Bad Boy Good Man

by Abigail Barnette

  The sound of paper crinkling preceded his words. “A little uptight.”

  He pressed the Band-Aid onto my skin as I protested, “You don’t know me. How would you know if I was uptight?”

  “How would you know that I’m an adulterer?” he countered.

  “Fair enough.” I wiggled my toes, checking to see that my foot still worked. “Thank you. And your flashlight. And your first aid kit.”

  “And my beer?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice. “This is where I confess that I’m afraid of the dark.”

  “No, you’re not,” I scoffed. “That sounds like a line.”

  “It’s not a line. If I was trying to hook up with you, you’d know it.” He clicked off the light, and I heard the fizz-pop of a beer opening. “And, it’s too quiet over there.”

  “For once,” I teased. How had I lived next to this guy and never learned he had a sense of humor? “Give me your flashlight. I’m going to find some clothes.”

  I made sure I was well and truly wrapped up before I turned the light back on and went to my dresser. The good thing about being in the dark was, I didn’t have to dress to impress him. Not that it would matter, I reminded myself.

  Just to prove it, I put on my floppiest, softest t-shirt and a pair of cotton sleep pants. Shapeless, drab, and miss-matched shades of brown and gray. I was dressed for painting a living room, not getting my freak on.

  I limped past my bed, swinging the flashlight. “The couch is this way.”

  He followed me in the darkness, and we took opposite ends of the small sofa. In the beam of light, I saw him press the top of a beer bottle against his flexed forearm. With a twist, the top popped off.

  “Holy shit.” I was definitely hard up for it when just looking at the muscles of his arm knocked the wind out of me. He hadn’t gotten a shirt when he’d gone for the beer and Band-Aids. I wondered if that was intentional. No, wait. Maybe I was hoping it was intentional.

  He passed the bottle to me. “I didn’t have much in the way of food, or I would have brought some.”

  “I have cake!” I blurted.

  “Was it your birthday?” he asked as I dashed to the kitchen–as much of a dash as I could accomplish with my sore heel.

  “No, actually…” Oh well. He’d seen me practically naked, might as well bare my embarrassing soul, too. “I made it for you. I was going to bring it over today, to say I was sorry for the whole misunderstanding.”

  “What made you change your mind? It was so good, you wanted to keep it for yourself?” he teased.

  “No, um…” Your tantrum fuck made me want to keep it for myself. No. I would not throw cold water on him when we were both making the most of a bad evening. “I thought you might think I was being silly, making a cake for you. We barely know each other.”

  “I think it’s a safe bet that everyone likes cake, though, isn’t it?” he called as I cut a couple slices and put them on plates. At least, with the lights off, he wouldn’t see what a mess the kitchen was.

  I returned and passed him a plate. “You’d think, right?”

  He took the cake and raised an eyebrow at it. “I was expecting to get a piece that said ‘jerk’ in frosting.”

  “No, only really, really big jerks get it in writing.” I waited, oddly nervous as he took his first bite. Sometimes, I think it would be less nerve-wracking to walk through Times Square naked than introduce new people to my baking.

  “This is amazing,” he said around a mouthful.

  I swallowed and said, “Thanks. It should be. I’ve been baking for a while.”

  “It’s a good hobby. Could be a fallback career, if you needed one.” When I laughed, he went on, “Seriously. This is good enough that you could open your own bakery.”

  “Sometimes, I do fantasize about this alternate universe me, with alternate universe parents who let her open up her own alternate universe bakery.” I laughed at myself and tipped my head back against the couch. “That’s so pathetic.”

  “No, not pathetic.” His voice was oddly soft. “I think it sounds deeply unhappy.”

  “I was raised to be practical, not happy.” Wow, that sounded maudlin. “I just mean, I was taught by my parents to be cautious about stuff. I don’t generally take chances.”

  He shrugged. “My family was the same. But I’m a rebel. Maybe you’d be happier if you tried it out, some time.”

