Metal & Lace (An Opposites Attract Novel Book 1)

by Black, Lena

  “Have you been here the whole time?” I ask, eyeing him.

  “I may have been.” He shrugs.

  “Well, that’s very serial killer of you.” I smirk at him.

  He swaggers over to me, leaning his weight onto the mattress until his face is inches from mine. “Yeah, and if you were my victim, you’d be fucked.”

  “I think I’m fucked either way,” I mumble, suddenly breathless.

  “You have no idea how right you are.” He moves in to kiss me, but I shove my palm over his mouth.

  “Oh, no.” I shake my head. “Where the hell have you been?”

  He moves my hand from his face. “I’ve been busy, baby doll.”

  “Yeah? Busy doing who?”

  He chuckles. “Just my hand.” I cock my brow at him. “Ah, come on, baby. We’re just having a good time. What’s the problem?”

  “You can’t just disappear. If you don’t want to see me for a few days, at least give the courtesy of a phone call or even a text.”

  “Aw, were you worried, baby?”

  “Would you stop calling me baby?” I cross my arms and scowl, annoyed that he isn’t taking me seriously.

  He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his thumb across my cheek. “You know you love it. And, I don’t know what you think is going on between us, but you’re taking this all way too seriously. We’re supposed to be having fun. I haven’t even had that sweet pussy yet.”

  “Maybe your other girls are used to you vanishing for periods of time, but I don’t like it. If you want the privilege of being inside me, you can at least show me some kind of respect. It’s the very least you can do.”

  “Privilege, is it?” He sounds snarky, which irritates me further.

  “Yes,” I snap. “It’s a privilege when a woman decides to allow you into herself. Any woman, not just me, we deserve respect for that gift.”

  He stares at me, as if he doesn’t quite understand what I mean. How could he? When women throw themselves at him left and right. He’s so oversaturated in sex he doesn’t even realize it’s supposed to mean something. It’s supposed to be a connection between two people.

  “What do you want from me, Lace? I’m not that guy.”

  “You’re not the guy who respects a woman?” I huff. “Then maybe you should leave. I’m not just going to be something you use to get your dick wet. I mean, you probably couldn’t even wait until my plane left to fuck Callie.”

  “You said you wanted nothing to do with me. I did nothing wrong.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, Gunnar.”

  “Baby…” He reaches up to touch my face, but I turn away from him.

  “Please leave,” I whisper, my voice feeble from the angry tears floating behind my eyes.

  He hesitates before rising off the bed. I can feel his eyes sear into the side of my face, but I refuse to let him see me cry. I won’t show him my weaknesses. He turns and exits my room, shutting the door softly behind him.

  I sit on the end of my bed, holding my cell in my hand, considering pressing the send button. I stare at Callie’s name displayed on the screen, knowing she’ll be down for whatever. And, I mean whatever.

  I hadn’t expected tonight to go down like it did. Now I’m left with a raging boner, straining against the zipper of my jeans. So, I have two options. I call Callie for a night of debauched, meaningless sex, the same sex Lace clearly isn’t looking for…Or, I can spank the monkey using old faithful.

  I glimpse back down at the screen of my phone then toss it on my bed, raising my right hand in front of my face.

  “Looks like it’s you and me tonight, buddy.”

  “What happened with Gunnar the other night?” Gwen inquires as we head to lunch with my mother.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I mumble, staring out the cab window.

  “Don’t play that shit with me, Lacey Cummings.” She pokes me in the arm to get my attention. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “He acted like a jerk,” I shrug, “so I kicked his ass out.”

  “What did he do?” Her brow wrinkles with curiosity.

  “He didn’t call me for three days then I came home and found this mixtape thing from him…”

  “He made you a mixtape? How sweet,” she coos.

  “Of sorts…Anyway, he just came in to my room and thought he would just fuck me without so much as an explanation.”

  “Well…” She teeters her head from side to side, as if weighing out options.

