No More Mr. Nice Guy

by Amy Andrews

  Josie whimpered, rotating her hips, flexing them up toward him, presenting herself to him.

  It almost killed him to ignore that particular invitation, but he wasn’t finished yet. He dragged the cube down farther, following the path of the water droplet.

  “Mack,” she cried out around the gag as he let the cube linger against the pucker of her anus before gliding it farther south into the heat and the wet. Her position made it easy to find the entrance he was looking for, easy to slip the ice inside, easy to push it high against just the right spot.

  “Ahh!”

  She bucked and rotated her hips urgently, and there was no way he could ignore that.

  “You like that?” he asked, reaching forward to rip the gag from her mouth, needing to hear her say it.

  “Oh God,” she gasped, her back arching, her hips swaying wildly. “I need… I can’t…”

  “Shh, it’s okay,” he said as he grabbed two more cubes from the glass and covered her body with his.

  “Yes,” she groaned.

  He rubbed the head of his erection up and down the slick seam of her, teasing a little, the sound of her, “yes, yes, yes,” driving him crazy and, as he poised himself to enter her, he slipped both his upright palms beneath her, cupping her breasts, adjusting the ice cubes until they pressed directly against her nipples.

  She cried out at the shock of it, and he chose that moment to plunge inside, deep and hard, and she shouted again, drowning out his own guttural groan.

  She felt so damn good. Tight and hard and hot, but icy cold, too.

  “Mack.”

  The desperate plea in her voice as she pushed back against him told him exactly what she needed, and his body responded to the primal call.

  “You want more of this?” he asked, his mouth near her ear as he withdrew slowly and then slammed back into her again, the metal of the cuffs clinking against the metal of the heavy wrought ironwork.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  He rubbed the melting ice cubes mercilessly against her nipples. “You want it harder?”

  “Yes.”

  He slammed himself back in again. “Deeper?”

  “Oh God, yes,” she groaned.

  He withdrew his hands, leaving the ice where it was, to grab her hips, to tilt them and drag her to her haunches. The cuffs snapped tight, and she gasped, her fingers wrapping around the bracelet chains for purchase as Mack thrust in further, deeper, than he’d ever been.

  She moaned, pushing back into him again. “More,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”

  So, he gave her more. And more. Thrusting deep and hard, encouraged by the insensible noises coming from her mouth, noises that built him and built him, pushed him closer and closer, setting him on the path of no return.

  And when the ripples started, and he was so close he could almost taste it, he reached between them, finding what he was looking for, rubbing frantically at the tight, hard bead as she moaned, “Oh God, yes, there. There…there…there!”

  Her body stiffened, and her thighs locked, and then she bucked and jerked and reared up, jolting her metal restraints tight, and he followed her into the abyss, the ripples turning to gale force turbulence, boiling and seething and sucking him into the vortex where only pleasure mattered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A few days later, Mack limped into the kitchen to find Sal up and about. He’d left Josie sleeping after their long night of sexual hijinks.

  “Morning,” he said.

  Sal looked at him over her shoulder and then down at his limp, and shook her head. She reached over and pressed a button on the blender, which she’d obviously pre-prepared.

  He sat himself down at a stool, and she plopped an empty glass down in front of him. “What’s this?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer, just waited until the ingredients in the blender were adequately smooshed and turned it off. She pulled the jug off the base, crossed to him, and filled his glass to the top with the thick, creamy preparation.

  “It’s a protein shake,” she said. “You need to keep up your strength there, bucko.”

  He chuckled as he picked up the frosty glass. “I think I need it intravenously. Does it have any sodium in it?”

  “No.” Frowning, she rattled off the list of ingredients. “Why do you need sodium?”

  Mack took a gulp of the drink. It tasted good. Like honeycomb and peaches. “I got a really bad cramp last night.” At the worst possible moment.

  He hauled himself off the stool to make some toast, taking his drink with him. His sore calf muscle protested, and he limped to take some of the strain off it.

  “Good thing she’s not here for much longer. Looks like she’s just about broken you.”

  “Hah! I’ll be fine.” He gulped half his drink. “But keep these coming, okay? You want some toast?”

  They made breakfast in companionable silence and sat opposite each other to eat it. Sal dipped her knife in the tub and spread butter on her piece. “So, is she still feeling guilty about the whole dumping Curtis thing?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “She hasn’t tried to call him or anything?”

  Mack frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  She crunched into her toast. “Does she know what she’s going to do when she gets to London yet?”

  “No idea.”

  Sal blinked at her brother. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”

  Mack picked up his third piece of toast. “We don’t talk. Unless, maybe, it’s discussing which page of the book she wants to attempt next.”

  “Oh.”

  He put down his toast. “You think that’s weird, right?”

  Sal shrugged. “Not necessarily.”

  But Mack didn’t believe her. “She said right from the beginning she didn’t want to talk about Curtis, or anything else for that matter. That she wanted to keep the bedroom about the bedroom.”

