Accidental Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance

by Sienna Ciles

  “Let me buy you a drink, Stefan!”

  I laughed and, after the third or fourth offer, I finally gave in. “Okay, but I want to stick with beer. Nothing hard,” I told the woman cuddling up to me. “I gotta keep my wits about me to make sure I get you ladies to bid high.” I let one or two women buy me beers and then, pretending to be more reluctant than I was, I told them I needed to finish up and encouraged them all to bid high on the rest of the men.

  I took the stage again and managed to get some of the women to go up to eight hundred, nine hundred, and finally, for Kevin, the last guy I auctioned off, a thousand dollars.

  “I’d pay double for you, Stefan!”

  I shook my head, wagging my finger at the woman in the audience who’d shouted that out.

  Finally, the event itself was over, and I went back out into the crowd of women. Those who’d managed to win the auctions were busy chatting up the men they’d “bought,” which meant that most of the other women were trying to flirt with anyone else they could. As soon as I was available, I had about half a dozen women trying to talk to me at one time, offering to buy me drinks.

  One of them stood out; she was petite, maybe more than a foot smaller than me, in a tight black dress that definitely showed off the length of her legs. “I wish you’d been up for grabs,” she said, looking up at me through thick, long eyelashes.

  “Sorry, beautiful,” I told her, smiling down into her face. “But there were lots of guys up there. Plenty of selection to choose from.”

  “I didn’t bid on any of them,” she told me, shaking her head. “Once I saw you, I just kind of thought, ‘What’s the point? I’ll just be disappointed with anyone else.’”

  “I know all those guys,” I countered. “None of them would disappoint you.”

  “They would have,” she insisted. “Because they wouldn’t have been you.”

  Some of the other women trying to swarm me started to wander off after other men, and the girl and I started chatting. I didn’t bother getting her name; by the time we were talking, it would have been too late to politely ask. As she wriggled and cuddled up to me, telling me how great I was and how much she would have paid for a date with me, I was starting to get a bit turned on.

  “Why don’t we head out for a bit, sweetie?” I definitely wanted to get her away from the rest of the crowd.

  “Well, I don’t want to go far, but I definitely would be happy to get out of this bar,” the woman said, giving me a knowing little grin.

  We ducked out of the bar, me leaving my half-finished beer behind, and we navigated the ground floor of the hotel—the lobby, and everywhere else we could look—until we found a little alcove, set aside from the traffic, not too far away from the bar. It was probably some kind of closet, but I didn’t care in that moment; I had a hot young thing in my arms, pressing her body against mine and pulling my face down to hers to kiss her.

  We started out making out, and I let my hands wander, cupping her breasts through the tight dress she had on, slipping one hand up along her leg, working along her thigh to get under the hem. She moaned against my lips and grinded against me, pressing herself against the hardening ridge at the front of my tux pants. I get my hand up the skirt of her dress and start rubbing her. We weren’t private enough that I wanted to go all the way—not here—but I was getting so turned on that it wouldn’t be long until I didn’t really care.

  I pulled up her dress just over her hips, and somehow the woman—I still felt a little guilty about not getting her name—got my fly open and slipped her hand down my pants. She started stroking me while I played with her. Things got hotter and hotter between us, and in the part of my brain still capable of thinking, I started to wonder if we might be able to get a hotel room.

  “Stacy? Stacy Jacobs, where the hell are you?”

  The woman I was with pulled back with a start, and her eyes went wide. “What?” She giggled quietly and brought the fingers that weren’t wrapped around my erection up to my mouth to press my lips closed.

  “Shh. It’s my dad,” she said.

  “Your dad?” I kept my voice at a whisper. “Fuck. Tell me you’re over eighteen, at least.”

  “Of course,” Stacy said, sounding indignant. “I’ll be twenty-one this August.”

  “You’re twenty?” I pulled back and took my hand out of her skirt.

  “Oh, come on, I’m legal!” she said in a whisper.

  “Barely,” I muttered.