  Maybe it was the realization of how repressed my life sounded when explained to someone else. Maybe it was the beer, or the fact that the most built guy I’d ever seen in person was sitting next to me with his shirt off. Maybe it was the ecstatic screaming I heard on Tuesday and Thursday nights that gave testament to the fact that he had skills to go with that awesome body.

  For whatever reason, I decided then and there that I was going to rebel. And, I did it by launching myself at him and kissing him.

  Chapter Four

  “Whoa!” Antony pulled back, his hands on my shoulders. He laughed, a shocked sound that didn’t necessarily rule out anything. “I’ve never had someone take my advice that quick, before.”

  “Sorry, I thought…” I’d thought what? That because he was constantly having overnight guests, he wanted to be with me? That our friendly banter had been a promise of seduction or something? “Ugh, I’m sorry, that was totally inappropriate.” A bead of sweat formed at my temple. It had to be from embarrassment, since the temperature was dropping fast with no thermostat to regulate it.

  “Maybe a little inappropriate. More surprising than inappropriate.” He paused. “Because to be honest, I’ve been sitting here trying to think of a good moment to make a move.”

  “No, you weren’t,” I laughed. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “No, I was, I swear.” He shrugged. “I think you’re cute. And, I kind of dig that whole repressed vibe you’ve got going on.”

  “Because you want to be the bad boy who corrupts the uptight virgin?” I amended quickly, “I’m not a virgin. It was just an expression.”

  “I didn’t think you were. And, I’m not a pervert; I don’t get off on exploiting innocent young women. But I’d be lying if I said that’s not a thing that turns men on.” He stopped himself with an embarrassed laugh. “I sound like a total dick right now, don’t I?”

  “Yeah, kind of dickish. But maybe not as dickish as morally condemning someone, then jumping them at the first available opportunity.” Now that he’d admitted that he was attracted to me, and I’d made it mortifyingly clear that I was attracted to him, the pressure was off.

  His slow smile in the dim light told me that he felt the same. “So…if you wanted to…”

  If I wanted to. If I wanted to have casual sex with my neighbor, opening up a ton of potentially awkward situations—even more awkward than what had already transpired between us—and ensuring future embarrassment and general misery.

  The memory of all those screams and moans that had floated through the wall taunted me. I had never been with anyone who’d made me feel like that. After the dry spell I’d been having, I could really, really use a night of feeling like that.

  “Totally casual? No big deal if I bring a guy over here for a date or something? You’re not going to be insulted or anything?” I asked cautiously. He didn’t know that there was no other man on the horizon.

  “As long as you don’t mind my Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he said with a smirk.

  “I think if we stick to our volume control rule, it’ll be fine.” I leaned forward and tentatively placed one hand on his chest. Oh god, the hair there tickled my palm. My throat went desert dry.

  “And no pressure, if it’s not going to happen again,” he said, taking that hand and shaking it. “I have to be honest… We don’t know each other very well. And, I don’t have any guarantee that you’re not going to be weird about this in the future, and you can only take me at my word that I’m not going to be weird about it, so…”

  “So, we’re on equal footing here.” I p
ulled back slightly, testing the connection of our hands. He didn’t let me go. Holding my gaze in the diffuse glow of the flashlight, he lifted my hand to his mouth and brushed my fingertips across his bottom lip. There was an easy intimacy in the way he did it that flooded my veins with heat.

  I exhaled, shaking.

  Still pressing kisses to my fingers, my palm the ticklish base of my thumb, he said, “Look, I find it helps to be upfront about stuff before we get in the moment and let things slide. One, do you have any condoms, or should I run over to my place and get one?”

  “I have some.” I didn’t need to tell him that they’d been sitting in my dresser drawer without hope for weeks now. I’d bought them to go on a blind date with someone Dawn had set me up with. We’d had zero chemistry.

  I don’t go on a date with a guy, and we end up having sex. That was really something.

  “Good,” he said, sounding relieved that would we go on without interruption. He bent his head to suck at the pulse point of my wrist. “I usually take the lead during sex, and I’m told I can be a little bossy.”

