“We’re almost thirty years old. We’re too old for kegs!” I groan as Dean rolls the huge silver monstrosity across my fancy plank wood flooring.
Dean sighs heavily and adjusts his glasses. “This isn’t fucking domestic beer, Kate. This is IPA from my favorite local brewer. They don’t sell this shit to just anyone.”
“Yeah, cuz no one likes it,” I mumble and kick the floor because damn it, what’s wrong with Coors Light? It was good enough for us in college, and it should be good enough for us now.
But Dean didn’t go to college with Lynsey and me. He self-educated himself on all things fancy. And ostentatious. Like IPA beer apparently.
He shakes his head and rubs the side of my arm. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just give it a chance.”
Resuming his station, his polka-dot button-down stretches around his biceps when he lifts the keg and places it inside the garbage bag-lined wooden barrel he brought over earlier. He goes back to the front door and grabs the giant bags of ice he left on the front step and proceeds to pour them around the keg.
Lysney comes striding through my back door. “The tiki bar is ready!” she exclaims with a swivel of her hips.
I have to stifle my laugh because she had to roll that thing all the way through her house and my house in order to get it to my back patio.
Even though we’re neighbors, there’s a giant privacy fence that separates our properties. When I first moved in, we got really drunk and tried to prop a ladder on either side of the fence so that we could flow freely between the two properties.
It did not end well.
Dryston ended up having to carry me up the stairs to bed because I hobbled into the house in pursuit of more vodka. But I lived to tell the tale so, silver lining.
“I also strung up my Edison bulbs back there,” Lynsey adds with eager eyes. “It’s great mood lighting. Perfect for meaningful conversation.”
“Or random hookups,” Dean adds, waggling his brows at me. “I invited some people from my co-working space, so there’ll be some fresh faces for you to maul in an alley, Kate.”
“Shut up, dick.” I kick my flip-flop at him, and he tosses it out the back door without even looking.
“Also”—I rub my hand over my forehead—“don’t forget to call me Mercedes tonight, remember?”
Lynsey rolls her eyes.
“I mean it. It’s the theme of the party since we’re celebrating my typing ‘The End’ as Mercedes. In my text, I told everyone coming that anyone who calls me Kate has to do a keg stand.”
“What?” Dean gasps, horrified. “This isn’t fucking cheap college beer, Kate!”
“Mercedes!” I correct. “And I’m banking on everyone hating that beer and no one wanting that horrific torture.”
“You get used to the hops!” he cries like a huge fucking sissy.
“If by hops, you mean poison, then I’ll pass,” I reply and do a final check on the appetizers spread out on the counter.
Lynsey sidles up next to me as I stir the meatballs in the slow cooker. “Are you going to take my advice then?” she asks, her voice quiet, but Dean’s comment of, “What advice?” means it definitely wasn’t quiet enough.
“No,” I groan and begin pointlessly readjusting the charcuterie platter.
Lynsey exhales heavily. “I told Ka—Mercedes that she should try to make Miles jealous tonight because it works. Tells her it works, Dean.”
Dean stops monkeying with the ice and hits me with a look. “It works.”
I frown, knowing that after what he shared with me out at Twin Peak the other day, there’s no way in hell I’d do that to him. “I’m not going to manipulate Miles into liking me.”
“He already likes you,” Lynsey corrects. “He just needs to like you enough to sleep with you.”
“He sounds like a tool, if you ask me,” Dean grumbles.
“He’s not a tool,” I defend. “He’s…I don’t know what he is. Getting over someone maybe? Gah. He only wants casual, and he doesn’t think I can be a casual girl.”
“Can you?” Lynsey asks, her brown eyes curious.
“Fuck yeah!” I exclaim with a little dance I think a casual, cool girl would do. “I write casual sex like it’s my job because it literally is.” I smile lamely at my dumb joke, and my friends are super impressed.
“Screw it, you guys are good down here, right? I’m going to go upstairs and get ready because I am officially going to be late for my own party. Lynsey, start the music and hold down the fort while I go beautify!”
“On it, boss!”
“Dean…guard that shitty beer.”
Forty-five minutes later, I stride down the steps to find my The End party in full swing. I’m dressed in a pair of lacy white shorts and a flowy nude tank with camel wedges. I’ve trussed my red hair up into a side braid down my shoulder, and I’m feeling footloose and fancy-free. I am ready to party.
Several of our old friends have made it out, as well as some new faces who Lynsey knows from grad school. I instantly get sucked into a conversation with a couple of girlfriends from college who all congratulate me on finishing. One calls me Kate, and I drag her into the kitchen to take a shot. Mostly because I think Dean might start crying if someone put their lips on his precious keg tapper.
Dean introduces me to his co-working space friends who won’t shut up about this new bakery down the street from their building. Before I know it, I realize it’s a couple of hours into the party and Miles still isn’t here.
I excuse myself from some friends to go see who’s out back. Maybe Miles has been here this whole time, and I didn’t know it. I do a cursory sweep of the outside in hopes of seeing a tall, dark, and handsome fella but am disappointed just to find Lynsey and all her grad school friends.
She smiles brightly and comes striding out of her tiki bar to pass me a fruity beverage in a tall glass. “Drink it slowly, Mercedes. This shit is strong. I’ve had two, and I think I’m black-out drunk right now.”
“Jesus,” I exclaim, taking a sip and feeling an instant burning in my mouth. “No wonder. I think this might be worse than Dean’s shitty IPA.”