  “Stacy! You were supposed to meet your mother and me for dinner fifteen minutes ago!”

  Stacy smoothed her dress down over her hips and gave me a grin. “I could call you after,” she suggested.

  “No,” I told her. “Thanks for the offer and all, but you’re a bit young for me.”

  She pouted, but her father was still calling for her up and down the hall outside of where we’d hidden ourselves.

  “Go, before he busts in here and tries to shoot me,” I said.

  She slipped out of the closet and I stayed in, covering my mouth with my arm to muffle the groan that left me. I was still painfully hard, but obviously that wasn’t going to get solved anytime too soon.

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  I’d planned on going to bed after my bath, but by the time I got out of the tub, I was feeling wide-awake. I tried playing with Bast, who was in fine form, rushing around the apartment and jumping from the couch to the window sills, from my bed to my dresser. For a while that helped, but eventually, I found myself surprisingly bored.

  I wasn’t about to read the book that had Stefan on the cover, so when I got a text message from my friend Gretchen, I was happy that at least I had something to occupy my mind with for a little while. Becky says you met a cover model today?

  I snickered to myself and sent her the picture I’d taken of the book I’d been reading, with Stefan on the cover. The guy who did the cover for this book, in fact, I told her in my reply.

  Once again, I told her about the situation: I was delivering flowers, I knew it was him because of the tattoo, all that. Gretchen was more excited than Becky had been, which helped things, and she told me that she was bored, hanging out with some of her coworkers at an after-hours office party.

  I’m probably going to make it an early night. We’re all still on for tomorrow night, right?

  I replied that we were, and that I was definitely looking forward to it. I thought about Stefan giving me his phone number and inviting me to call him, to join him and his friends if I didn’t feel like going through with girls’ night. I had to admit a tiny part of me was tempted, just for the sake of the story, if I hadn’t put so much stock in my plans with Becky and Gretchen.

  We kept texting back and forth for a while, with Gretchen filling me in on which of her coworkers were acting like drunken fools, which of them were clearly already too far gone to be still at the party, and me telling her about the episode of Merlin that had come on. See, why can’t I end up with a guy like Lancelot? Where are all the Lancelots of the world?

  Gretchen sent me a string of laughing emojis in response to that and pointed out that Lancelot was just as fictional as any of my “book boyfriends.”

  Oh, shit! He’s here, Gretchen wrote me. I almost asked which he she meant, but then I remembered: Gretchen had been chasing one of her coworkers for a while, and he’d had a girlfriend until fairly recently, which had only inspired her to increase her aggressiveness in flirting with him. I knew that from that point on she wouldn’t be answering her texts; she’d be too busy making herself as irresistible, funny, and charming as possible.

  I decided to go to bed, and Bast followed me, tired enough after playing again that she was perfectly happy to curl up at my feet. I closed my eyes and tossed and turned for a bit, but then, somewhere between thinking about the bills I needed to pay in the next week, about the groceries I wanted to buy, and the snacks I might get for me, Becky, and Gretchen to enjoy if our night out got too rowdy, I fell asleep.

&nb
sp; * * * * *

  I woke up to the feeling of someone on top of me, a lingering caress over my arms, along to my waist. At first, I flailed a bit. I hadn’t had anyone but Bast in the bed with me for a few years. Then someone shushed me, and somehow, it didn’t scare me. I opened my eyes and saw Stefan looking down at me, grinning that smug, self-confident smile. But in the moment, it wasn’t annoying; it was kind of hot.

  “Don’t tell me you already forgot about last night?” Stefan nuzzled his stubble-rough cheek against mine, and I felt myself blushing.

  “I might have,” I told him, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “Oh, I can’t have that,” Stefan said. “I guess I’ll have to remind you.” He kissed me then, and I found myself wrapping my arms around his broad, lean shoulders without even thinking about it, only just then realizing that I was already naked. I kissed him back hungrily, gasping when he nibbled at my bottom lip, moaning softly against his mouth as one of Stefan’s hands slipped down between my legs. I was already wet, and as I felt him beginning to stroke me, lightly, I got the tight feeling deep down between my hips.

