Oh. My. God. She’d actually told Blake Hawley she wanted him to fuck her. She’d called him Mr Hot-Stuff to his face.
Blake Hawley gave me his phone number and told me to call him. Mandy sat up. He’d probably done it because she’d all but raped him—okay, maybe not quite, but she hadn’t exactly played hard to get, had she? Remembering how many times she’d told him how hot he was, she groaned. This was why she avoided tequila. She threw back the covers then stumbled into the bathroom and dug out a bottle of aspirin. She turned on the shower then drank two glasses of water while she waited for the water to heat and steam to build. The entire time, she studiously avoided looking at her hand. Finally, the water was hot, she was naked and she couldn’t avoid it anymore. Should she copy down the number, or just let it wash away?
Don’t be fucking stupid, Mandy. She went into the bedroom and carefully wrote the number on the notepad in her bedside drawer. Only an idiot would get rid of Blake Hawley’s phone number. Even if she decided not to use it, she’d keep it. Just in case.
Getting into the shower, she turned her face up into the searingly hot stream of water and let the pounding jets soothe away her headache. She needed to be in reasonably good form when she met Karen for a late lunch. Their weekend lunches were always late, because Daniel liked to lie in and play in the mornings.
Mandy reached for the shampoo. It had been a long time since she’d had a boyfriend to play with on a Saturday morning. What would Blake be like in bed? Would he be intense or playful? Or maybe a combination of both? Massaging the shampoo into her scalp, she closed her eyes and imagined Blake there with her. His big, talented hands in her hair while he crowded her into the wall with the solid muscle of his body. His dick, hard against her, leaking pre-cum…
She stuck her head back under the water. Maybe she would call him. After all, how many times did a girl get the chance to have sex with a rock star?
* * * *
“Right.” Karen dropped her purse on the table and plonked herself into the chair opposite Mandy. “I couldn’t ask last night in the car because Daniel was there. But now I have you all to myself, so spill. What did you and Blake talk about?” She tucked her purse neatly under the table and turned her gimlet eye on Mandy.
“Well”—Mandy took a sip from her water glass. She was trying to re-hydrate—“if I remember right, and there’s some doubt there, I did most of the talking. It was pretty much all variations on how hot he is and how I want to do him.”
Karen sat back. “Okay,” she said slowly, “I expected you to come on to him, but that’s probably more direct than I thought. That’s okay, though,” she rallied.
“I’m not sure.” Mandy paused when the waitress arrived, and they ordered. “So,” she picked up, “I basically said, let’s go have sex—to paraphrase—and he said no.”
Karen sputtered on her water. “What?”
“He said no. Then he said if I still wanted to when I sobered up, to call him, and he gave me his number.”
A grin split Karen’s face, and Mandy felt her own mouth stretching to mirror it. “Holy crap,” her best friend said. “Blake Hawley gave you his phone number!”
Mandy glanced around quickly, but nobody appeared to be paying attention to them. “I know.” She bounced in her seat, just a tiny bounce, but she couldn’t hold it in. “But, it’s pretty much just for a booty call.”
“So?” Karen flipped her hair back—she’d started wearing it loose more often now, and was still getting used to it. “Remember what you said when I picked up Daniel in the bar? You were thrilled for me. As I recall, you thought that a quick bout of fucking in the alley behind the bar with a stranger was exactly what I needed.”
Mandy smirked. “And I was right, wasn’t I? Now you’re gloriously happy and probably having hot dirty sex every night.”
“Morning, noon and,” Karen agreed, her own smirk completely satisfied. “My point is, you have this opportunity to get it on with a totally hot guy who not only has a reputation with women, but who’s also a rock star. Um, hello, how often do opportunities like this come up?”
It was so close to what she’d been thinking, she hesitated. “You would never have done it,” she pointed out.
“No.” Karen nodded. “But I also would never have gone up to him last night and propositioned him. When Daniel and I hooked up, he made all the moves. I’ve always envied you your confidence.”
