Bad Boy Good Man (7 page)

“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.

“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.

The door opened, and my eyes flew open, too.
Antony’s appearance set me back. He was not only fully dressed, but
he was wearing work clothes, a white button down with the sleeves
rolled back and the collar undone, and navy blue trousers that no
doubt belonged with a suit.

It seemed unlikely that he’d been having sex
in all that.

“Ellie.” His expression was surprised and
wary. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting to see me.

“Hi. Um.” I had to force myself to maintain
eye contact and keep my expression neutral. “I really hate to
bother you, but your headboard is banging the wall, again. And, we
just talked about this like, last night, so…”

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding and pushed
the door open wider. I’d never seen into his apartment before. It
was a near mirror of mine. Straight across from the door, past the
living room, was his bed—of course it would be ridiculously
oversized for the space—and atop it stood a red-faced preschooler
in Marvel character PJs.

“Oh.” I drew the word out in sudden
comprehension. It was his nephew, the kid I’d seen in the hall.

“Do you want to come in?” Antony offered.
“I’m just making dinner.”

I hesitated. It was one thing having sex with
him. It was another thing getting involved with his family. “Are
you sure?”

“Yeah, but I have to warn you, I’m not a
fancy chef like you are.” He motioned me inside.

He closed the door and reached to help me
with my coat.

“Who’s that?” the boy on the bed asked,
resuming his jumping.

“This is my friend, Ellie. She lives next
door, and you’re driving her crazy.” Antony pointed sternly to the
floor. “Get down.”

The scolding rolled right off the kid’s back
as he obeyed. Like it was no big deal to be corrected for his
behavior. By that age, I’d been keenly aware of my parents’
disappointment and how to avoid it. Jumping on a bed would never
have been allowed, and if I’d been disciplined for it, I would have
felt guilty for days.

Did it make me weird that Antony’s easy way
with the kid was a super big turn-on?

“Ellie, this is Tony—” Antony began, only to
be interrupted by the kid.

“I’m
Bruce. Banner
,” he insisted.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bruce,” I said with a
little wave. Then, in mock seriousness, I turned to Antony and
said, “Better not make him mad. He’ll Hulk out.”

“Go watch Netflix while we get dinner
finished, Bruce,” Antony instructed, and Tony hopped off to turn on
the huge television.

Antony’s apartment might have been
structurally like mine, but the décor and the layout of his living
space was totally different. His bedroom area was on a raised
platform, two steps up from the floor, and each step had drawers
built in beneath them, all in warm, gleaming wood. A brown leather
couch stood against one wall, a glass coffee table sat in front of
that, strewn with empty beer bottles and piles of paper that
indicated Antony brought his work home with him. The television was
at least fifty inches, set as far across the space as possible from
the couch. Which made sense, because otherwise, he’d go blind.

There were books, too, on shelves that
covered the back wall, splitting to surround the single big window
there.

The Avengers
suddenly blasted from the
television, somewhere in the middle of the movie.

“Sorry,” Antony apologized needlessly. “It’s
on heavy rotation.”

“That’s okay. It could be worse. It could be
Dora The Explorer
or something.” Kids still watched that,
right? I had no idea; none of my friends had children.

I followed Antony into the kitchen. “So, do
you have any other nieces or nephews?”

“Just this one.” He nodded toward the living
room. “He’s a handful, enough.”

“So it’s you and your sister, then?” I
asked.

His expression hardened a touch, and there
was a neutral quality in his voice that was forced. “No. I’ve got a
brother, too, but I haven’t seen him in years. He’s doing ten
upstate for aggravated vehicular assault.”