  I couldn’t remember ever being so turned on in my life, as things began to heat up with me and Stefan. Bits and pieces of “last night” flitted through my head as Stefan and I moved together, kissing each other’s lips, dipping down to each other’s necks. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night, feeling lonely, and I’d found his number on the receipt and called him. He’d come over, and then somehow, we’d ended up sleeping together.

  I couldn’t even feel bad about it—about the lack of dignity in me making a booty call—as Stefan slithered down my body slightly, kissing the tops of my breasts before bringing his lips down to claim one of my nipples, sucking and licking it eagerly. I moaned out, gripping Stefan’s shoulders, and twisting and writhing underneath him as he worked me with his fingers, rubbing my pleasure center while he worshipped my breasts with his mouth.

  I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t stand the thought that it was so close but not actually inside of me. “Can we move on to the main event?”

  “Impatient, aren’t we?” Stefan broke away from his attentions to my breasts and kissed me again, shifting down between my thighs. He rocked his hips against mine, and I felt the thickness of him rubbing against me, sending little jolts of sensation through my body. I wanted him so, so badly. Of course, he’s a tease, I thought irritably, pushing my hips down to meet his movements, trying to almost trick him into actually thrusting inside of me, instead of rubbing against me.

  “Stop teasing!” I said, twisting my hips to try and get better contact, to try and get what I wanted.

  “Tell me you want it,” Stefan countered.

  “You know I do,” I protested.

  “Yeah, but I want to hear it,” he said.

  I was not going to give him what he wanted. I did have some pride. I tried to tease him right back, but it was just turning me on more and more. I tried to hold back, but after what felt like an eternity, I just couldn’t withstand the need to feel him inside of me.

  “Please, Stefan,” I murmured.

  “Since you asked so nicely, I guess I can take that,” Stefan replied, and I felt him shift against me. I moaned, knowing that in a matter of seconds, I’d feel him filling me up.

  And then, all at once, I woke up with a start, almost falling off of the edge of my bed. “What the hell?” I managed to stay on my bed and heard my phone ringing from the next room. “Ugh. What time is it?”

  I looked up to see that it was eight in the morning and groaned again. If Nora is going to try and talk me into coming in... or if Sabrina wants me to cover her shift… I stumbled out of bed and padded into the living room, finding where I’d plugged in my phone from the night before. It wasn’t anyone from work; it was Gretchen.

  “What the hell are you doing up so early?” I asked, as soon as the line connected.

  “I’m almost in the elevator at your place,” she replied. “I’m coming up.” I almost told her not to bother and thought about asking her what the hell she thought she was doing, dropping by so early.

  “Aren’t you hungover from the party?”

  “Yep,” Gretchen said, but she sounded shockingly cheerful. “I brought coffee and bagels. Be there in a minute.”

  The call cut out, and I resigned myself to getting up early instead of sleeping in. I checked Bast’s food bowl and gave her some more kibble, and pulled my hair back into a quick, messy bun, and then Gretchen was knocking at my door.

  “You are lucky that you brought an offering with you,” I told her as I let her in. Sure enough, she had a big, brown paper bag from Goldberg’s Bagels, and the smell of the coffee she’d brought was enough to appease my irritability at being pulled out of my sleep. I could still feel the damp sensation between my legs and couldn’t fully believe I’d actually had a dream about hooking up with Stefan.

  “I figured if I was going to roust you out of bed on your day off, I would need to bring something to quell your rage,” Gretchen said. She set the sack of bagels down on my table and ripped it open, revealing not just some everything bagels and some cinnamon-raisin ones as well, but a couple of tubs of cream cheese. I took the coffee from her and brought it with me into the kitchen. I doctored the hot, dark black coffee with milk and sugar just the way Gretchen and I both liked it, grabbed a bread knife, and then we both sat down.

