my neck in a way that has my hips bucking up between her legs.

  I cup her face while my pulse pounds in the tips of my fingers, scared she’ll feel it on her skin. I need to show her how important she is. How much I value her beyond this physical compulsion, which seems to have gripped us both.

  ‘I’d never do anything to risk losing you. You’re too important. Understand?’ I hate the doubt I saw in her angry eyes earlier. Hate that I was the source. She’s the most important person in my life. And if this was just sex, perhaps I’d find the strength to resist this chemistry, but it’s more than that, more than I ever dreamed or knew was possible.

  Her eyes droop, half-closed, and I feel her tiny nod between my palms.

  She shuffles back and shoves my shirt up, trailing burning hot kisses over my chest. Staring up at me, she flicks her tongue over my pierced nipple. My abs crunch involuntarily and her hips grind on my erection, which is steel against the fly of my trousers. Damn, I want her, and I definitely don’t have a condom.

  ‘Now it’s my turn to explore,’ she says, attacking my fly with determined hands. My cock surges free between the open zip, the relief overwhelming, but reality dawns.

  ‘I don’t have a condom.’ I doubt she does either, given her disappointment with me and her skimpy, pocket-less dress.

  ‘I don’t care.’ She palms my erection, rubbing me through my boxers until I fist the fabric of her dress, which is ruched up over her pale thighs.

  ‘You were so bossy this morning, I never got to put my mouth on you,’ she says, licking her lips as she scoots back onto my thighs so she can tug my trousers and boxers over my hips.

  ‘That’s just the way I am, baby.’ My voice is hoarse with longing, but laced with warning, because if that mouth, those plump lips and perfect Cupid’s bow, gets anywhere near my dick... Game over.

  ‘Mmm?’ She bends close to trail her lips down my rigid stomach as she grips my aching length.

  ‘I’ll come...’ I warn, my brain turning foggy with lust. God, she feels so good and looks even better, her beautiful familiar face slack with desire, her stunning breasts spilling over the top of the low neck of her dress, her hand and stare intent on my favourite appendage.

  ‘Well, that’s the idea.’ She smiles up at me.

  Any further argument evaporates as her hot mouth swallows the head of my cock and I’m there—helpless, craving, on the edge.

  Neve sucks like she’s enjoying a lollipop, her cheeks hollow, and then she releases me to trace the laving tip of her tongue down my shaft.

  The cool night air hits my damp flesh. Dizzy with need, I prop myself up on my elbows, not wanting to miss one single second of this fantasy come true. How many times have I jerked off imagining her mouth on me, the daydream in no way preparing me for the fantastic reality? A reality which only gets better when she grips the base of my cock and takes me back inside the hot haven of her mouth while she moans out her pleasure at the power she wields.

  ‘Touch yourself,’ I bark, because there’s no way I’m coming without her. My hips are already jerking of their own accord, my balls on fire and eyes gritty with the pressure of witnessing every incredible second of her mouth on me.

  She looks up and slips her free hand under her dress between her thighs. I fist her hair; she’s killing me. Could she be any more perfect? Any more addictive? Why did I wait so long to discover this side of her? A side I guessed was there all along but refused to see to keep myself sane.

  But now I can open my eyes. Focus on the way her beautiful lips stretch around me, delivering pleasure so intense, I’m seconds away from decimating my stamina record.

  She smiles around me, actually smiles, looking up at me with such feminine power glowing in her eyes, I release a sort of feral growl. A noise I’ve never made before, like some kind of tortured animal.

  What is she doing to me? Have I ever been this hot for a woman? This incapacitated by need?

  I’m passing the point of no return. The sight of her sucking me while she touches herself, the pressure building in my balls and the heat boiling at the base of my spine watching her own me, glorying in her possession... It’s all too much.

  ‘Neve...’ I cup her face, my thumb swiping her bottom lip stretched around me, my other hand tunnelling into her hair. ‘I’m going to come. I’m warning you.’

  I have no idea if my sweet friend will swallow me or watch me spill over my own stomach. And I don’t care either way; I’m lost to her in this moment. Whatever she wants, fine by me.

  She sinks deeper, sucks harder. Her hand gripping my shaft is her answer. She rubs herself more vigorously, her whimpers telling me she’s close too.

  I’m helpless to stop the cascade of unparalleled pleasure beginning deep in my pelvis, streaks of lava streaming along my length as I empty myself into her mouth with a broken cry.

  She sucks me dry, swallowing every drop, her hand still working furiously between her legs, her hips undulating to her own blissful rhythm. I’m spent, still coming down from the incredible high, but I want to reward her for the best blow job I’ve ever had. When she releases me, I sit up, dragging her close with one arm around her waist so I can kiss her. I slip my hand between her legs, my fingers joining hers to rub over her slick, heated and swollen flesh. I push my tongue into her mouth just as she whimpers out the first crest of her orgasm, kissing her through spasm after spasm of her bucking body.

  Sudden jealousy rages through me, smacking me like a rogue wave. I want to lay claim to all her orgasms. I want to be on hand to deliver all her pleasure now we’ve shared this, and there’s only one way to achieve that goal.

  ‘You’re not sweet at all, are you?’ I press my forehead to hers and scrunch my eyes closed, holding her while she catches her breath.

  ‘No,’ she pants. ‘I’m definitely not.’

  I squeeze her tighter, the beach spinning a little. ‘I love that about you, you bad woman,’ I say, pressing my lips to her temple.

  Yeah, I’d say our friendship as was is pretty much over.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Neve

  I WAVER BETWEEN sleep and wakefulness, emerging from the best dream, desperate to prolong the delirious pleasu
re. Dream Oliver is back, and he’s kissing my naked body, each nipple, my stomach and then between my legs. Hot, sexy open-mouthed kisses...

  I open my eyes, this dream so vivid. I look down, still groggy but rapidly waking with every zap of fire that knifes through me.

  It’s not a dream.

  Oliver is licking me awake. I groan, gasp, my head falling back on the pillow and my thighs parting to accommodate his broad shoulders. Then I look back down, expecting some wisecrack or teasing glint in his breathtaking eyes. But he’s serious, his stare intense, raking over my every reaction to the lashing of his clever tongue.

  I can’t look away from the sight of his mouth on me. The heat in his eyes. The sounds of early-morning paradise beyond the window. My impending orgasm peters out—I’m in deep trouble, addicted to him, to his touch, now that of a lover. The best lover I’ve ever had. No surprises there.

  How will I ever be able to stop craving this, him, when our every kiss, every caress, every intimacy answers a deep longing inside. A deeper connection with a man I already know so well. A complex man with demons and struggles, just like the rest of us. A man with a massive heart he’s too scared to trust.

  Last night at dinner, I thought this was over. Being shut out reminded me of all the reasons I’ve fiercely fought my feelings for him for so long. His past with Slay as a role model, his rejection of serious relationships—he’s not ready to allow someone close yet. Perhaps he never will be.

  My heart spasms, pain pulsing. I don’t want to be his fledgling foray into something beyond sex. I can’t afford to be the test case. I’m ahead of him where relationships are concerned and, after a few hard-learned lessons of my own, I know what I want.

  But he’s still content with casual.

  I need to be careful, oh, so careful to protect my heart. Focussing on the chemistry, the pleasure, helps. Because right now that’s all I can trust. All I can expect.