Bad Boy Good Man

by Abigail Barnette

  Then, he returned to my clit, this time with a pointed tongue to flick back and forth over just the tip, and he did it again. Got me nearly there, then left me high and dry. I whined in disappointment before I could stop myself.

  He kissed my clit, just a little peck, but it throbbed through my whole body. Muffled between my thighs, he said, “I’m doing that on purpose, you know.”

  “You… Why?” I sank my hands into his hair, sliding my wet cleft back and forth over his chin, his lips, his nose.

  “Because, in a minute here, I’m going to make you come, and you’re going to go crazy, because you had to wait for it.” He closed his mouth over my clit and sucked, circling his tongue around and around.

  His confidence was what pushed me so close to the edge so fast. My orgasm built and built, but never broke. I clung to the arm of the couch, digging my fingers into the upholstery as I rode his face. “Oh my god!” I shouted, praying that this time, this time he would let me have that explosive pleasure he’d promised me. Then, incredibly, I was there, teetering at the brink, spilling over, my pussy so wet I was sure it had dripped down his face.

  So, that’s what the screaming was about.

  I couldn’t blame those women. This guy was like some kind of artist working in the medium of sex.

  “I really want to be inside you,” he gasped, like a man surfacing from a pool.

  “Don’t you want me to…” I found one of his hands and pulled it to my mouth, sucking his finger to give him a clue.

  “Of course I do,” he said, moving his other hand between my legs. “But I want this more.”

  Want. That was what was so different about this, compared to other guys I’d had sex with. He wanted, but he didn’t feel entitled. Nothing was expected. There was no script, no, make-sure-I-get-everything-I-can-from-her demand for every sexual act. It was such an overwhelming relief, I thought I would cry.

  “Let’s move to the bed.” My voice trembled with need. “I’ve got condoms in my bedside table.”

  “Is that where your toys are, too?” he teased as I climbed off him. I took his hand in the dark and led him on the path I had memorized.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Can you see through the wall, too?” Even though he’d just gone down on me, I was somehow mortified that he knew all of my nocturnal activities.

  “No, but I heard a drawer open, I assume because the nightstand is a little uneven and rocks against the wall. And, I’ve heard buzzing, so I know you have a vibrator.” He bumped into me when my knees hit the edge of the bed.

  “So what? Am I being judged here?” I mean, I wasn’t some kind of pervert; I’d never told anyone to ride my face.

  “No way.” He put a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me down gently, so I was bent over the bed. “I was just thinking about our options.”

  Use sex toys? The first time out of the gate? Usually, I had to gauge the mood, and only one guy had ever been grudgingly okay with me occasionally using my vibrator during sex. There seemed to be something threatening about it to men.

  But not this man, clearly. It was like he was up for anything, and that was refreshing in a way I’d never imagined possible.

  The fly of his jeans brushed the backs of my thighs, and his fingers trailed down my back, following the line of my spine to the curve of my ass. His thumb slipped between, skating down to press against my pussy, and I angled my hips back.

  “I can’t wait to get all of this—” he pushed his thumb farther. “—around me.”

  Fair was fair. If he got a preview, I got one, too. I straightened and turned, my fingers encountering the hard plane of his chest, then feeling the way across the ridges of his abs to the top of his jeans. I gripped the waistband and popped the button, parting the zipper as I pushed my hand inside.

  I wasn’t the only one who’d gone commando. He made a low, guttural sound as I closed my hand around him. He was hard and wide and just a bit longer than average, with a few prominent veins that pulsed beneath my fingertips.

  “Does everything meet your approval?” he asked.

  I pretended to consider with a “hmmm…”

  He gripped my butt and pulled me up tight, trapping my hands between us, still on his cock. He crushed my mouth with a kiss then released me to push down his jeans.

  “I can’t tell you if it meets approval until I get a sample,” I answered him finally. When his erection was free, it bobbed between us, brushing my stomach.

