Mr. Naughty: A Second Chance Christmas Romance

by Kara Hart

  I laugh and hold the phone against my ear, shaking a little. I nod to myself, as if this is all normal.

  “Yeah. That does make a little sense, I guess. Okay. I’ll be there soon,” I say.

  “Bye, Olivia.” He hangs up the phone.

  All I do is grab my shoes. I don’t even turn to look at myself in the mirror. I already know that I look terrible right now. My face is probably all red and puffy, like I haven’t slept for days.

  Somehow, it feels good to leave my house without any preparation. It’s like I’m rebelling against everything I’ve been taught to be.

  Normally, I spend hours getting ready, hours in front of the mirror, while applying all of my tireless makeup. Then, there is fixing my hair and picking out the right outfit. Right now, I’m just trying to find a good way to breathe normally.

  It’s not long before I’m at his house. When he opens the door, I see that he wasn’t lying. It almost looks like he’s been up all night too, though I can’t be sure and I don’t press him on it.

  “Hey, you,” he says. “You came. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I came,” I smile back. “I guess I don’t really have anything else going on.”

  “Come on in.” He turns and heads for his living room. “Sandra isn’t around?”

  “No, she’s at the hospital, on shift,” I say.

  “Oh, she’s a doctor?” he asks. Small talk.

  “Nurse,” I say.

  He sits down on his nice leather couch. I sit down next to him and give a polite smile.

  “Oh!” he exclaims. “Before I forget.”

  He reaches down beside the couch and grabs something of medium size. He picks it up and hands it to me. My eyes light up.

  “Oh, Cole,” I whisper. “You kept this the whole time?”

  “Merry Christmas,” he says.

  It’s a small jar, shaped in a heart. I made it in high school art class. I gave it to him right when we started dating.

  He smiles. “Of course I kept it. Every so often, I pull it out of my closet. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, so this is really weird.”

  I hold the jar in my hand and I open it. I look inside. There are a lot of different memories in there. Petals of flowers I gave him, notes we exchanged, love letters, and pictures.

  I don’t want to tell him that I threw mine away a long time ago. When I found out what he did, I had to. I couldn’t take the pain. It was my best and only way of moving forward.

  “This is crazy,” I smile.

  I pull out a note and read a few sentences: I know that whatever happens, we’ll always find each other. The waters of love are turbulent, yet promising. Keep treading the tide…”

  “Kind of eerie,” he says.

  “It’s like a prophesy.” I laugh a little, but I’m trying to hold back from tearing up again. “Ugh.”

  I grab a photo and hold it up. It’s us, right before we went to prom together.

  “I love this photo,” he says.

  “I can’t believe how skinny I was back then,” I laugh. “And you! Look at those bleached tips. My God.”

  “I was very fashion-forward,” he says.

  “You were always hanging with the cool crowd, that’s for sure,” I say.

  “Yeah. So were you,” he says.

  “I hung out with everybody, not just the cool crowd,” I proudly reply.

  “True. I remember one of your friends told me that you used to sit at the special needs table once a week. I thought that was really cool,” he says.

  “Yeah right. You probably thought it was dumb. I know some of your friends did at least,” I frown.

  “I don’t remember what my friends thought. I don’t know any of them now, anyway. I was really proud to know you back then, actually. It was like by knowing you, I might be able to be a good person. Like, transitive property, or whatever.”

  “Now what do you think about me? Do you still think I’m some heartless bitch who ruined your life? Or are you proud of me again?” I ask.

  “I never thought you were a heartless bitch,” he says, looking down at the carpet.

  “Lies,” I say. “I know what you think of me, Cole. There’s no use in trying to conceal your thoughts.”

  “Look, I don’t want to focus on the past anymore,” he says. “I’m tired. I’m tried of blaming you. You’re here now. I think that’s some sort of gift of life. It’s almost like we had to find each other again.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper. “Or maybe this is just life’s way of bringing us together, so we can say goodbye.”