  “Oh.” I had to keep from fanning myself. “That’s…fine.”

  “If I’m too forceful or rough or something, let me know.” He nibbled his way up the inside of my forearm to my elbow.

  “I’ve never been accused of bossiness. I generally let the guy take the lead.” It was difficult to keep my voice steady as he guided my arm around his neck. “Is there anything you don’t like?”

  “How about we take that on a case-by-case basis?” He started laughing before he could continue. “I don’t want to say ‘no holds barred’ and then find myself tied up and getting it from your strap-on.”

  My abs hurt from laughing too hard. My head sagged forward as I tried to get myself under control. When I looked up again, there was no space between our lips. He’d swooped in on me, cupping my jaw in his hands, leaning into the embrace he’d already set up by sliding my arm onto his shoulder.

  He was smooth as fuck.

  His lips soft, gentle and demanding at the same time. I opened my mouth, and he took the invitation, sliding his tongue against mine. I’d never really been into kissing, but clearly, I hadn’t been with guys who did it right. I’d had guys go down on me and not turn me on as much as Antony’s mouth on mine did.

  With a hand on each shoulder, I gave him a small push back, just so I could get a breath. “You’re a really good kisser.”

  “You have to have a good partner,” he murmured against my lips before he claimed them again.

  He brought his hands up to bracket my head, and encountered the tangles of my slightly damp hair. “Can we take this down?”

  I reached up and freed my hair from the ponytail holder that held it piled up in a ridiculous floppy bun. How had he even wanted to have sex with me after seeing me like that? Maybe the power outage was to my advantage.

  As my hair fell around my shoulders, he leaned close. He buried his face in my tresses, inhaling deeply. “I love your hair. Come here, I want to feel it.”

  I didn’t have to ask where he wanted me, because he slipped his hands under my butt and lifted me up, like I was a handful of feathers.

  “Right here,” he whispered against my ear, guiding my legs apart with his knees so that I straddled his lap. He made a low sound in his throat as my hair fell around his shoulders.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “The batteries in that flashlight are going to run out.” It wasn’t because I was nervous of him seeing me. Well, that was a part of it. But doing it in the total dark had some really sexy advantages. Everything was a surprise, that way.

  He reached over and turned it off, plunging us into blackness. “This has a real ‘seven minutes in heaven’ feel, right now.”

  “I know; it’s like being in middle school.” But the last time I’d been locked in a closet with someone as a party game, he sure as hell hadn’t had a body like Antony’s. He was so…solid. There was only a little give to his arms when I gripped them to steady myself. “Except, not exactly PG-13.”

  “No, tonight is going to be NC-17, I promise.” His fingers combed through my hair, bringing it forward to enclose us both like a canopy of willow branches. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. And, I’m not just saying that to fuck you.”

  “I know. I was gonna fuck you, anyway.” I pressed our mouths together again, and it was such a hungry, deep kiss that I couldn’t breathe. When we pulled apart, I gasped. “But it’s nice to hear.”

  “You wanna try something?” he whispered against my jaw.

  I most definitely wanted to try something. “Anything you want. Tell me what to do, if you’re so damn bossy.”

  “Sit on your hands.” His voice was gruff as he issued the command, and heat shot through me. So, this is what they mean by “alpha-male”.

  I straightened up a little, flipping my hair to one side the way dogs tilt their heads when they looked confused. “Why?”

  “Just do it.” He took my hands and guided them to my thighs. I slipped them under, trapping my fingers between my legs and his. “Good,” he murmured against my cheek. “Very good.”

  I held my breath as his fingers skimmed up my thighs, over my belly, and to the hem of my t-shirt. He hadn’t tried to take it off, which was some how hotter than having him strip it from me. With my hands pinned, removing the shirt wasn’t even an option. It was the lightest form of bondage I could imagine, but I felt so helplessly constricted.

  He pushed both hands under, covering my breasts and massaging them against my chest. My nipples slid between his fingers, and he pinched them just a little tighter. I squirmed; without the ability to explore his body, all of my attention focused directly on what he was making me feel. He lowered his head and pushed up my t-shirt.

