No More Mr. Nice Guy

by Amy Andrews

  What were friends for?

  Slowly, he peeled back the sheet to reveal just how much he wanted her. “I’m interested,” he said, his low voice husky in the still of the night.

  It was satisfying to see her eyes widen. To hear the quiet hiss of pent up air as it escaped her chest and the reverence of her faint, “Oh, my.”

  His erection hardened to an almost unbearable tightness as she feasted her eyes, one hand splayed on her abdomen, the other bunching and unbunching the fabric of her shirt at the hem, inching it up a little further. He almost groaned out loud as she stared and stared, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip again. Thinking about those lips, that mouth sinking down around him, exploring his length and girth, tasting him, heated his groin more.

  He suppressed the urge to shift restlessly beneath her scrutiny, but if she didn’t touch him soon, he was going to spontaneously combust.

  “Your turn,” he murmured letting his eyes roam over her shirt before coming to rest on her face.

  Her hand abruptly stopped the hem scrunching, and she finally dragged her gaze off his raging erection. “Wh-what?”

  Her voice was breathy, and he wanted to hear it just like that in his ear. When she came. “Take your clothes off.”

  “Oh…”

  More breathiness. More standing there startled, her mouth parted, her eyes wide. More scrunching. And then staring again at what lay thick and urgent against his belly.

  “I want to see you, Josie.”

  …

  Josie almost whimpered out loud as the husky request went straight to the tingle that had fired to life between her legs as Mack had exposed himself. The sensation undulated along the muscles deep inside her belly and tightened nipples that rubbed erotically against the fabric of her shirt.

  A flash of how he’d licked and sucked them in the alley played through her mind, and her breath hitched.

  He studied her intently, waiting, and her hand dropped from her belly to her hem to do his bidding. But it was hard not to get distracted. She’d been lying in bed, wondering what his penis would look like, and there it was, in all its glory.

  So much more beautiful than she’d ever imagined.

  Long and thick and hard, the base nestled in a dark thatch of hair, giving way to a taut, towering girth, an engorged vein, and a thick plump head.

  The urge to touch it, to taste it, rose in her, and her mouth went dry. Curtis had never been a fan of oral sex, but Mack, lying there in all his glory, looked like he was totally up for it. She licked suddenly dry lips.

  “God, Josie…”

  She dragged her focus away at the note of desperation in Mack’s voice. Their eyes locked. There was lust and need and heat, and he was looking at her, still waiting.

  What did he want, again?

  Oh, yes. Naked.

  Right.

  Tentatively, she inched the hem of her T-shirt up her thighs. He watched her every minute movement, and her nipples hardened in blatant response. She inched the fabric up past her underwear, and the muscle at the angle of his jaw clenched as his gaze zeroed in on the damp scrap of material as if it wasn’t even there.

  As if she was already bared to him.

  “More,” he murmured.

  Josie complied, tugging it up a little more, exposing her belly. And then a little more to her ribs. Then a little more until cool air hit the underside of her breasts.

  His eyes were glued to the slow reveal. “All the way,” he whispered.

  The request was not much more than a croak, and it galvanized her quicker than any harsh command.

  It oozed sex.

  She lifted the shirt over her head and threw it on the ground. And then she was standing there, almost fully exposed in front of him, her heart beating an erratic tattoo, her breathing rasping like sandpaper into the air.

  “Jesus,” he breathed. His eyes devoured her, riveting on her breasts, each sweep of his gaze like the wet swipe of his tongue. Her nipples flowered and then constricted in shameless abandon. “You’re beautiful.”

  Her face heated. She felt beautiful. Curtis hadn’t ever seemed that enamored with her walking around in next to nothing. But Mack looked as if he was about to cover her in whipped cream and sprinkles and take a really big bite.

  When he finally dragged his eyes off her breasts, he pointed at her underwear. “Those off, too. I want to see all of you.”

  Her pulse spiked at the low growl. She tucked her thumbs inside the elastic of her bikini briefs and then faltered. She remembered she wasn’t exactly…groomed for this eventuality. Sal had insisted only last night, during one of their many inebriated conversations, that men liked some landscaping, and if she was going to go out into the world to have some fun and adventure then she needed to be fully prepared.

  She had been reluctant, but had agreed to the appointment at some flashy salon next week for some plucking and waxing just to get bossy Sal off her back.

  Standing in front of Mack now, she’d bet a night of truly incredible sex with him that his ex, Cynthia, had always looked after herself in the downstairs department.

  “I’m not exactly…” She blushed just thinking about how to even explain it. “It’s been a while since my last visit to the salon. Things are a little…overgrown.”

  The frown on Mack’s face slowly disappeared as her predicament slowly dawned. And then he chuckled—deep and rich and sexy—and her nipples practically lost blood supply they constricted so rapidly.

  She’d bet anything there wasn’t a Guinness World Record for that.

  “Thank God,” Mack rasped. “I don’t understand why women feel the need to look like little girls.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. Now take them off, damn it, or I will, and I can promise you, by the time I’ve ripped them off with my teeth, they’ll be a shredded mess, and they look way too pretty for that.” He pushed off the wall and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. “What’s it going to be?”