  There’s a short silence, which he ultimately breaks. “You want to know what I think about you?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  I clutch onto my purse, ready to pounce out the door if he starts to get mean.

  He pauses for a second, before continuing. “Well, I saw you again when I was on that stupid date. Remember? She slapped my face and screamed at me.”

  “I remember,” I laugh a little.

  “I couldn’t stop staring at you. You were the most intriguing person I had ever seen,” he says.

  “You just thought I was hot,” I interject.

  “Well, yeah. You are hot. But it’s more than that. You have a soul that beckons to me, or something,” he says.

  “Beckons to you?” I repeat his words.

  “Calls to me. Whatever. I know you think I’m just some asshole who doesn’t give a fuck about anything, but after seeing you, I had to give you my number. You were stunning, you have a gorgeous womanly figure, and when I finally got to talk to you, I realized just how deep you are,” he says.

  “Well, you are a good fuck,” I say.

  A smirk forms on his face. “It’s not fair that I can’t get a second date. What do I have to do to make it up to you?” he asks.

  His fingers brush the edge of my thigh. I spread my legs apart a little. He looks down and I blush.

  My heart starts to pound wildly. Fuck, why does he have to make me feel this way? It’s like right when I get mad at him, I realize all the good he has to offer.

  I get choked up on my desires. I should have just stayed home and called it a day.

  “Apologize to me,” I find myself saying. “Apologize and admit you did something wrong.”

  He falters. He stays silent. He searches for the right answer. But after a minute, he nods to himself with quiet resolve.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for blaming you. It was a lifetime ago. I don’t know what happened. I probably have it twisted around,” he says.

  “You actually apologized,” I say. “I’m shocked.”

  “I’m not a bad guy,” he says. “But I have fucked up a lot, so I guess I understand why you’d think that about me.”

  “It’s okay. I guess we all fuck up. This time, it was really painful for me,” I admit. “I know it’s stupid. All of that stuff happened so long ago. It was like a whole other lifetime ago. But we used to stay up at night, talking about our wedding. Remember that? We were so young, but we planned so much together. I mean, I was best friends with your mom, Cole. We were so connected, and then it just all fell apart so fast.”

  “I know. It doesn’t even seem real when I think about it. Yet, it practically shaped my whole life,” he says. “What if we were meant to find each other again? What if we were supposed to end up separated, only so we could grow without one another, before finding each other again.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I shrug. “But you can have another date with me.”

  “Does this count as number 2?” he smiles.

  “No, this is reconciliation. Doesn’t count,” I laugh. “Merry Christmas.”

  “In that case…”

  Cole runs into the kitchen. I hear him grab something.

  “Want to stay for a couple of drinks?” he asks.

  “Cole, I shouldn’t…” I mutter. He just holds the bottle above his head higher. “Well, okay. Maybe just for two drinks.”

>   “Yes!” He smiles big. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

  “Naturally,” I laugh.

  He grabs two glasses and pours some wine.

  “Cheers,” he says.

  “Cheers.” I hold my cup in the air.

  He grabs a remote, turns on some music, and leans back in his chair.

  “Is this how you seduce the ladies? With some R’NB music, wine, and your gorgeous living room?” I ask.

  “Are you seduced?” He winks.

  “Somewhat,” I say. “Although, it’s kind of bright in here.”

  He turns down the lighting and looks at me, not smiling or frowning. He’s just looking right through me.

  “I love your cheekbones,” he says.

  “You’re creepy,” I blush.

  “Sure,” he mutters.

  He grips the wine glass by the stem. He continues to look at me. Finally, he smiles deviantly.

  “What’re you smiling about?” I ask.

  “I just can’t believe I’m next to you,” he says.

  Shit. Are we really going to do this? We’re so close to each other on this couch. I can practically feel his warmth. I can smell his cologne. The deep rumble of his voice echoes next to me. Fuck, we are going to do this. Aren’t we?