  “Well,” I mimic the gesture, “what?”

  “Well, Lacey, I mean, you guys are just screwing, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  She turns toward me, as she usually does when she’s about to smack me with the truth. “Could it be that you like him and want more?”

  “Are you crazy?” I peer at her, as if she really were fucking nuts. “Could you imagine what my mother would say if I brought Gunnar home? Plus, he is so not the marrying type. It could never go anywhere.”

  “You know, that’s exactly what the heroine says before she finds her happily ever after.” She smirks at me smugly.

  “This is not a book, Gwen. This is my life, and there’s no such thing as happy endings. Besides, I never liked that. The end is truly the beginning. They just never show you the part where reality sets in.”

  “Wow!” She feigns shock. “Where is this coming from? Grumpy Lacey.” She sighs. “Fine. Then maybe you’ll have your happy beginning.”

  “Maybe,” I mumble, staring back out the window, focusing on the crowded streets of Manhattan.

  We arrive at the new, posh restaurant, finding my mother already seated. She’s wearing her pastel pink vintage Chanel dress suit with black trim, her dark red hair perfectly upswept in a French twist. We look and act nothing alike. I’m more like my father’s side of the family. I swear. Sometimes I wonder if we’re even related.

  “Hello, Mother,” I greet as we make it to the table.

  She looks up at me, giving me the usual, scrutinizing onceover before commenting, “That dress really doesn’t flatter your figure, Lacey. You should have worn the blue one I sent you last week.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Mother.”

  Gwen shoots me a look like I just poked the bear in the cage. “Hello, Cassandra. It’s good to see you again,” she addresses my mother with her best dazzling grin. She uses it when she does go-sees with designers and others in the industry.

  “Good afternoon, Gwendolyn.” She puckers her lips. My mother knows how much she hates her proper name, but she insists on referring to her by it every time.

  We sit, picking up our menus and skimming through them, avoiding more awkwardness than absolutely necessary.

  “I already ordered the duck with a nice salad,” my mother informs us. She always does this. She knows I detest duck. It’s far too greasy.

  “Thank you, Mother,” I murmur, but you can hear it’s anything but genuine. “It sounds delicious.”

  The waiter walks up to our table, pouring each of us a glass of Pinot Noir.

  “Have you heard any word from Holden?” Cassandra asks, barely giving me a chance to settle before going for the throat, shooing off the waiter. She can be very inconsiderate of those in the service industry.

  “No, I haven’t.” I take a long breath. “I left him, Mother. I don’t think I will hear from him again.”

  “You never know.” She swirls the wine in her glass, taking a sip and holding it in her mouth for a second before swallowing. “He could come to his senses and try to get you back.”

  She can’t be serious.

  “Mother, I don’t want him to come to his senses,” I state.

  “You don’t mean that.” She shakes her head, completely dismissing what I want. “You’re hurt, but that will pass.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Gwen agrees, attempting to appease her and get her off my back. “Or, she could meet someone even better.”

  I narrow my eyes at her
.

  “As long as it isn’t one of those animals you write about.” I shoot a side-glance to my big-mouthed friend, wishing she hadn’t mentioned that second part. “I think I would just about die of humiliation.”

  Well, there goes any chance of meeting the parents. Just as well he makes his exit stage left, than wait for the inevitable.

  I slump back in my seat, already drained.

  “Could that have gone any worse?” Gwen asks, kicking her heels off. “Oh mama. That feels good.”

  “What are you talking about? That was fabulous compared to other visits.”

  “Jesus, Lacey,” she utters, sitting on the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table. “Why do you put up with that?”

  “She’s my mom.” I drop my bag and head into the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge. Walking over to her on the couch, I hand one to her then plop down next to her. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You tell her to let you live your own life and stop interfering.” She twists off the cap, tossing it on the table, and takes a big swill of beer.

  “I couldn’t do that.” I sigh. “We’re all each other has.”

