“Damn, sorry. Must be the dryness in the air.” He clears his throat. The hipster behind us whines for us to move up, so we do. But instead of staying behind me, he steps next to me. “So, what’s your usual here?”
Oh, now we’re buds? Gonna chat about sports teams and favorite coffee recipes? I’m still trying to gather my bearings when it’s our turn to order.
“What can I get you two?” the barista asks, and I almost request my sanity back.
“I’ll take a coffee, black. She’ll have a vanilla latte—skim milk, no whipped cream.”
How the…? “How—How did you know what I like?” He’s an alien. That’s the only reasonable answer.
“I just pinged you as a sweet drinker. Loves her sugar but still manages to watch her calories.” His smile is infectious. I want to reply with how creepy that is, but I find it cute.
Did I just say cute?
Get it together. He’s not cute. Hot. Sexy. Bad boy material.
Internally slaps self.
“My turn? Black coffee, I’m assuming to match your soul?”
I thought his smile did funny things to me, but his laughter is like an aphrodisiac to my soul. “Something like that.” When our order is ready, he grabs both, and I follow him to a small table, leaving us to sit super close. His legs extend under the table, brushing against mine. There’s no hiding this attraction. Whether we want to admit it or not, it’s there. I wonder at the change in him. He seemed pretty set on being a jerk, and I was okay with hating him. But now, sitting across from him, I want nothing more than to see what his intentions are.
“Sorry I was an asshole.”
“And?” He’s not getting away that easily.
He grumbles, and it’s obvious he’s not one to apologize. “Sorry for being an asshole and…being an asshole. What do you want me to say? I sure as hell ain’t apologizing for kissing you.”
I phew internally.
Keeping my game face in place, I say, “How about for all the mean things you said to me?”
“How about calling my dick tiny?” he fights back.
“You called me a swallow—”
“Your profile said it! How was I supposed to know—know if it was true or not? Is it?”
I’m about to slap him! “No! Listen, this was a bad idea.” I move to stand, but he grabs my hand.
“Sit down…please. I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a swallower. Unless you are. But I wouldn’t know unless…shit, I don’t know how to do this shit.”
I never expected him to be the nervous one. He seems so sure of himself, and right now, he’s got his tail between his legs. I’m kind of loving it. I reclaim my seat. “It’s fine. For what it’s worth, that profile is fake. My friends made it up to help me get some action. Some shit happened in my life, and they thought doing that would fix all my problems. You caught me in a vulnerable situation, and maybe I was a bit harsh too.”
I guess the apology is happening after all. My eyes travel down to our still joined hands. He catches my meaning and releases me.
Boo…
“So, what now?”
He shrugs, gaining back some of his composure. “We see if we can stand each other long enough to finish our drinks. If we survive, then we try lunch. Or dinner. I’m not hopeful. But I’m willing to give you a chance.”
What an asshole. Cute. Sexy. Kind of funny. Asshole.
“Fine. I’ll do my best to stomach you. If that happens, which is doubtful, then lunch.”
We both nod and go for our coffees.
This is going to be interesting.
Chapter 8
Fuck hookup apps
Lukas
One week later…
Why won’t she ditch that fucking app?
I made a bold move. I won’t use the word stalk, but dammit, I had to do something. She sent Dallas…well, me a message, throwing down the gauntlet. She wants to meet. Which means sex. How does she want to have sex with that fucker! That fucker is you. I’m jealous of my damn self. She’s so easy going with him, but she’s rigid and cold whenever we come into contact—and it pisses me the fuck off. So, I did what I had to do: I showed up at the coffee café, knowing she goes there every morning and played the part.
I got her to accept my truce. We spent almost three hours talking. Not once in my entire existence have I spent so much time with a woman doing that. Sex? I show up for sex. That’s on the agenda. No doubt. I will have her in my bed, fucking the life out of her, but I need her to stop thinking about me. Well…fake me.