  Josie couldn’t decide if she was mortified or turned on by the idea that he would consider tearing off her underwear. With his teeth.

  But she slipped them down in record speed, and then she truly was naked before him. The urge to place her hand in front of herself was strong, but he was looking at her there with the same intensity as her breasts.

  Like he’d just found another place to spread the whipped cream.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Part of Josie rebelled—why was she here fulfilling some male sexual fantasy? Taking her clothes off according to his whim while he sat there, giving orders, watching her like that?

  But the other part was all kinds of turned on.

  She was here for the chemistry. The sexual adventure. The list.

  For the turn on.

  And she was very turned on.

  She walked toward him, awkwardly at first, hyperaware of her nudity and the way his gaze traveled from the juncture of her thighs to her breasts and then back again. She stopped in front of him, just out of reach. The mattresses were low, and she was most definitely dominating now.

  “Closer,” he murmured.

  Josie drew in a ragged breath as she inched closer, looking down at him as he zeroed in on the exact spot where she throbbed and ached and tingled. Just the movement of her thighs, the divine, slippery friction of it, was enough to take her to the edge without him looking like he was about to devour her.

  She was a loaded gun: cocked and ready to fire.

  Mack looked up at her as he reached for her hips and dragged her closer still. His head was level with her damp red curls; his warm breath caressed her thighs. “Hold on to my shoulders.”

  Josie barely registered the low request. She couldn’t think for the sight of him below her, his head so close, so intimately positioned, a look of utter purpose in his eyes.

  “Wh-what?” she asked, her voice husky as her lust-drunk brain scrambled to keep up. Hold on? “Why?”

  He grinned at her then. “B
ecause I’m about to number ten you, and at some stage, you will lose the ability to hold yourself upright.”

  Her legs nearly gave out on her right there and then.

  “You might also like to remember that Sal is a light sleeper. Try not to be too loud.”

  And then he leaned in and put his mouth on her.

  Her belly clenched violently as her legs almost gave way, and she groped blindly for his broad, smooth shoulders as ecstasy forced her eyes closed and her head back.

  “Oh my God,” she groaned as she shamelessly widened her stance.

  His tongue slid hot and hard over all the right places. Parting, sinking in, seeking out with ruthless efficiency. He found the hard nub of her clitoris within seconds and flayed it mercilessly like he knew she had only a tenuous hold on her sexual control. His hands held her firmly. His fingers clamped on her hips as she bucked and squirmed.

  His whiskers added another dimension, tickling and stimulating, prickling in all the right places.

  She looked down, and the sight of him worshipping between her legs was all the stimulus she needed to push her off the tightrope into freefall. Her orgasm had been building from the moment his tongue had swiped straight down her center, and suddenly, it broke.

  She gasped, threw her head back, clamped her hand in his hair, and held him there, right where he was, not wanting him to move or shift or alter in any way, just to keep going and going and going, and somehow, miraculously, she remembered to be quiet, whimpering her release instead of bellowing it.

  And then her legs did give way. But he didn’t stop. His tongue continued its relentless quest for her pleasure even as his hands gripped her hips harder, his forearms braced against her suddenly boneless thighs, his knees clamped tight around her calves.

  As the tail of her orgasm streaked into the distance, everything suddenly seemed weightless, the ground fell away, and she was airborne, floating for a moment before falling softly, softly against sheet and mattress and pillow.

  Eyes fluttering closed on a contended sigh.

  Vaguely, she heard fumbling and then foil tearing and then Mack looming over her, kissing her mouth, savoring the taste of her on his lips. Him whispering she was beautiful, kissing her neck, pushing her legs apart with his thigh, feeling the thick nudge of his erection.

  “No, no, no. Not like this. Not missionary.”

  Not like how she and Curtis used to do it.

  Rolling over on top of him, dominating him, impaling herself. His low groan pushing into the air and then raining down on her like confetti as she rode him.

  Hissing out a yes. Yes, yes, yes. The remnants of her orgasm stirring like embers given oxygen once more. Feeling the tremble of his muscles in his shoulders, whimpering as his hand reached between them, finding the spot again, stroking it, rubbing it.

  Building her again. Building her with him.

  Hearing his muffled cry as every muscle in his body locked rigid for a second and then let loose in a rush of furious release. Leaping and flying with him as he thrust up into her, practically lifting her on and off him, riding the pleasure into the night, to all the places it took them for as long as it lasted, biting down hard against the urge to yell.

  Gasping as it tumbled them out the other end, collapsing on top of him, lying boneless and sated.

  “God,” Josie panted. “I’d forgotten how good number ten could be.”

  …

  Mack, every muscle in his body sticky and slumberous, gave a half laugh. He turned his head to face her. “Plenty more where that came from.”

  She laughed, too, and it sounded sexy and sleepy. “I think I’m going to need some recovery time.”