  His hand finds its place on my thigh again. My pulse quickens and my muscles tense up, only to loosen again within seconds.

  This feels so familiar and good, yet I have so much fear that this will blow up in my face. If Sandra was here, she’d kill me. I already know she’s going to give me the all too familiar “girl-talk” tomorrow.

  “Can I touch you?” he asks.

  He scoots his hand up my thigh. He already knows that I want him to. He knows that I’m not going to stop him.

  “As if you need to ask,” I say.

  He places his other hand around my waist. I scoot my butt closer to him. His fingers snake closer to the ends of my shirt. He pulls it slowly over my head.

  I’m staring at him, shirtless. I’m as wet as I can possibly be.

  “I love your lips,” he says. “These beautiful lips.”

  He puts a finger against my lips. I close my eyes and feel my body tremble with desire.

  “You taste so sweet. Like sugar,” he says. “I want to taste you again.”

  He leans forward and we’re pulled together by our magnetic energy. Destined to meet again, our lips kiss and our tongues slide against one another.

  He tastes sweet and manly, like the wine he just drank. Dark and red. Crisp and deep.

  I place my hand against his jeans. Things start to speed up. We can’t take our lips off of each other, except for the occasional tireless breath or nibble against the neck or lips.

  We’re so connected to one another, even after all these years, that it surprises both of us. Every touch, every kiss, and every moan feels so comfortable and right. It’s almost as if we’re two lost puzzle pieces, finally found after more than a decade of being lost.

  “Touch me,” I whisper.

  He grabs the top of my spandex pants and pulls it down to my ankles.

  “You’re not wearing any underwear,” he whispers.

  “To make it easier for you,” I smile.

  I grab his cock and I feel how hard he is.

  “Jesus,” I whisper.

  “I’ve been fantasizing about this since you stormed out that night. I’m aching for you, Olive.”

  Olive. His pet name for me. It’s cute and reminds me that things can always come back.

  He finally touches me, spreading open my lips. He pulls my pants down and pushes me onto my back. He spreads my legs wide.

  He dives in like it’s his calling. He eats me and laps his tongue around my wet hole. His heart is set on it.

  He makes me cum within minutes. The whole couch vibrates with my body’s movements. He wastes no time, sliding his cock inside of me.

  Both of our eyes widen quickly, as the warmth of our bodies surround the parts that feel the most. He fills me with his strength and holds me into place, while I give the best gift I can to him.

  He presses his body against mine. For what seems like ages, we look into each other’s eyes and feel as every inch disappears. His huge arms wrap around my body and pull me in, as if I’m his prey. I let him take every part of me.

  He slides back inside, grinning. Lost in the maze of lust, he holds one cheek of my ass open. As he thrusts forward with all his might, he cups each breast longingly. He tongues at each taut nipple.

  “God!” he grunts. “This body. It’s perfect.”

  “It’s yours,” I say. Though, I’m not sure for how long.

  Right now, I want this to last forever. Tomorrow may be another story, but I don’t want to have to think that far ahead. I want to be able to make mistakes and to feel good in the moment.

  “All mine?” he smiles. “Good.”

  He pushes me against the wall, forcing my back to arch for him.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, slapping my ass, hard.

  As he spreads my ass apart, he mounts me. He fucks me slow, deep, and with purpose.

  He wants to give it to me as hard as he can. Back when we were together, we had sex, but it wasn’t ever like this. It was awkward and goofy. He’s turned into a perfect man. It’s hard to fault him anymore for something that happened a million years ago.

  For once in my life, I feel comforted and safe with a man. I feel like every bad thing in my life might finally be able to disappear.

  I lose myself in him again and find my legs shaking. I cum again, harder than ever. And when I come to, I’m shaking because of him.

  “Look at me,” he whispers. “I want to stare into your eyes when I cum.”