  “Find me a condom, and I would be glad to offer you a demonstration,” he quipped.

  I opened the nightstand and found the box, somehow ripped it open, and handed him a long string of them.

  “I only need one.” The crinkle of plastic preceded a muttered curse then he was between my legs. The latex-covered tip of him brushed against me, and I arched up, taking him inside just a tiny bit. He leaned down and kissed me, and with a flicker and the jarring whir of appliances waking up, the power came back on.

  “Was that all it took?” He grinned and leaned down again, still just inside me.

  The dark had been fun, but seeing him, his lean, muscled body tense above mine, his dark eyes and unapologetically egotistical grin made me feel every stage of my arousal all over again. In mere seconds, my body was on fire. I squirmed impatiently under him and brought my knees up around his waist to try and urge him deeper. When he didn’t budge, I cried out, “Oh, come on!”

  “Hey!” he barked. Then, with a teasing smile, he said, “Be considerate of your neighbors!”

  I would have laughed, but I was so desperate for him to fill me that all I said was, “Then, keep me quiet. Just fuck me!”

  “Do you wanna see how we kept it quiet?” he whispered. There was a delicious glimmer of predatory pleasure in his gaze that thrilled me to my toes.

  If whatever it was involved him fucking me, then, “Oh, yes.”

  Gently, he covered my mouth with his hand, his thumb stroking my chin. “This took care of the screaming. this…” He entered me so slowly, I wanted to weep. I could feel every pulse of his cock inside me, and it was amazing, but I needed more. He smiled down at me. “If we go slow, that keeps the headboard from banging.”

  His pace was maddening. I wanted him to speed up, to slam the headboard against the wall so hard I would have to redecorate. But if he did, it wouldn’t feel like this. Hand over my mouth or not, I wasn’t sure I could keep quiet, even for the sake of a demonstration.

  He lifted his hand to brace himself against the mattress. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Please, please, please,” I begged, tipping my pelvis to grind my clit against his hard length.

  “Please what?” He asked, still stroking in and out in an unhurried rhythm.

  “Please make me come.” I reached between us to touch myself and heard the bedside table drawer open.

  He pressed the vibrating bullet into my hand and clicked the switch, then shifted onto his knees to give me room to work. “Make yourself come. But don’t stop at one. Keep going.”

  I cringed at the thought of going past one, considering how sensitive my clit got post-orgasm, but if tonight was a night to give something new a try, I would be fine with that. I’d never had more than one orgasm during sex before, so I’d thought I was done after the oral.

  When the vibration hit me, my whole body bucked. The pressure from his cock against my g-spot was perfect. I writhed as he kept up those slow, heavenly strokes. When I came, it was with a loud, “Oh, fuck!” and cramps that shot through my calves from my muscles straining so hard.

  He wrapped one arm around my back, half-lifting me, and groaned, “Remember, you’re not stopping.”

  I can’t imagine that the sounds I made were that sexy, with all the gurgling and squeaking coming out of my throat, but I kept the vibrator right where he wanted it, hanging helpless against his arm like a rag doll. My orgasm stretched right into another, and I made a strangled moan of disbelief as I pulsed around him.

 
“Do you like it from behind?” he asked, picking up the pace slightly.

  At the moment, I liked everything. “Yeah,” I panted, scrambling to my hands and knees. He was inside me again so fast I gasped in surprise.

  He stopped immediately. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No, keep going.” I rocked on my knees impatiently.

  After a few deep thrusts, he groaned, “I’m not going to last much longer. Do you still have that vibrator?”

  I heard it buzzing somewhere in the depths of the comforter and felt around for it. I tried to maneuver it into position, but it was awkward, bracing my weigh on one hand. He took the smooth egg and reached beneath us to press it against me.

  “Let’s see if we can’t time it just right,” he murmured against my neck. He drew lazy circles around my clit with the narrow end of the vibe, punctuating each with a push of his hips. “Tell me when you’re getting close.”