The waitress brought their food, and they spent a few minutes organising themselves. “What you’re saying”—Mandy pushed lettuce around on her plate, looking for the bacon. Caesar salad, my ass. More like lettuce and dressing—“is that I should call him.”
“Now.” Karen jabbed her fork in Mandy’s direction. “Call him now. And then call me tomorrow and tell me all about it.”
* * * *
Mandy sat at her kitchen table, phone in one hand and the paper with Blake’s number on it in the other. She’d been sitting there for ten minutes, unable to dial. It was ridiculous. She’d asked men out before, often without as much encouragement as Blake had given her. How stupid was it that she couldn’t even dial?
Thoroughly irritated, she put the paper on the table top and punched the numbers in on the keypad. Butterflies zoomed through her stomach as if they were on speed. One ring. Two. Thr—
“Hello?”
Oh, fuck! “Uh, hi, um.” She sounded like a nervous teenager. “Uh, this is Mandy Coyle. From the—”
“I remember you, Mandy.” Was it her imagination, or had his voice just dropped an octave? Hearing it on the phone, disembodied the way it was through the radio or on CD, it was so much sexier than real life. Considering how sexy real life was…
Emboldened by his smooth, husky tone, she forged ahead. “You said to call when I was sober.”
“I did. Are you sober?”
“As a judge. As I recall, that makes you all mine.”
He laughed and if she hadn’t already been sitting, her knees would have given way. “I said that, didn’t I? Well, it’s one promise I’m happy to follow through on. Your place or mine?”
“Mine.” She was determined to maintain some control.
“Give me the address. Oh, and Mandy? Make sure you cancel any plans you have for the rest of the weekend.”
God! What the hell was she supposed to say to that? ‘Okay’ would just be wimpy, and ‘sure thing’ a bit eager. Instead, she gave him the address and hung up, proud that she’d managed to control her voice.
Thankfully, her legs were shaved, her hair looked good—not that that really mattered, but she wanted to make a good impression after last night’s drunken come-on. She’d stopped at the drugstore on the way home for condoms, so that was sorted.
When the doorbell finally rang, adrenaline flooded her body. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pictured him, with his not-quite-curly blond hair and his amazing eyes, the hard-muscled body. Then she went to open the door.
Wow. She clung to the door handle. There were no words to describe him, in battered old jeans and a faded blue T-shirt with the sleeves torn out. Other men might look sloppy. Blake looked sexy enough to take a bite out of.
His smirk dragged her back to her senses. “Hi.” She stepped back from the doorway. “Come on in.”
He—walked was the wrong word. He entered her house, his sexy presence filling the front hall and spilling sizzling tingles along her spine. She concentrated really hard on not jumping him, and closed the door.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” Great, she was offering refreshments like a maiden aunt while standing in the front hall. He chuckled, a soft ‘heh-heh-heh’, his gaze locked on her face, and saliva pooled in her mouth. Screw it. She threw herself at him, the collision of her body into his forcible. Grasping his shoulders for leverage as he stumbled back into the wall, she wrapped her legs around him and planted her lips on his.
It took only seconds for him to respond, turning them so she was the one pressed against the wall. He
tore his lips from hers and planted hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jawline until finally he took her earlobe between his teeth and nipped gently. Mandy’s stomach cramped. She’d never known her ear was an erogenous zone, but lightning shot through her. Blake undulated against her, his hard cock pressing against her pussy, then drawing away before returning to torment her with fleeting pressure. Mandy let go of his shoulders and grabbed his hips, nearly overbalancing them in her attempt to grind against him.
Blake tore his mouth from her flesh and staggered back, taking her with him and lowering them both to the floor. Mandy barely had time to put her hands back on his hot, sexy skin, before he was working at her top.
Good idea. She grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and yanked it up, getting in his way and tangling their hands in the fabric.
“Mandy, wait.”
She maintained her grip. “Take it off.”
He grinned and released her shirt to take hold of his own. “Let go.” He barely gave her time to do so before he tugged it off over his head.