We made it through coffee and lunch, which turned into dinner the next night and lunch the day after that. And like a big ol’ pussy, I didn’t want the dates to end. This thing we were starting? Yeah, it was a done deal. We exchanged numbers. It allowed me to chat with her freely, which I found myself doing a lot. The problem was she was still chatting with the other, fake me. I had to get rid of Dallas. He was killing my vibe. She was this sweet, quirky girl with Dallas and this cheeky spitfire with me. And I was struggling to remember who I was supposed to be.
We spent the week playing cat and mouse, flirting like teenagers with our back and forth banter. I got almost giggly and shit whenever my phone would ding, but when it was for him, it was like a kick to the balls.
There was only one solution: get rid of Dallas and claim her as my own. He had served his purpose. Thanks, pal. But I don’t share. Even if it’s with myself.
I look at the time. She’s going to be here soon to watch football. I ignore the bullshit texts from the guys, pissed I’m blowing off our Sunday Funday, and silence my phone. A knock on the door has me checking the plethora of snacks I picked up before answering.
“Are those wings I smell?” She walks in looking fucking delicious—minus her tacky Chiefs jersey. I have to force myself not to throw her against the wall and maul her.
“My wings. I got you some stale chips.” She takes a swing at me, nailing me in the gut with her purse, and walks farther into my place.
“Asshole,” she snickers, dropping her bag on the table. “Nice place. Does your mom live with you?” That fucking smart mouth. I spank her ass, and she yips, jumping up and backing away, allowing me a second to adjust my hardening dick.
“Yeah, I told her you were into pussy, so she’s waiting for you in the bedroom. Said you have a nasty tongue, so be gentle with her.”
Like magic, she sticks her tongue out at me and makes herself comfortable on my couch. Damn, she looks good on it.
This is how it’s been.
Our banter is nonstop. And I fucking love it. I don’t have to sweet-talk her to make her laugh. She actually appreciates my asshole side. Probably because she gets her dose of sweet from Dallas. That prick.
I throw myself down on the couch next to her, close enough that our thighs touch. “Ready to watch your team choke?”
“Pfft…the Cowboys probably won’t even score the first half. I’ll be so bored watching my team slay yours, I may take your mom up on her offer.”
I regret making the joke because jealousy swarms in my gut at any tongue but mine touching her. And why would I make a joke about my mom? Idiot. This is why I don’t do this shit. Sex. I do sex.
Until her.
“All right, priss mouth. You’re so sure about your team, let’s make a bet. Every time your team scores, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Every time my team scores, you strip.”
Her brows perk at my suggestion. She stares at me, debating. “You know what? Deal. I have faith in my team. Better hope the tiny dick tale isn’t true because we’re about to find out when you end up buck naked next to me.”
I stick my hand out, and we shake on it. “Deal. But I wouldn’t be too sure, princess. I’ll be introduced to your granny panties by the second half.”
We both grab a beer from the coffee table, twist the cap, and cheers.
It’s on.
Chapter 9
Definitely didn’t see that score coming
Melani
e
“Get the fuck out of here! Throw a flag!”
I buckle over laughing while Lukas spits at the television. “Told you the Cowboys suck.” I cover my smiling lips with my beer bottle.
“They don’t suck. They have shitty refs. That was clearly pass interference.”
“Sure, pal. Whatever you say.” With his shitty team who can’t catch the ball, my team made an interception for a touchdown. “You know what to do, pretty boy.” I wave my index finger around, signaling it’s time.
He stares back at me.
I’ve only lost my jeans, so I’m chilling in my cute cheekies and jersey. Normally I’d feel a little insecure hanging out in my underwear, but the six beers have made me quite comfortable.
On the other hand, Lukas has lost his pants and socks—which I thought was a total cop-out, but since we didn’t lay down rules beforehand, I allowed it. And if it matters, he’s a boxer briefs kind of guy.
“This is bullshit.”
“Your game. Come on. We don’t have all day.”
I sip on my beer as he obliges. When his jersey is up and over his head, exposing a chest full of muscle and more muscle, I choke on my beer.