  “Wanna go out tonight and blow off some steam?” she asks, cracking her neck with a sharp tilt of her head.

  “Mm, no, I can’t. At least for pleasure anyway. I have to go watch this band’s show.”

  “Oh!” She lights up. “That could be fun.”

  “You want to come with?”

  “Um…yeah!”

  “Alright, well. The curtain goes up at nine. So, we should be out of here by eight-thirty by the latest.”

  “Woohoo!” She slams her bottle on the table and jumps up, bolting for her bedroom down the hall.

  “Please, remember this is still work for me,” I warn.

  She stops, glimpsing back at me with a wicked grin. “Oh, sure, of course.”

  “Holy fuck! They’re awful!” Gwen yells over the noise. “Like dying cats!”

  I chuckle.

  I have to agree. They’re flipping terrible. This was not going to be a fun review to write. Hopefully, they don’t pull a Gunnar.

  “We’ll get out of here soon!” I scream back.

  She nods, letting me know she heard me, then takes a swig of her drink.

  The song starts to wind down and then the singer says, “We are Death Stroke. Goodnight, New York!”

  “They make me want to have a stroke,” she comments and giggles.

  “Harsh.” I shake my head at her and she shrugs. “I have to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

  “Are you sure you should do that? You haven’t had a malaria shot.”

  I laugh as I walk toward the stairs leading down to the restrooms.

  I head back upstairs, making it to the top when someone snags my hand, grabbing my attention. I glance over my shoulder, spotting the tatted hand gripping onto mine just as Gunn emerges from a shadowy corner. I want to jump into his arms, hug him close to me, but the last time we saw each other keeps me frozen in place.

  “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

  “No, Lace, I’m not following you. I think I have better things to do than stalk you.” He pulls me into the shadows, pressing me against the wall. “I saw you earlier, but I wanted to wait until you were alone.”

  “Why, so you can corner me like an animal?”

  “Look, baby, I know you’re pissed with me. But I think you’re getting this whole situation confused.”

  “Oh, I have to hear this. I would love to hear how asking for a tiny bit of respect is me getting the situation confused. You can’t waltz into my life, screw me up, and waltz back out. I don’t deserve to be treated like a common whore.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m just used to a certain type of woman.”

  “Easy.”

  “Yes, easy, at my beck and call.” A cocky smirk creeps over his face. “So, I screw you up, huh?”

  He wraps his arms about my waist, pressing me into him.

  “Don’t change the subject,” I grumble and yank his beard.

  “What can I say? I fucked up. Can we just start over?”

  “Why do you want me so bad?”

  “I don’t know, Lace.” He lets out a harsh breath, tilting his head down and shutting his eyes. He seems to be contemplating this question, the muscles of his jaw contracting under the coarse hair of his beard. Then they open again, staring up at me with a spine-chilling look. “I just know I can’t let you go.”

  My heart melts into a puddle, my whole body warming and tingling.

  “Gunnar,” I whisper on an exhale.

  Before I can think about it too much, he covers my mouth with his, claiming it with a rough eagerness. His hands cup the sides of my face, pulling me into his kiss harder, swelling my lips from the friction. Shoving his tongue deep inside with a moan, he takes my mouth like no one has before, as if he craves me with everything he is and will ever be.

  I grip onto his beard, holding him to me. He growls against my lips before nipping at the bottom one, taking it between his teeth just long enough to make me yelp. I giggle into his mouth and he smiles in return, amused by my reaction to his stinging touch.

  He releases me and takes a step back, stretching his hand to me. “You with me, baby?”

  For some reason, my mom’s words from lunch ring through my head, like nails on a chalkboard. “As long as it isn’t one of those animals you write about…I think I would just about die of humiliation.”

  I abandon the thought and take hold of his hand, smiling up at him. “Yeah, I’m with you, Gunn.”

  Once we drop her friend off at their apartment, we head downtown towards my loft in my sixty-nine matte black Camaro SS. It’s fucking cherry.