  He was giving Josie what she wanted, damn it.

  His sister held up her hands. “Okay. No need to get defensive.”

  “It’s rebound sex,” Mack said, suddenly peeved that she was looking at him like he dragged his knuckles along the ground and attended meetings for sex addiction.

  Josie was insatiable, determined, and very, very distracting. Who was he to deny her?

  Except… There had been times when they were lying together in the afterglow when he had wanted to talk. Not necessarily about anything earth shattering, just conversation.

  But then her hands would wander, and she’d get all distracting again.

  And he’d let her.

  He drained his glass, annoyed at himself and Sal for putting some grime on his shine. “It’s not like I have to get to know her. I’ve known her since she was ten years old. I know everything about her.”

  “Well, actually, you know a lot more about her now.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly,” Sal repeated nonchalantly, nibbling on her toast.

  He narrowed his eyes at her deceptively casual reply and shook his head. “She said you’d get like this.”

  Sal frowned. “Like what?”

  “All match-makey.”

  She looked affronted for about two seconds before she grinned at him. “I’ve got to admit, now I’m over the shock and used to seeing you together, you do make a very good couple.”

  “Sal…” He reached across the counter and covered her hand in his. “We’re a rebound thing. That’s all.”

  She gave him that funny sad smile that had always torn him in two and placed her other hand over top of their joined ones. “Is that all it really is?”

  His brow furrowed. “She’s going to London next week. That’s all it can be.”

  “It’s not too late. You still have time. Life’s short. Too short.”

  Mack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You said have rebound sex. We’re obliging you.”

  “I see the way you look at her.”

  He pulled his hand back. T
he way he looked at her? What in hell was his sister on about? He looked at Josie like he couldn’t wait to get her naked. Because he couldn’t. He saw her, and he wanted her.

  But that was sex. Not whatever the hell trip of fancy Sal was taking.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Sal looked at him with pity in her eyes. “It’s like I’m watching a train wreck in slow motion, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

  “Now, you’re just being melodramatic.”

  “Not true. It’s like when we were kids and you’d bring home a sick animal and nurse it back to health and then couldn’t bear to let it go.”

  “She’s not some injured bird.”

  “I know that, but do you? Can you honestly sit there and tell me you’re not going to want to keep her at the end of all this?”

  Mack glared at her. Tragedy had made Sal an apparent expert on relationships other than her own. “I know what this is.”

  Josie chose that moment to enter the kitchen, yawning sleepily, completely side-tracking him from his annoyance. She was wearing her long silky gown tied at her waist and clinging everywhere, her hair was all mussy, and her expression was all dreamy, and he knew he was the one who’d put it there and, God help him, he wanted her again. He wanted to grab her hand and drag her back to bed, slide off that gown and hear her sigh his name as he slid on home.

  Home?

  What the fuck? Since when had Josie become home? This was his home. The flat…the veterinary practice…Sal.

  He glanced at his sister, who was watching him like a hawk, and he sat up a little straighter, beating back the low hum of confusion.

  “Tell her Josie,” he said as the woman of his hot, nightly sexcapades popped two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Tell her we’re just rebound sex.”

  She smiled blissfully over her shoulder at both of them. “Best rebound sex I’ve ever had,” she said, and then turned back to her ministrations.

  He glanced back at Sal in triumph. “See,” he mouthed.

  “Oh, I see,” she murmured quietly, popping the rest of her toast in her mouth, collecting their plates, and rising from her chair.

  He had a feeling he hadn’t persuaded her one little bit.

  …

  That night, goaded by Sal’s silent condemnation of how little he knew about Josie’s future direction, Mack hatched a plan. They were going on a date. A real date. Where people talked. They didn’t have to talk about Curtis, but they could talk about other things, surely?

  Ordinary, everyday things people who slept with each other talked about.

  He’d booked a quality restaurant—a very busy, very public restaurant—and they were going on a date.

  When she and Sal got in from another of their mammoth shopping expeditions, he sprung the news on her. His sister nodded approvingly. Josie not so much.

  “You want to go out?” she pouted, standing in the doorway to his bedroom, watching him as he gathered his keys and wallet.

  Mack chuckled. She sounded like he’d asked her to spend the night having a root canal with him rather than a pleasant evening together at one of the city’s finest dining establishments. “Yes.”

  “I’ve been thinking about staying in all afternoon.”

  He turned to face her. “I feel like eating out.”

  “How about a compromise?” she said as she walked toward him, a determined gleam in her cat eyes. “We could order out but eat in?” She slid her arms around his neck, and it was the most natural thing in the world to slide his hands onto her backside.

  She nuzzled his neck, and her scent surrounded him. “We could have a bed picnic.”

  He shut his eyes as the essence of her wound silken tentacles around his determination. “A bed picnic, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her lips brushed higher. “And you know the best thing about bed picnics, right? They’re very informal. No dressing up. In fact, no clothes required at all.”