He pulls his jersey back down. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
“Yeah, beer’s stale. Keep going.” Lord all mighty, if he stops again, I’m going to rip it off for him with my teeth. I knew he was stacked. His arms are made of stone, so I could only assume his chest would be too. But this is way better than I could have imagined. My fingers tighten around my beer so I don’t reach out and touch him. Even though I want to jump him. God! I’ve been so horny all week. Lukas brings out this wild feline in me, and I just want to maul him. Lick him up and down like a warm glass of milk. And sitting here, buzzed and half-clothed, I’m not sure I’ll make it through this game without attacking him.
Once the jersey goes flying across the room, I force myself to focus on the TV. My legs start this nervous tap, and I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. Stay put. Do not engage.
The TV suddenly switches to another channel, and a home cooking network starts teaching us how to make chicken pot pies. “Dude, the game!” I snap.
“Shit, where’s the remote?”
“I don’t know.” We both search around.
“Oh, I know…I normally put it…” He reaches over me, pecs rubbing against my chest, and sticks his hand into the couch. My jersey is too thick for him to feel my hard nipples, right? “I normally jam it in here…” Please, oh please, do I want him to jam something else somewhere. “It’s just…normally…”
His eyes catch mine, and that livewire? Yeah, it finally lashes out and zaps the crap out of us both. The remote and game become a distant memory as he suddenly crushes his mouth over mine.
I wouldn’t argue if someone just told me it was the Fourth of July. Sparks burst all around us. His hand slips under my jersey, and I grab at his shoulders. A deep grunt resonates up his throat when I dig my nails into his flesh at the feel of his erection against my belly. We can’t get close enough. A shiver ripples through me as his tongue slips into my mouth, colliding with mine in a savage dance.
“Shit, you feel good,” he groans, taking my mouth deeper. I moan when his hand cups my breast. Suddenly, he repositions me on his lap. Our lips fuse back in place, and his hand reaches around to unsnap my bra.
Just as quickly, my jersey is pushed up my chest.
“Your team didn’t score,” I mumble through our kiss.
“Oh, I’m about to score all right.” He rips away from my swollen lips only to tug my bra to the side and wrap his mouth around my nipple. He sucks to the brink of pain, and I throw my head back, letting out a pleasurable moan.
“This is cheating,” I pant, gripping his hair.
“I’ve never been known to play fair.” He lets go of my nipple, then moves to devour my other one. I’m just as guilty of cheating because I find myself grinding against his erection.
“Fuck, don’t do that.” He grabs for my hips, digging into my skin. Instead of stopping me, he thrusts my hips back and forth along his length.
“I thought you told me to stop.”
“Yeah, because you feel too fucking good. When I come, it’s going to be in your sweet pussy, not my fucking pants.”
God, that sounds irresponsible, yet super freaking hot. Especially when I grind against his cock and can confirm he has to be a million inches long. Not to mention wide.
His hands slide down my hips to cup my ass, and no doubt, I’m in the same compromising situation. I’m going to orgasm. I’m about to suggest we slow down when he flips me around, laying down with my back against his couch. His luscious body covers mine before—
Oh God, he’s going down!
It’s been over a century since a guy ventured down there. Not that I don’t keep it pristine, it’s just what if…
“Lukas.”
“I’m celebrating early. Team win bonus.”
Jesus. “There’s no way the Cowboys wi—shit.”
He rips my panties off, and like a magician, he starts doing magical things with his magical tongue—aaaand that’s a finger! I squeeze my eyes tight, enjoying the ride. Holy hell, why have I gone so long without this? No willing applicants. Oh, yeah. Tad probably couldn’t figure out his way around a vagina with a map. “Ohhh, fuck.” Two fingers.
“Oh, I plan on it, princess.” He pumps into me, his tongue like a magical wand hitting all the right places. I want to play it cool, but I’m a lit firecracker ready to detonate. With every swipe of his tongue, my wick burns brighter, until, three, two— “Oh, God!”