  “I’m already close,” I moaned, digging my fingers into my pillow and holding on for dear life. My body tightened around him; I could feel the delicate flutters of my muscles up and down his length. “Oh god, I’m—”

  He sped up, letting loose into the rhythm I’d memorized from many a Tuesday and Thursday night. Only this time, it was my headboard slamming against the wall, and my body getting absolutely pounded. He stilled in me, uttered the long, low groan I’d become so used to hearing, while I screamed and bucked my hips. The throb of his release just prolonged mine, until I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, and I fell to the bed, forcing him to withdraw.

  My muscles already hurt, like I’d just been through some brutal CrossFit workout. My throat and mouth were dry from all of the screaming and gasping for breath. Every inch of my skin buzzed, and I was exhausted. But I’d never felt so exhilarated, relaxed, and stress-free in my entire life.

  Antony rolled off me, wiping sweat from his forehead. “That was great, thank you.”

  “Thank you,” I reciprocated. “That was much better than bleeding to death in my apartment.”

  From the other side of the wall, I heard a television. My good mood fell a little when I realized that he’d noticed it, too.

  “I should go turn that off,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the wall.

  “Yeah.” Why did I feel so empty? This was just casual sex. Mind-blowing, casual sex, but I’d planned on him leaving afterward. Just not this afterward. He hadn’t even taken off the damn condom.

  He leaned over, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  I sat up and watched him dispose of the condom in a wad of tissue from the box on my nightstand. “Back?”

  “Yeah. Unless you want me to leave leave?”

  “Wow, um.” I laughed a little. “That’s just unexpected. I thought you’d be a fuck and run kind of guy.”

  “Are you kidding me?” He stood—oh god, his ass could have been part of an art exhibit—and pulled on his jeans before he looked back at me. “If you think I’m good at sex, wait until you see how great I am at cuddling.”

  Chapter Five

  Though the power to our building had been restored, my office was still down. I woke at six to a call from my department manager, telling me not to bother coming in and to work from home on what I could.

  What I wanted to work on was the guy wrapped around me in my bed like a human vine.

  “Hey,” I whispered, nudging him. “Do you need to get up?”

  I’d thought he was asleep, but when he spoke, he sounded wide-awake. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

  Before I could reply, he rolled over on top of me and buried his face in my neck. “But not until seven.”

  “I don’t usually have overnight guests.” I giggled. “Is this part of the package?”

  He was erect and ready, and I was still wet—and slightly sore—from the night before. “Oh yeah, this is an all-inclusive deal.”

  Even though we both had crazy bad breath, he kissed me, and I didn’t mind a bit. Every inch of his deliciously hard body pressed against mine, sinking me into the mattress, the way I wanted him to sink into me. He groped around the nightstand drawer for a condom, then slipped his hand between us to put it on.

  I parted my legs, and he obliged, sinking inside, groaning against my mouth. He pulled back. “You feel as good as your cake tastes.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty good compliment.” I gripped his shoulders as he withdrew slowly. My pulse sped up. Breathlessly, I added, “You feel as good as a hard cock in the morning.”

  He laughed and hooked an arm around my waist to roll me atop him. I sat up, pushing back my bed-mussed hair.

  “You look like Ariel.” He reached up and curled a coppery lock around his finger. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

  Okay, The Little Mermaid was kind of a weird reference for a guy to make while he was inside you, but I could roll with it. I squeezed all around him, and he groaned.

  It was a quickie; he had to get back to his place to get ready for work. By the time we were finished, we were both in desperate need of a shower.

  “This was really great,” he said as he sat on the edge of my bed. He didn’t have much to get dressed in, just his jeans. His abs were so amazing. They were like every season of True Blood rolled into one guy.

  I nodded, my mouth dry. “It was. Thanks for the orgasms.”

  “Right back at you.” Maybe it was the lingering horniness that follows exciting sex, but he seemed genuinely reluctant to leave me, kissing me again, long and slow, before he left.

