Authors: Tyler King
Hadley’s fingers curled around the ends of my hair and tightened. That sensation, that awesome feeling of her asking for me, snapped me out of my own head. Every nerve, every ounce of my mental faculties became focused on reciprocating. I slid my hands up her back and held her closer, her chest pressing against mine. When her lips parted to suck in a quick breath, I was too overwhelmed to stop myself from scraping my teeth across her bottom lip and licking the plump flesh I’d fantasized about and obsessed over for the entirety of my sexually active life.
Hadley’s seductive whimper did me in. That was it. That tiny, lustful sound was my breaking point at the very edge of sense. I flipped us over to toss her back to the futon. Hadley writhed under me.
I put up the faintest resistance against my instincts. One more needy moan from Hadley was all it took to break my thin resolve. I ground my cock between her thighs. Jesus Christ, I wanted to taste her. I wanted to slide my tongue along her cunt more than I wanted my next meal.
Shit. I needed to slow down. I hadn’t even copped a feel of her tits and I was already eating her out in my mind while my cock looked for a secret passageway past the button closure on my pants and the seam of her shorts. This was how everything went pear-shaped in the first place.
First rule: Don’t repeat the same mistakes.
“We should stop.” Hadley captured my jaw between her hands, lips swollen and eyes bright.
We both panted as we caught our breath, but all I could do was kiss her again.
Plunging once more into her mouth before nibbling at her lip, I couldn’t hold back a small laugh. Hadley forced my face away from hers. When I met her eyes, a confused crease appeared between her brows.
“What’s so funny?”
“You,” I said. “Me. Us. Get out of my head.”
Hadley smiled, scratching her nails through the stubble on my jaw. Fuck, that felt good. My dick twitched against her thigh.
“If you keep doing that…”
“Sorry.” Punky put on a contrite expression, though her fingers kept right on goading me.
I lifted one eyebrow.
“Okay, not sorry.”
I lunged at her neck, holding her down when she yelped in surprise and pinning her hands above her head. I nipped at her skin, licking the slight flavor of salt from her warm flesh. Hadley arched up, a lustful moan reaching my ears.
“How about right here?” I spoke against her pulse. “My teeth imprinted on your neck.”
“Not for all the dead presidents in your trust fund,” she answered while shoving at my chest. “I’m not wearing the carnivore’s version of a collar around my neck.”
“Fair enough. But your ass is still open for discussion, right? Because if that’s off the table...” I sat up, offering her my hand to help her stand.
“That’s forward, don’t you think? I mean you and my ass have hardly made the proper introductions and already you’re proposing a permanent partnership?” Hadley shrugged, turning away to saunter toward the door.
So sue me, but I couldn’t let her walk away like that. I smacked her ass. She jumped, spinning around with wide eyes.
My answering smile was anything but apologetic. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”
Punky stuck up her middle finger and waltzed out of my room. I stood there feeling equal parts smug and uncertain.
“We still need to lock up,” she called from next door. “And then I thought you could join me for a sleepover.”
“Wait,” I said, calling her back.
She stood in the doorway of my bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
“Haven’t you forgotten something?”
This pit in my stomach had been festering for years. Before we got any further, I needed to hear the words.
“I don’t think so.”
“Anything you want to say?” I hinted.
“Not that I can think of.”
“Come on, Punky. Throw me a damn bone.”
Hadley tackled me to the bed. She straddled me, her hands pinning my shoulders back. “You’re an idiot.”
My hands slid up her thighs to grab her hips. How many fucking times had I pictured this image? Hadley on top of me, her hair loose and soft around her shoulders.
“But you love me.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, and rolled her eyes. “I love you. The hell is wrong with me?”
I reached up and caught her face, running my thumb over her lips. “Not a goddamn thing.”
“Is this still weird?” she asked as her fingers trailed over my shoulders.
“Less so.”
“Now will you come to bed with me?”
I wrapped my arm around her waist and sat up. “We are in bed. On bed, at least.”
“My bed.”
“Does this bother you? It isn’t haunted, you know.”
Now was as good a time as any to get this ugly topic out of the way. If the subject was an issue for her, I’d set the thing on fire in the backyard, but she needed to tell me the truth.