  A hot fist slammed into Mack’s groin and grabbed a handful of his flesh as her lips made their way to his, and he groaned against her mouth as she lavished him with a deep, wet kiss that left them both gasping.

  “Plus, I’ve been thinking about page fifty-two a lot today.”

  Mack had no idea what was on page fifty-two, but he wanted to do it really freaking bad.

  Except…He really needed to do this more.

  “Okay,” he said, pulling out of her embrace because he couldn’t think with the taste and smell of her addling his senses. “I’ll make you a deal. Restaurant first. Page fifty-two later.”

  She folded her arms and glared at him a little before finally huffing out a sigh. “Fine. But I give you fair warning. I will try and grope you under the table.”

  Mack grinned. “In that case, I’ll let you.”

  …

  Josie timed her opening salvo well as she leaned forward a little to be seated at the popular riverside restaurant. She only had a limited time with Mack, and she didn’t want to waste any of it on public activities. Not when the private ones were so damn good.

  “I was thinking we’d just skip straight to dessert,” she said.

  Mack, who was ogling her cleavage, nodded. “Okay.”

  Josie laughed. “Well, that was easy.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “I assumed the purpose of your dress was to make me easy.”

  She blushed; she had played dirty with the dress. The black, clingy number wasn’t new, but it emphasized her breasts with its just-short-of-plunging crisscross neckline, complimented her red hair, and flattered her curves. And because she knew how much he liked it down, she’d pulled her hair into a sleek knot at the back of her head.

  But he could hardly talk, either. She doubted he was aware of how sexy he looked in designer threadbare jeans that cradled his butt to perfection, or that female heads turned as he strode in with that lazy, long-legged stride of his.

  His shirt, the exact olive green of his eyes, pulled a little across the breadth of his chest, and his rolled up sleeves exposed sculpted forearms. His boots were comfortably worn, his hair endearingly shaggy, and his unshaven jaw nicely scruffy.

  He oozed testosterone, and Josie shivered thinking about how good those whiskers were going to feel on her body.

  After the waiter took their drink order, Mack’s attention was completely focused on her. Or her cleavage, anyway.

  “So, what do we do now?” she asked.

  “We talk.”

  She tensed. “I told you. I don’t want to talk about Curtis, about what happened.”

  “No, I don’t mean him…” Mack said, shooting her a reassuring smile. “Just talk to me, tell me anything. Like—”

  “The fact I’m not wearing any underwear?”

  He gave her a stern look, but not before Josie had seen a nervous little swallow and the way his gaze briefly dropped, like he was trying to deploy his x-ray vision to see through the table and her dress.

  “Like what are your plans for London?”

  “Spend some time with Mum, first and foremost. I’ve missed her since she moved there with her new man.”

  “I remember a time when you would have gladly seen her living on the other side of the world,” he mused.

  “I know,” she grimaced. She and her mother had walked a rocky path over the years. “But now she’s finally found herself a keeper she’s so…settled. Content. She’s a different person these days.”

  “Okay. Spend time with your Mum, then what?”

  Josie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You must have some idea. The Josephine Butler I know would have had it all planned down to the last second.” There was exasperation in his voice.

  She snorted. “The Josephine Butler you know wouldn’t be indulging in a sex list, either. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m trying to be a different Josephine Butler.” For once, she was trying to live in the moment.

  “I liked the old one.” He shrugged.

  “Rea
lly?” She smiled and leaned forward, causing her cleavage to gape a little. “More than this one?”

  He swallowed as he dragged his attention back to her face. “They both have excellent qualities.”

  Good answer. “I’m just trying to shake things up a little bit.”

  The waiter came with their drinks and left with their dessert orders. “And does that apply to all areas of your life?” he asked as he raised his glass to her and they clinked them together. “Will you be looking at doing something different on the employment front?”

  Josie watched him sip his red wine. “Yeah…maybe. I’ve loved counseling students, but there are a lot of other areas where I could put my services to good use.”

  “I would say the possibilities are endless.”

  “I’ve always been kind of interested in working with people in crisis, but I’d have to up my skills a little first.”

  “You can do that,” he murmured. “You can do whatever you want, Josie.”

  His words hit her right between the eyes. She could do whatever she wanted. She’d dragged herself out of a sexual rut. She could certainly do the same with her career.

  The thought was liberating.

  “There’s this agency in London where you can put your name down, and they have a lot of work on their books, apparently. I think I might do that. Initially, anyway.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Actually, it sounds terrifying. It’ll take me right out of my comfort zone.”

  His hand settled on hers. “I think the list has already done that.”

  Josie laughed. Wasn’t that the truth? “Oh, hell yeah.”

  So much stuff that was completely out of her comfort zone had happened this week because of that list. She’d had sex in an alley, bought a vibrator, and had so much cunnilingus she was thinking of starting a worldwide appreciation society. Although, surely, there was one already? Hell, she’d been handcuffed, blindfolded, and gagged.

  All thanks to Mack.

  It had been the best week of her whole damn life, and it was seriously, freaking tempting to never, ever leave.