  * * * *

  “And, that was it.” I sipped my iced coffee as I alternated eye contact between Dawn and Sarah, silently asking them to analyze the hell out of my out-of-the-blue night with Antony. We’d convened at our favorite local coffee shop for amazing desserts and in-depth analysis of our weekends.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Dawn said, her brows drawn down. “Describe his abs again?”

  I laughed.

  Sarah, however, looked pretty serious. “I’m not sure this was the greatest choice for you. You know you’ve had bad experiences with casual sex. You get too attached.”

  “That’s true,” Dawn agreed, reaching across the table to snag a bite of cheesecake. “And, he is kind of a man-whore.”

  “How many times do we have to have the conversation where I explain to you how offensive that word is?” Sarah asked, the ire of a long-ago argument bubbling up between them.

  “Focus, guys!” I snapped my fingers at them. “We’re talking about how I fucked my neighbor.”

  Sarah shook her head. “What’s going to happen tomorrow night, when his headboard is banging your wall, again?”

  “We already talked about that. There won’t be anymore headboard banging incidents.” But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be walk-of-shame incidents. “Look, he didn’t say he wanted to hang out with me again or anything like that. It was a one-time thing, and we both know that.”

  Plus, we didn’t know each other that well. Sure, I’d shared some of my most personal feelings with him, and I’d let myself be vulnerable to him in a way I hadn’t done with any guy in a long time. God, I’d begged him—begged him—to fuck me, and make me come. I’d been totally shameless with him.

  I wasn’t even sure I could face him in the hallway, again, let alone go out on a first date. How do you even go out on a first date with a guy you’ve already had sex with?

  “We just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Dawn said. It was the oldest friend concern anyone had ever voiced in the history of friendship. Nobody wanted to see their friends get hurt. And, nobody wanted to get hurt, so I hoped I didn’t disappoint her.

  “Trust me, guys. It was hot and impulsive, and the whole thing was really naughty. If he wanted to do it again in the future, I’m not sure I would take him up on it. It just so happened that the moment was right.” That was total bullshit. I was going to do it again. If he asked. And, if he didn’t, I would be mortified.
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  “Okay,” Sarah sighed. “But I’m warning you, I’m running out of ways to say ‘I told you so.’”

  * * * *

  After our post-weekend check-in, I headed home feeling really proud of myself. I did like Antony. He was considerate and fun, and he’d made every square inch of my body tingle. It made sense to like someone like that. But liking him didn’t mean I had to get romantically attached or even have a crush on him.

  Even though I did have just the teensiest crush on him.

  That crush was instantly cured when I stepped through my apartment door. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d been in bed with me, and Antony’s headboard was slamming against the wall like he was going for the gold in the sexlympics.

  Your feelings aren’t hurt because you like him. Your feelings aren’t hurt at all, I reminded myself as disappointment plunged through me. You’re going to ignore this, then ignore him, and move on with your life.

  But how could I? We’d promised to be discreet about this exact thing. It had been part of our casual hook up bargain. Besides, it was about neighborly consideration.

  How could you? Another part of my brain asked. How could he!

  I wasn’t sure if I had a good point or an overly emotional point. But it did seem a tad insensitive, given the issues we’d already had with each other over this very topic, when we’d had sex just that morning.

  This wasn’t something I had to—or should—just put up with. It was rude. It was insensitive. And, I had every right to say something about it.

  Slipping my keys into my back pocket, I strode down the hall and banged on his door. My eyes squeezed shut against a weird wash of tears. It was because I was so angry. I didn’t have any other feelings for him. All we’d done was have sex.

  You know you’ve never been good at casual sex. You get too attached, too fast. Sarah’s words came back to haunt me. But it was more than that. Hearing Antony having sex with one of his other, hotter hook-ups made me feel so small and insecure. Like I didn’t measure up. He’d had to call some chick who looked like she belonged in a music video to get the disappointment of me off of him.