“I’m not interested in punishing you for every random barfly you’ve brought home,” she said. “I guessed the motivation behind it a while ago. Hell, it was my idea. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I shouldn’t be surprised that you took the advice and ran full speed in the wrong direction.”
“Not to get all dickish and clinical at once,” I said, “but you’re the only time I haven’t used a condom and, being brutally honest, I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else who’s been in this bed.”
Granted, I had the market cornered on quantity in this house, but Hadley had never caught an eyeful. If I could get past the memory of Pencil Dick poking at her on the bed next door, surely she could adjust. Or was that the more dickish attitude?
Oh, fuck it.
“I’ll get a new one,” I conceded before I put my foot any farther down my throat and cockblocked myself for eternity. “New sheets and everything.”
Hadley draped her arms over my shoulders, her eyes alight with humor. “No need to wake the AmEx right this second. I was jealous, sure. Can’t help that. But it doesn’t give me the creeps, like I don’t expect specters of booty calls past to circle over my head at night screaming your name.”
“That would be terrifying.”
“It would. We’d have to move. At that I’d put my foot down.”
“No argument.”
“I just want you in my bed tonight. Nothing against this one. It was very good to me during the blackout.”
I grabbed her hips and rolled us over, both of us lying on our sides. This wouldn’t be the last difficult conversation we had, but she needed to tell me what she wanted, set boundaries. Without them, I’d run her over.
“How do we do this?”
“I’m not sure I have an answer for that,” she admitted. “But here’s what I think: In a totally bent sort of way, it kind of feels like we’ve been in a dysfunctional marriage for five years and just made up after we both realized we couldn’t remember why we were fighting.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Go on.”
“You’re the philandering husband coming to terms with his midlife crisis and I’m the frigid housewife—getting some on the side from the pool boy because my husband hasn’t been in to flush the pipes in years—who set fire to your Ferrari because you asked if we were out of milk, but really because you left a birthday card on the dresser one morning but it wasn’t my birthday, and I can only assume your mistress turned twenty-three that day and—”
I pinched her lips together, stupefied at the thorough and unfortunate history. “You’ve put some thought into this.”
She pulled free of my fingers. “No, this shit just comes to me, rolls right off the top of my head.”
“Extraordinary.”
“I know, right?”
“But you said we make up. The remorseful husband who’s recently pulled his head out of his ass and the arsonist wife who, if just a touch psychotic, knows he can’t survive without her.”
“Yeah,” she said. “He comes crawling back with a château in Marseille and a fifteen-carat diamond pendant. The mistress has been indicted for fraud.”
“Strangely,” I said, “the missing sum is right about the going price for one French château and matching diamond.”
“A remarkable coincidence.”
“They reconcile over a bottle of fine Scotch and mind-altering sex.”
“He’s still middle-aged,” she quipped. “He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Boastfulness has always been one of her turnoffs.”
“But they stay together for the kids.”
“No kids. Those two lack the moral fiber to raise children.”
“Then what’s the glue that holds them together?”
“Love,” she answered, because it was obviously the right answer. “And even though he’s older and has lost some of the stamina of his youth, he’s still got a big dick. She’s shallow that way.”
I winked at her, but she refused to take the bait, even when it was still pointed right at her.
“And while she might have a thing for pretty flames and be just a touch different,” she said, “they’re both fucked in one way or another. They don’t operate correctly with anyone else. They can’t function alone and they don’t want to. They are each other’s preferred brand of crazy.”
“Most people will say they’re sick, hopeless.”
“Most people are vapid imbeciles,” she said. “Besides, they have to stay together for Tango and Cash.”
“Tango and Cash?”
“The golden retriever and Chartreux.”
“Ah, of course. He loves the damn cat that pisses in his shoes and the slobbering dog that has chewed a hole through every Italian leather briefcase he’s ever owned.”
“See?” Hadley threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, scratching her nails against the grain.
This fucking woman knew exactly how to touch me.
“They’re perfect for each other,” she said. “And now, after the uncomfortable distance has been put behind them, they fall back into their natural routine, picking up right where they left off.”