  Gretchen was looking a bit rough—her hair was in a sloppy ponytail that didn’t quite cover up the fact that she hadn’t brushed it, and her mascara looked a little smudgy, like she hadn’t managed to get it all off.

  “So, how did things go with him?” I sipped my coffee, and Gretchen and I both chose bagels, switching off on using the bread knife to cut them.

  She got up and grabbed a couple of butter knives from my kitchen. “It went really well,” she said, launching into what I knew would be yet another thrilling story about her flirtations with David. I listened to her while I applied plain cream cheese to my cinnamon-raisin bagel and chuckled along with her story at the right parts.

  “Sounds like a promising shift in the dynamic,” I said, once she finished. I took a bite of my bagel, and Gretchen started in on hers as well, and asked me for more details that I hadn’t given her the night before about the guy from the romance novel cover.

  “I mean, I get how you knew it was him, but like, did you ask him or anything?”

  “I asked him if he did modeling,” I admitted. “I couldn’t just flat out ask him if he did romance novel covers, could I?”

  Gretchen grinned. “You could have screeched and gone, ‘Oh, my god, you’re the guy from—’ What did you say the name of the book was?”

  “I was not going to do that in a million years,” I told her tartly.

  “So, did he admit to modeling?” .

  “He made some comment about how people use his body for a lot of things,” I said. “And gave me one of those hot-guy smiles. You know?”

  “Oh, god, that smirking thing they do when they know they look good? Ugh,” Gretchen said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “He even asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with him tonight,” I told her, which I didn’t think I’d told Becky about.

  “You should have taken him up on it,” Gretchen said.

  I shook my head, rolling my eyes. “Even if we didn’t have plans for tonight, I wouldn’t have gone out with him. He was just such—such an ass, you know?”

  “Well, he’s hot, and he was obviously at least a little bit into you, so why not? A free meal and maybe drinks and a tumble in the sheets? You could put up with an arrogant jerk for one night in exchange for that.”

  I laughed. “No, I have slightly higher standards than that, Gretch.”

  “Still, it would at least have made a good story,” she insisted.

  “But then I’d be leaving you and Becky high and dry,” I pointed out.

  Gretchen looked down at
her bagel. “Actually... you’d just be leaving Becky high and dry.”

  “What?” I stared at her and she glanced up long enough to see the shock on my face.

  “David asked me out to dinner tonight,” Gretchen told me. “I know we promised we were going to do the single lady thing, but I’ve been after him for months, Emma.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “Come on, Gretchen. Seriously?”

  “What else was I supposed to say? What if he decided I wasn’t serious about wanting to be with him?”

  “If he isn’t serious enough about you to accept that you already had plans on Valentine’s—”

  “I told him I didn’t,” Gretchen said, blushing.

  I stared at her for a moment. “Well, in that case, thanks for at least giving me a heads up that you’re ditching me.” I might not have felt so irritable if it weren’t so early, and if I hadn’t had a stupid sex dream about the hot-but-arrogant Stefan.

  “You know how much I want to be with David,” Gretchen said, her voice pleading. “I’d hoped you’d understand.”

  “I understand,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. I took a deep breath. “You know, I did go to kind of a lot of trouble for the pre-game.”

  “I can stay for a while,” Gretchen told me. “Besides, we need to eat all these bagels, right?”

  I laughed, and some of my disappointment evaporated. “We’ll eat ourselves sick on bagels, take a nap watching a slasher fic, and then start pregaming for when Becky gets here,” I suggested.

  “Yes! Oh, my god, that sounds perfect,” Gretchen said. “I could use a nap.”

  “Yeah you look like it,” I told her. “And a shower, and some fresh clothes. You’ve got a walk of shame vibe going on right now.”

  “I didn’t sleep with him last night,” Gretchen insisted tartly. “But I probably will tonight.”

  “Well, one of us might as well get lucky,” I said and raised my coffee cup to clink it against hers.