  I felt his breath on me, and a light brush of his lips against my skin as he said, “I have a confession to make.”

  “O-oh?” My voice trembled.

  “I accidentally saw your boobs when I came in here, earlier.” He laughed, his mouth heating my skin without touching me. It was maddening.

  Still, I managed to laugh. “Yeah? What’s the verdict?”

  “A-plus, will definitely keep thinking about them when I’m in the shower.” He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, and I lifted my ribcage, arching toward him. He rolled my flesh between his teeth and swirled his tongue over me. His other hand imitated the motion, circling my nipple and bringing it to a hard peak.

  I rocked on my hands, wanting to bring them up to touch him, to grab his hair and pull him tight to me. When he moved on to the other side, I thought I would need my inhaler. Please do not let the only time I’m with a guy this hot end in a trip to the ER.

  “Hey, Ellie?” he murmured against my skin, his breath teasing the wetness his mouth had left behind. “You should probably be breathing right now.”

  “Oh, right.” I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding and relaxed my shoulders. “Turns out you’re really good at this.”

  “I get practice.” He kissed between my breasts, pushing my shirt up farther to lave the top curves, still groping and squeezing with his hands. His mouth was all over the place, like he couldn’t decide what inch of my skin he should nibble or suck on next.

  “I want to touch you,” I moaned, my head dropping back in a delicious stretch.

  “All right. Touch me,” he challenged, and when I tried to free my hands, he grabbed my arms. “No. Not like that. You can touch me, but not with those.”

  I’m surprised my grin didn’t light up the entire room. I leaned forward, which was a real trick in the position I was in. Still, I managed to find his neck with my teeth.

  “Hey, nothing above the collar. I have a job,” he reminded me.

  A job where he had to wear suits and walk around looking totally hot. Yeah, I didn’t want to mess that up. I snaked my tongue up, over the rough stubble on his jaw. Two kisses led me to his mouth. The backs of his fingers glided down my stomach, under the waistba
nd of my pants. I hadn’t put on panties, so he encountered the soft strip of curls on my mound. That seemed to surprise him; he choked back a groan. “You’re probably going to hit me, but I have to know.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Yes. It matches.”

  He combed his fingers through my pubic hair and sighed. “And, I don’t even get to see it.”

  “Maybe another time,” I joked, but it wasn’t really a joke. At all. I was already hoping he could work me into a Tuesday or Thursday time slot. I reminded myself that this might be a one-off, and I needed to just slow down and enjoy it.

  The tip of his middle finger slid down my cleft, over my clit. He swirled in a slow circle, and I moaned. He dipped lower and found my opening, to penetrate me just slightly. Then, his hand withdrew, to come up beside my face as I kissed him. He pulled back and I heard a wet smacking sound. He was tasting me, I realized, and grew even wetter.

  “Take these off.” He snapped the drawstring band of my pajama pants, then tugged the knot loose.

  “You are bossy.” I slid from his lap, shaking my numb hands before I pulled down the pants. I wished I could have been wearing some lingerie I could slowly peel off. And that we had light so he could see me doing it. “I like it.”

  “You do, huh?” He gripped my hips and pulled me forward. “Then, get up here, and ride on my face.”

  My knees went weak. No one had ever talked to me like that, at least, not when they weren’t some disgusting stranger shouting at me on the street. In this situation, it had the exact opposite effect; I practically vaulted onto him. He caught me with a laugh, and somehow, we aligned ourselves properly, my knees on either side of his head as he scooted down on the couch. He grabbed my hips to bring me down. His nose brushed my curls, and he inhaled deep, then exhaled on a low growl. His tongue, flat and wide, slicked between my labia, over my clit, back and forth until my pelvis rocked, and I reached up to cup my breasts. I thought I might be getting close… No, I was actually getting close, when he turned his attention lower, plunging his tongue into me.

  My hopes fell a little bit. Well, he wasn’t going to be perfect at sex. And, a lot of guys didn’t realize how important repetition was.