“That doesn’t sound so hard,” I said as I brushed her hair behind her ear.
“It doesn’t? I was going for horribly painful and embarrassingly awkward. Shit. Okay, let me start again...”
“I’m going to be late,” Hadley mumbled against my lips.
I ignored her, replacing my tongue in her mouth to shut her the hell up. The morning had gone much the same while she attempted to get ready for school and again while she made breakfast. I’d have preferred to stay in bed.
Hadley went slack in my arms, letting me push her up against the wall at the end of a narrow corridor inside the art building. I’d made it two classes before I had to track her down. Now that we’d gotten it all out in the open, I couldn’t think past the next time I could touch her.
“Seriously,” she whispered. “My professor will have a shit fit if I walk in late.”
“Which class?”
Since she was so determined to ramble on, I diverted my attention to her neck and slid my hands around to the small of her back, pushing up my Bad Religion shirt, which she’d borrowed this morning and tied in a knot around her waist. I’d had a hard-on all the way to campus.
“Pho-tah-graphy lab,” she stuttered, her voice hitching as I nipped at her skin. “Asha and I are...uh...fuck...going shopping for my dress for the reception after that.”
“Take my car,” I answered, kicking her foot to the side so I could press between her legs.
I was done listening and slanted my mouth over hers, again claiming her lips. She bit my tongue.
“Fuck, Punky.” I bit her lip for revenge and because I’d wanted to bite that damn lip for so fucking long.
“I’m not used to kissing you with a tongue piercing,” she said with a smirk.
“And?”
“It’s weird.”
“Just imagine what it will feel like when—”
Hadley didn’t let me finish, but she got the message. Her fists grabbed at my hair, tugging by the roots as she plunged her tongue down my throat. Her leg came up around my hip and I held it there, basically dry humping her like a rutting puppy.
“Smile!” A camera flash went off.
I snapped my eyes to the open end of the corridor and groaned.
“Shit, Asha. You scared me.” Hadley dropped her hands and pushed me away. She arranged her shirt, making sure everything was where it should be.
My dick went into hiding from Tiny Tim. Cockblocking bride of Betsey Johnson’s Frankenstein.
“Delete that,” I snapped.
“Are you kidding?” Asha let the camera hang from the strap around her neck. “I’m having it blown up and framed.”
“No,” Hadley said. “Delete it or I’ll dropkick the camera across the parking lot.”
Asha’s neon pink lips twisted in consternation and her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not going to let me enjoy this?”
“No,” we answered in unison.
* * *
Tossing out the last of the orange chicken I’d bought for lunch—it was marginally better than eating my own shoe and I always regretted ordering from that place—I returned to my quiet corner of the student union reading room.
“MacKay, you handsome bastard, I’m going to kiss you!” Corey didn’t have an inside voice. What he did have was the ability to draw unwanted attention for three square miles.
Every head in the room swung in his direction and watched as he came strutting over with Trey right behind him.
“You know you just tanked your chances of ever getting laid again,” I said. “By a woman.”
He grabbed my arm, yanked me from my comfortable and quiet seclusion, and then squeezed both sides of my face like a fucking goldfish as he smacked a kiss right on my lips. He then threw me back into my chair.
“I love this asshole,” he exclaimed to the room dotted with people who looked equally surprised, amused, and irritated that their sanctuary had been disturbed.
“Okay, big guy. Sit your ass down before someone recruits you for a pride parade.”
Corey’s display of PDA didn’t even break the top 20 on the list of most embarrassing moments I’d been subjected to in his company.
He and Trey took the seats across from me. A table of girls nearby appeared fascinated with attempting to discern how the three of us might play out in their homoerotic fantasies. I couldn’t help myself.
“He’s a bottom,” I said.
“Please stop,” Trey laughed. “I have a class with that girl.” He nodded at the redhead with glasses. “Hi, Jennifer.”
“Hi, Jenny.” Corey turned in his seat, sliding on that easy grin that made chicks trip over their panties falling around their ankles. “He’s kidding. I love tits.”
“On that note,” I announced. “Let’s quit before we’re charged with harassment. Yeah?”
“Says the guy who had a certain brunette up against a wall an hour ago,” was Trey’s retort.