  His body grows weak, and then tense. He starts to shake with pleasure.

  “Cum inside me,” I whisper.

  It’s safe. I’ve been on the pill for at least five years with no problems, but it’s the risk that gets him off. He has no idea.

  “Fill me with your cum,” I whisper.

  He kisses me, deep. He opens his eyes wide and I can see the loss of control in his eyes. He’s losing himself. He’s falling apart.

  “I’m cumming,” he groans.

  I don’t keep my eyes off him. I keep staring as his pupils widen. I feel his cock pump wildly against my pussy. I feel every last drop shoot into me.

  He collapses onto the floor, kissing the back of my ass. He curls his arms around my waist and whispers, “I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.”

  Chapter 15: Cole

  “Stay the night,” I plead. “Come on. We can cuddle and talk.”

  “We already did that,” she says.

  Her clothes are in her hand. I have already lost the battle.

  “Well, you can’t drive drunk. Can you?” I ask, trying to find every reason for her to stay here with me.

  “I’ll take an Uber home. I have work tomorrow, Cole,” she says. “Seriously, I can’t stay.”

  “Fine. I know when to give up,” I say. “But will you see me tomorrow?”

  “After work? Is that our second date?” she asks.

  “Sure. It can be whatever you want it to be. I just want to see you again,” I say.

  “You’re crazy and delusional. You would get tired of me eventually,” she says.

  But I won’t. I’ll never get tired of pounding that ass. At least, that’s how it’s feeling to me right now.

  I’m willing to let the past go if she is. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I was 18. I was so fucking young. I’ve had my time to think things over.

  Somehow, we’ve found each other again. I don’t believe these signs too much, but I have to pursue it. I have to see where it all leads.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at seven,” she says. “My place. Shit, my car is here.”

  She kisses my lips, deep and sensual, like she doesn’t want to let go.

  When she leaves, she waves and gives a polite, yet sad smile. She closes the door
. She’s gone.

  I pick up my shirt from the floor. It’s her. It’s her damn scent. I’m never going to be able to get her off me.

  Later, Eric calls me up to talk. I can’t help but mention her name. It pisses him off.

  “I can’t believe you saw her again, man. That’s the worst decision you could make right now. She’s got you where she wants you now,” he says.

  “It’s not like that,” I say. “There are no power dynamics here, unless you mean when we’re fucking.” I smile.

  “That’s what you think. First, it’s the sex. Then, as things move along, you start to get comfortable. Right when you think you’ve got it all figured out, she plays your fears against you. I’ve seen it a million times,” he says.

  I take his advice with a grain of salt. I know what I want and it’s her.

  “I don’t know, man. I’m pretty sure you’ve never had the kind of connection that me and Olive have,” I say, with a slight tinge of pride attached to the sentence.

  “Olive?” he exclaims. “Olive! You call her Olive now?!”

  “What? It’s what I used to call her,” I say.

  I’m pretty sure my manhood just dropped one hundred points.

  “Oh, fuck. You guys really have lost your mind. Haven’t you? Look, bro. I’m just trying to warn you. This sounds insane,” he says.

  “Yeah, yeah. I heard you say that the last time. Nothing bad is going to happen. Why are you worrying so much?” I ask him.

  “Because man,” he says, and takes a pause to consider the thought. “After what happened… I don’t know.”

  Eric has suffered more than most men. I don’t blame him for his caution, even if it’s unrealistic.

  “I got it,” I say.

  “Anyway,” he says. “I have a date tonight. First time in a long time, actually.”

  “You serious?” I ask. “Who’s the lady?”

  “Sandra,” he says.

  “Eric. Don’t tell me you’re serious, man. Don’t fuck things up for me.” I grimace.

  There’s a bad taste in my mouth about all of this.

  He sighs with desperation. “What? What’s so bad about that? She’s hot. She’s single. She might even be crazier than me,” he says.