God Bless America rings in my head as my hips shoot off the couch, practically knocking out Lukas. A deep rumble of laughter tickles the insides of my thighs. Lukas pulls off me, and I’m afraid to open my eyes. How obvious is it that it’s been like forever since someone has gone downtown on me? Especially like that.
He sits up, and when I pop an eye open, his lips are blossoming into a huge grin. “For the record, it’s Lukas. But if you wanna call me God, princess, I’ll let ya.” He climbs up to me, going straight for my lips. The taste of my arousal mingles on his tongue as he kisses me deep and hard. The heat between us is explosive. I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating in my jersey.
“Off,” I moan, gripping a chunk of his hair.
“Love it when you get bossy.” His fingers dig into the lining of my jersey, and poof! It’s gone along with my bra. I should feel exposed with my breasts on full display, but the only thing coursing through my veins is lust, intense desire, need.
“Pants off,” I growl, arching my head back when his teeth graze my nipple.
“As you wish, princess.” He hurries out of his boxers, and I almost faint at the feel of his warm flesh against me. Holy shit, this is happening. Is it? Should it? I technically hate this guy. No, you don’t. He’s such an asshole. One who creates this tornado of butterflies with every text, stolen glance, and simple touch. He’s moody and grumpy, he hardly ever has anything nice to say, and if I was honest, he’s way too arrogant for my liking. But for some crazy reason, I think he’s…perfect.
His lips break from mine, and for a second, I worry he has the same doubts and is jumping ship. “Condom.” He winks and leans over the couch, retrieving one from his jeans. I try not to look so fascinated as he opens the packet with his teeth and rolls it down his monster dick. Now, I’m officially mortified I ever called him tiny. Because he’s… “Huge,” Lukas says, reading my mind as I’m ogling his junk. Huge isn’t even the right word.
“I was going to go with average, but huge works.” I avoid saying massive. Colossal. Just may split me in two.
He adjusts himself between my quivering thighs, and I hold my breath, waiting to be destroyed by his cock. I’m not sure how this is even going to feel good. If it even fits.
“Mel.”
“Yep?”
“Breathe.”
“Got it—ahhh…” He slides into me, and I’m a goner. He
pauses to make sure I do, in fact, start to breathe before moving. His lips drop from my mouth and begin feathering kisses across my cheek, then down the line of my jaw.
“Shit,” he hisses, picking up the pace, thrusting in and out, inch by glorious inch. No matter how much I tell myself to breathe, I struggle to bring air into my lungs. At least he’s no better. A hiss of breath falls from his lips, followed by a deep groan. My hands are back in his hair, tugging, gliding down his back, my nails scratching, grabbing his tight butt, squeezing. “Fuck, you’re like a little minx.” He powers into me like a man on a mission. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight. He rides me hard and quick, and before I know it, my eyes are rolling into the back of my head, and I’m having an out of body experience. My orgasm blasts like a rocket up my spine, and I curl my toes as I blow the fuck up.
“Dammit, you’re…so…tight, fuck!” Lukas howls. With one final drive, he loses his own battle, hissing out his release. He collapses against me, and it doesn’t even matter if I can’t breathe. I’m too concerned with the fact that I can’t feel my legs. “Fucking devil pussy.” He pops up and disappears into the bathroom.
Huh?
Not quite the first thing you want to hear after mind-blowing sex. At least for one of us. He returns, reclaiming his spot on top of me.
“Yeah, say again?” I’m going to need him to confirm what exactly he meant because it definitely didn’t sound like, wow, you were amazing.
God! Why did I fall for his luring seduction? An asshole is always an asshole.
“Marry me.”
What!
“Shit. No…that’s not what I meant to say. Fuck, that came out wrong.” Yeah, it did. I think. “Date. Let’s date.”
“You wanna date?” Jesus, what’s happening here? He went from calling my vagina the devil to proposing.
I Have Lived And I Have Loved: A Charity Romance Collection Page 54