  He grinned. “I’m damn sure I am.” He shifted, displacing her. “Hold that thought, I’ll be right back,” he said, rousing protesting muscles.

  He hauled his arse out of bed. As he reached the door to the bathroom, he looked over his shoulder, and his breath hitched.

  She hadn’t moved an inch. Her hair was spread out all around her on the pillow, her legs akimbo. One hand rested low on her belly, the other rested on her chest, her fingers almost brushing a nipple.

  A delicious, light, mocha nipple.

  Her eyes were shut, but there was a tiny uplift to her lush, beautiful mouth as if she was thinking dirty things. She looked satisfied. Very satisfied.

  And he’d been the one responsible.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling this freaking awesome, like he wanted to beat his chest and holler. He’d been with other women but this…this was different.

  Josie was special. And he didn’t think it had anything to do with their fifteen-year friendship.

  His breath faltered in his chest at the thought, and he knew if he let himself, he’d analyze it to death. He was way too happy to go there.

  Mack smiled to himself as he entered the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. He quickly disposed of the condom and cleaned up, catching his reflection in the mirror as he quietly washed his hands. Even in the low light, he doubted he’d ever seen a more satisfied man.

  Josie. He shook his head. If someone had told him a few days ago that he and little Josephine Butler would be naked and doing the wild thing, he would have written them a prescription for doggy Prozac.

  But here she was. In his bed. After having done it not just once but twice. And planning on doing it a helluva lot more than that.

  Thirteen days of it, to be precise.

  After six months of feeling like crap, he suddenly felt bulletproof.

  He grinned at himself one last time and tiptoed out of the bathroom.

  Chapter Nine

  Josie still hadn’t moved when he re-entered the bedroom, and he took a moment to look at her. His gaze trekked up her legs and came to rest on the red curls that lay between them. His blood heated a little just thinking about the way she’d come apart so quickly as he’d tasted her.

  Miraculously, somehow, his dick stirred. He wanted her again. He wanted more.

  Already, he knew it was going to be hard to let her go.

  In three strides, he was crawling onto the mattress, slipping his arm under her neck and scooping her closer, pleased when she snuggled into him, settling her head on his shoulder and thrusting her leg over the top of his, her foot burrowing under the calf of the opposite leg.

  “Hey,” she murmured sleepily.

  “Hey.”

  Her hand slid onto his chest and drew lazy circles around his nipples. “You are good at that.”

  Mack chuckled. “Yes. I am.”

  There were long silent moments as he lay back and enjoyed the slow tease of her fingers. His groin went on slow burn as if she was stroking him there instead of considerably higher, and he let his fingers drift up and down her arm.

  “At least you can cross another thing off your list,” he murmured eventually.

  She nodded against his shoulder. “A two-item night,” she said.

  “And it’s not over yet.”

  “God. I think I’m too mind-blown to even remember what’s on the bloody thing now. I can barely remember my own name.”

  Mack chuckled. Hell yeah. Six months of celibacy, and he still had it.

  “Luckily, Sal has a memory of an elephant.”

  Mack shifted a little, reaching out to his bedside table. “No need. I rescued the list from the trash.” He groped around inside the top drawer, where he’d thrown the object in question earlier in the day.

  He pulled it out, then hit the button on the base of the lamp that sat on the top of the table. He squinted against the light as he dangled the list in front of her face.

  Josie pushed herself up until she was resting on an elbow and looking down at him, her leg still firmly in place over his. She scooped her hair off her back and brought it all forward over one shoulder.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “You rescued it?”

  Mack shrugged. “I figured you may regret it. Or”—he smiled as he let his attention drift to her breasts squas
hed nicely against his shoulder—“at the very least need it for when number ten gives you temporary amnesia.”

  “Very funny,” she murmured as she relieved him of it.

  He watched as her eyes flicked back and forth over the contents. After a few moments, she groaned and dropped her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe I wrote this.”

  “Well, I, for one, am very grateful you did.”

  She looked at him, and he marveled that she was still blushing after everything they’d done. And were about to do.

  “I know,” she said. “But I’m still embarrassed. Some of these things—”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t done some of those things already. What the hell was wrong with Curtis?”

  Her body went very still, and he sensed he was wading into turbulent waters.

  “Nothing was wrong with him. He just had a very…straight-laced upbringing.”

  Mack waited a few beats before his next question. “What happened with you guys?”

  Her gaze dropped to his shoulder. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” She glanced up at him again. “Can we please just keep this thing we’re doing about the list?”

  Mack wanted to push some more, but she was clearly embarrassed, and that hadn’t been his objective.

  And maybe she was right, maybe that would be muddying the waters?

  He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled and looked back to the list. “About some of those things.”

  She smiled, too. “What about them?”

  “I think this is only going to work between us if we lay our cards on the table right at the beginning. Like you just did now about Curtis.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, are they open to negotiation?”

  Mack was fine helping her out with the list. Hell, he was chomping at the bit to get into it. In fact, after six months of celibacy he was pretty sure he could blow through the whole list in one night. But there were just some things he wouldn’t do.