Hmm. His chest was amazing, firm and muscled, and as she’d guessed, heavily tattooed. In this case, an amazingly detailed rendering of a tree—interesting.
There would be time to think about that later—right then, her gaze zeroed in on his nipples, and she leant forward and clamped her teeth on one.
“Ung.” The shudder that coursed through Blake encouraged her to lave her tongue across the nub. He shuddered again, then stroked a finger down the side of her face.
“Let go. I want you naked.” He was still working on the buttons of her shirt. Reluctantly, she released his nipple and straightened, unbuttoning his jeans as he stripped off her top then unclipped her bra.
Within moments, they were both naked, and Blake rolled her under him. The tile floor was cold and hard against her back, but her front, pressed against Blake, was burning hot, and the contrast was incredibly arousing.
Blake shifted, rubbing his dick against her clit, and shivers of pleasure vibrated through her. “Can’t wait,” she muttered, undulating, loving the drag of his throbbing cock on her.
Blake moved away.
“No!” she protested, and he laughed. She heard the rustle of fabric, then he was back, condom in hand. “Let me do it,” she begged, and he handed it to her without argument, his teal eyes gleaming.
She sat up, ripped open the packet and took his dick in her hand. It was hot, the skin impossibly soft and smooth, and she stroked, once, twice and squeezed gently. It jumped in her grip.
“Mandy!”
Mandy cast him a wicked smile and rolled the condom on. She’d barely finished when he pushed her back to the floor and entered her in one swift, incredibly arousing thrust. She moaned, a drawn out sound, as Blake started a steady, rhythmic thrusting that managed to hit all her sensitive spots, but was so slooow, and she needed more, needed it faster, harder…
She surged upward, paused to appreciate the hot fullness as Blake’s cock hit impossible depths within her, then shoved him, rolling them over and seating herself on him.
He gazed up at her, his hot teal eyes slumberous and his almost-curly hair tousled. There was a half-smile on his mouth and the hint of colour on his impossibly high cheekbones. He shifted slightly, and his dick rubbed the swollen tissues in her cunt. She closed her eyes to savour the sensation, and began to move, slowly at first, determined to tease Blake the way he’d teased her, her urgency appeased somewhat now that she’d seized control.
The sudden grip of hands on her hips, of calloused palms sliding up her torso, had her opening her eyes again. Blake’s attention was fixed on her chest. Her breasts were bobbing slightly as she undulated over him, and as she watched, he rubbed them, paying special attention to her painfully erect nipples. Every touch on the swollen nubs was like a direct shock to her pussy, which clenched and unclenched in response. Within moments, both she and Blake were moaning, and she set up a faster rhythm, matched by Blake’s urgent tugs on her nipples.
Panting, Mandy strove to control her movements, to measure the contractions of her cunt. Instead, she steadily spiralled out of control, her inner muscles clamping down hard on Blake’s dick, and sending them both over the edge.
Chapter Three
I just had sex with Blake Hawley. More to the point, she’d just had mind-blowingly amazing sex with the hottest man she’d ever met. Her pussy clenched just remembering.
“Mmm.” Blake’s moan vibrated through his chest as she contracted around him, his still half-hard dick twitching inside her. “That was nice. Do it again.”
“Are you kidding?” Involuntary spasms were probably the only movements she was capable of right then. Testing that theory, Mandy levered herself upright, and the motion sent his cock deeper inside her. “Oh, God.” Carefully, she manoeuvred herself off him, almost whimpering as he slid out of her, instantly feeling the emptiness. She collapsed onto the tile beside him, panting, and finally looked at his face.
He was smirking again, the bastard, and those incredible teal eyes were lit with devilment. He leaned over and kissed her, not the same hot, I-need-you-naked-and-writhing-right-now kiss that he’d used before, but a simmering kind of kiss, an open-mouthed, we’ve-just-had-smoking-sex-and-I’m-gearing-up-for-round-two kiss. At least, she hoped that was what it was.
He raised his head, and the smirk was gone, his gaze intense. “Bathroom?”
She pointed down the hall. “Second on the left.”