  As we drive, I notice that darn pesky skirt of her nearly skintight hot pink dress has crept up her thighs again, just shy of her crotch. I can’t help wonder if she’s wearing a pair of those sexy little white panties.

  I think the fact that I still haven’t gotten into those panties only worsens my attraction to her. Most girls would have already rolled over onto their back for me. But not her, not my Lace.

  My Lace. That’s a risky notion.

  I know I can’t wait for her any longer. I have to have her tonight or I think I’ll explode from constant blue balls. I need inside that delicious pussy.

  “I’m going to fuck you tonight, Lace,” I state with a rumble in my chest. “I fucking need you, baby.”

  She nods her head in agreement, her milky thighs rubbing together under the skirt of her short floral dress, distracting me from the road. Before positioning my eyes forward, I sneak a quick peek at her white panties, my cock becoming instantly hard, like granite. I take one hand off the wheel, shoving it between her warm thighs and spreading them apart. She adjusts her skirt around her waist and widens them further, giving me approval. I shift her underwear to the side. Tucking my middle and pointer finger inside the folds, I feel her warmth surround the tips, wet with her arousal. I run them along the split, coating her in her juices, rubbing against her clit with elongated movements. Once she’s ready, I hone in on the little knot, flicking it. She must enjoy it cause her thighs clamp shut and she moans, grinding into my touch, her hand moving over mine.

  “I can’t wait to try you on,” I murmur under my breath, sliding a finger inside her tight hole. “You’ll be a perfect fit.”

  We chaotically bump into furniture in the darkness, knocking over objects in the process, our mouths wildly attacking each other. My hands gripping onto her ass, I slam her against the wall of my bedroom with a loud thud, roughly trailing my lips down her neck, across her collarbone, and back up the other side. Moaning, she fists hers into my hair, yanking roughly when I hit the right spot. Her back arcs and her breasts press into my pecs. My mouth moves back to hers. Open and wanting, they meet in a chaotic, reckless kiss, bordering on violent.

  Absent of sense and breath, she gasps sharply against my mouth when my teet
h clamp down on her plump bottom lip. Tugging, I suck on it, stretching it out until it’s taut, and let it snap back. Relentlessly attacking her mouth, I grab at her dress, flush against the subtle curves of her lean body. I tear myself away, reach into my back pocket, and retrieve a knife, flipping it open. Her eyes flash and she jumps at the loud click it makes. I smirk at her, grabbing the hem of her skirt and wrenching it toward me. It gives just enough to slip the blade underneath, shredding it in two. Drawing the razor-sharp edge toward me so I don’t cut her, I slowly guide it up the front of her dress, slicing through it like paper until it falls open, revealing her cock-hardening body.

  She isn’t wearing a fucking bra, just those tiny white panties. All that keeps me from getting inside that flawless pussy is a barely-there rectangle of thin fabric. I grip one side and slash through it, repeating with the other. They fall limp, and I rip them away, exposing the taut slit tucked away between those thighs.

  I lick my lips, the memory of her pussy on my tongue, flooding my taste buds with its delicious juices. My cock twitches and strains against my jeans, swelling until it feels like it’ll rocket off.

  With a groan buried deep in my chest, I clasp my hands firmly onto her ass, lifting her into me. She grips my shoulders and tightens her thighs against my waist. Breathlessly, she looks into my eyes, searching them, and I press my mouth into hers, kissing her rough as I walk us over to my bed, falling onto it.

  I groan, aggressively kissing her lips, jaw, neck, her fingers lacing in my hair. We grind into each other, squirming from the building anticipation. My hands roam, familiarizing me with the outline of her body, memorizing every rise and fall. Writhing under my gluttonous touch, her body reaches for me, bending and twisting into mine.

  “Gunnar,” she breathes, her head falling back onto the mattress, digging into the comforter.

  I slide out from between her legs, clasp her ankles, and flip her over onto her stomach, giving her ass a quick smack.