“Thank you, by the way.” Corey reclined in his seat, propping his foot up on the short table between us. “I made twenty dollars off Trey.”
“For fuck’s sake. Will you two please stop running odds on me?”
“Not betting if,” Trey explained, “just when. We had a pool going.”
“You two need lives. And you,” I told Corey, “need a girl.”
“Way ahead of you. I’m taking Grace out to dinner.”
“I thought she hated you.”
Sure, Corey was convinced that Grace was just playing hard to get, but so far Trey agreed with me that “hard” was more like impossible.
“Oh, she does. I’m wearing her down. I fixed her pipes.”
I sat up, biting back a laugh. “I’m sorry. What?”
“She hasn’t had a working kitchen sink for days. Asha mentioned that the manager at Grace’s apartment was being a dick about it, so I went over there and fixed it for her.”
“And that bought you dinner?”
“Yep. Tonight, since rehearsal is off. Ironed a shirt, ordered flowers, washed the Jeep—”
“You’re going all out.”
For Corey, ironing a shirt was a big step.
“She’s out this afternoon with the girls on their shopping trip,” Trey added.
“You and Asha have plans?” I asked.
“With you two situated for the night, I can get Asha alone for more than a couple of hours.”
“Take her. I’m happy to be rid of her.”
“So...” Corey propped his elbows on his knees and made the sort of dreamy face one would expect to find on a teenage girl compulsively ogling the flavor of the week on TV. “How’d it happen? What’d you say? How many rooms did you dirty and is it still safe to eat off your kitchen counter?”
“We talked,” I said. “After I picked her up from the hospital—”
“Yeah,” Trey interjected, “how’s she feeling? Hadley texted me last night after they brought her in and I called Corey. We were going to head over there but she told us not to bother.”
“She’s fine. She’s got a bump on the head and some bruises. Nothing serious.”
“And Andre?”
“What’s to say? If she’d broken a bone, I’d have broken his jaw.” My fists clenched. I was suddenly in the mood to punt his face again.
“The way Hadley told it,” Trey said, “it was just an accident. Unavoidable.”
“And I should thank him for not killing her? Fuck that. I’d be in jail and he’d be in the ground.”
“Hey”—Trey put his hands up in surrender—“I get it, man. We’d have helped you hide the body. I’m just saying, maybe cut him some slack.”
“I’ve gotten Punky to and from home hundreds of times without a scratch on her. Why is that so hard?” I closed my eyes and exhaled. “Can we just drop it? I damn near shit myself when she called and I’d rather not think about it anymore. Besides, he’s out of the picture.”
Trey and Corey shared a pointed look.
“What?” I sat forward, examining them. “I’m not sharing. Hadley damn sure knows that. We put it all out there. She knows I’m in love with her. End of story.”
“Everyone but you two idiots knew you were still stupid for each other,” Corey said.
“So what’s with the fucking look?”
“They weren’t dating,” he told me. “They’re friends.”
“She can’t fuck her friends, either.”
“No, dumbass.” Corey rolled his eyes and sighed. “He wasn’t sticking it to her.”
I winced at his choice of words. “Please don’t.”
“They’re really just friends.”
“Bullshit.”
“He’s gay,” Trey announced.
Once again, all eyes in the room turned in our direction.
He lowered his voice. “That’s why he moved in with his mom a few years ago. He and his dad had some big falling out. Now his dad’s sick, so I guess Andre came back to help take care of him.”
“And everyone knew.” This was happening an awful lot lately. I didn’t care for it one bit. “Jesus fuck, guys. How long?”
“I’m guessing Hadley knew back then,” Trey said. “They were close before he moved away. Asha, I think, has known for a while.”
“But,” Corey added, “I’d like the record to show that we found out this morning. I’d have told you if I knew Hadley had parked herself with a friend of Dorothy.”
“Parked?”
“Yeah. Andre, according to Asha, isn’t really out. More like he’s got a toe out of the closet. So he gets Hadley as his beard to keep the peace with his dad and she gets someone safe that makes her look unavailable. Parked.”
I let that sink in. Now it was funny. “I could kiss him.”