He stood with one graceful movement, something Mandy had never managed, and disappeared in the direction she’d indicated. As soon as he was out of sight, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Wow. Beyond wow. Like, were men actually allowed to be that good? Wasn’t there a law that said if a man was hot, rich and successful in his chosen career, he had to be a dud in bed? Maybe he was only good for one round.
“Are you still here?”
She snapped her eyes open. Blake stood in front of her, now naked, his cock semi-aroused as he smiled down at her. “Uh…”
He reached down a hand, and she took it automatically, then stood when he tugged. “Where’s your bedroom?”
Mandy dragged her brain back into gear, and flashed her flirtiest smile. “Right this way.” She started to lead him down the hall, then stopped. “Wait.” She let go of his hand and stripped off what remained of her clothes. Naked, she tugged the clip from her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. “Much better. Come on, tiger, I’ve got plans for you.” He laughed, and the warm masculine sound heated her insides better than any porn ever could. She grabbed hold of his arm and practically dragged him to her bedroom.
* * * *
Blake stretched lazily without opening his eyes, muscles extending and sockets popping. Man, there was nothing like a sex marathon to loosen things up. He smiled, thinking about the amazing, sometimes depraved, and entirely decadent couple of days he’d just had. Hmm, Monday morning had never felt so good.
He rolled over, reaching out for Mandy’s hot little body, but found nothing. He opened his eyes and sat up. The room was dim, but sunlight glowed around the edges of the drawn curtains.
The bed was empty. Blake frowned and slid out of bed, then crossed naked to the en- suite bathroom. Also empty. He took care of business, then wandered out into the rest of the apartment. The air held that still kind of quiet that indicated emptiness. Maybe Mandy had gone to work. It was Monday morning, after all. But why hadn’t she woken him?
He found his answer on the kitchen table. A white paper napkin sat on the wood surface, exactly where Mandy had sat while he’d had his “breakfast” yesterday. Buoyed by the memory, he grabbed the napkin.
Gone to work. This was great—glad I got drunk Friday. See you around.
Mandy
Blake read the note again, then a third time. Was she brushing him off? He hadn’t got a brush off since…maybe it was high school? More to the point, why was she brushing him off? She’d had a good time, he could guaran-damn-tee that, and he’d plann
ed to carry right on. But her note said, pretty damn clearly, that she wanted him gone when she got home.
Fuck.
Well, that was that. He wasn’t going to hang around until she got home from work like some creepy loser. Where the hell were his clothes?
Ten minutes later, his truck idling at a red light, he thought about it again. He was no creepy loser, but there was no reason why he couldn’t call her. Later though. In the meantime…he grabbed his cell and punched speed dial.
“Yeah?”
“Daniel, Blake. How’s it going?”
“Aw, man, I’m not going to gossip like a little girl.”
Blake laughed. “And yet you seem to know exactly what’s going on.” The light changed, and he accelerated smoothly through the intersection.
“Mandy’s Karen’s best friend. I probably knew you were going to get some before you did.”
“So I can trust her?”
“Yes.” Daniel spoke absolutely, conviction solid in his voice. “She won’t sell you out.”
“Great.” Although he hadn’t really been worried about it, he still felt better for the reassurance. “She got any major hang-ups I should know about?”
“Mandy? Nah. Just the usual woman crap.” Daniel paused. “Why?” He suddenly sounded wary.
“No reason.” Daniel might be a good friend, but Blake wasn’t going to pour out his troubles like a little girl. “Thanks, man. See you later.”
Daniel mumbled something in response, probably already thinking about his latest project, and Blake disconnected the call.
* * * *
Mandy closed her front door and flipped the lock. It had surprised her how disappointed she’d been when she’d seen Blake’s truck had gone. It was silly. Why would he still have been there, especially after her barely-polite note?
And that was another thing. What had possessed her to write that note? ‘See you around’? Could she have been any more dismissive? She hadn’t even given him her phone number. What kind of idiot had sex with Blake Hawley and forgot to give him her phone number?
Blake's Choice Page 2