Dean’s growl scares me from behind. “It’s not shitty.” Without warning, he dives straight for my legs, and I just barely hand my drink off to Lynsey before he tosses me over his shoulder. “Mercedes is doing a keg stand, everyone!”
Our friends all whoop with cheers, and I bellow over their voices. “Mercedes is not doing a keg stand because Mercedes likes Coors Light and complimentary coffee…and writing sex books!”
I hear cheers from both inside and outside, and because I’m feeling no pain, I decide to keep going. “And hard and fast wall sex!”
They all laugh and cheer out some more. This is fun! I have my own personal cheering track, so I continue, “And Mercedes likes a formal scene where the guy takes off a girl’s panties and fingers them in his tuxedo pocket all night long!”
I’m met with crickets…until finally, Lynsey chirps, “That was really specific but, yay!”
Everyone joins in, but it feels obligatory and far less enthusiastic than before, so I give it one last go to save face. “And I really love to write about anal play!”
The crowd cracks up laughing even more, but more wonderful cheering follows. I can even feel Dean’s shoulders shaking as he laughs and smacks my ass before dropping me back down to my feet.
When I turn around and right myself, I feel a head rush and try to focus my eyes on what’s in front of me. I’m staring into the very broad chest of a very large man in a super-hot black leather jacket. I lift my chin and practically swoon when I see it’s Miles. And he has a button-down on under his coat.
“Miles!” I exclaim and wrap my arms around his rock-hard body, still feeling euphoric from my version of a crowd surf I did a moment ago.
Dean clears his throat beside me and murmurs, “I’m going to head inside for a drink.”
I pull back to wave hello to Sam, who looks a bit uncomfortable next to Miles until he finally says, “I’m going to follow that guy.”
Lynsey sidles up next to me in the same breath, not the least bit intimidated by Miles’s statuesque posture. She thrusts her hand out and says, “Hi, I’m Lynsey, the best friend and neighbor. That’s my tiki bar over there.”
Miles slides his gaze to her and offers a small smile while shaking her hand. “I’m Miles.”
“Nice to meet you. Can I get you a drink? My tiki bar is open!” She waves her hands out proudly.
“I’m good for now, thanks,” Miles replies and looks back down at me. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
I nod and grab his hand to lead him back inside. A group of Dean’s friends is standing right in front of my bedroom door, so I decide to take him upstairs to where I was getting ready earlier. When we pass by Dean at the keg, I see him cut narrow eyes at Miles. I flash my own daggers at Dean, silently telling him to back the fuck off as we veer left.
I can’t drag Miles up the stairs fast enough.
The light from the Edison bulbs is pouring through the back window into the dark bedroom, so I don’t even bother with the light switch. Miles walks into the room behind me like a dark, thunderous cloud. When I turn around to look at him, I realize this room has never felt so small.
He looks around, noticing men’s shoes on the floor in the open closet. “Do you have a roommate?”
My face heats instantly because this is nowhere near the conversation I want to have right now. Especially after Dean just flounced me around like a bimbo in front of everyone two seconds ago.
“Kind of?” I reply hesitantly.
“So it’s a guy,” Miles states, staring into the closet, then sliding his eyes to me.
There’s no hiding that fact now. “Yes.” I shrug.
He laughs and shakes his head. “It figures.” He presses a hand to his forehead as he paces the room. “It’s not that Dean guy, right? You said he was a neighbor.”
“He is a neighbor. It’s not Dean.”
“Then who is it?”
“No one,” I rush out, noticing that Miles is getting tenser and tenser by the second. The last thing he needs to hear is that I still kind of live with my dumbass ex-boyfriend. “He’s away for the summer, so it doesn’t matter.”
“But it’s a dude,” he snaps, his hands balling into frustrated fists at his sides. “Damnit, Mercedes, I can’t do this!”
“Do what?” I ask, my chest lifting with hope.
“I’m a jealous guy! You know that,” he exclaims, throwing his hands out wide in surrender as he points downstairs. “This is not the kind of shit I handle well.” He forks his hands through his hair, looking like he’s about to bolt.
But I don’t want him to bolt.
I want him to stay.
“I’m sorry, I should just go.”
He moves toward the door, and I dash in front of him, blocking his exit.
“My roommate is…gay,” I blurt, and my eyes fly wide at the lie that tumbled so easily from my lips. “And he’s out of town for the summer.”
Miles stares down at me, blinking. “Seriously?”
I shrug, completely unable to confirm it again because I still can’t believe I lied in the first place. “Tell me why are you turning into such a maniac right now? I thought you only wanted to be friends.”
He exhales heavily. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“Well, what can I do to help?” I ask, even though I don’t want to help. I want to bone.
Miles groans and pins me with a serious glower. “Babe, jealousy is an issue I have to keep in check constantly. I try not to be like this, but it’s virtually fucking impossible. I had almost ten years with a girl who took pleasure in fucking torturing me every chance she got.”
“Well, I’m not that girl,” I retort and step in closer to him, reaching my hands out to touch his forearms.
“I know you’re not,” he nearly cries. “But before we do anything, you need to know this about me. I’m overprotective. Overbearing. Over arrogant. Pretty much everything I do is to the extreme.”
“Okay,” I reply slowly and swallow a knot in my throat as he cups my face in his rough hands, looming over me like some sort of caveman staking his claim.
His voice is deep and melty as he adds, “And I fucking lose it if I think a guy is moving in on my property.”
Okay, I shouldn’t be turned on by that. I’m a modern woman. I’m independent. I think I could be a feminist if I ever knew exactly what the fuck that all entailed. But personally, I don’t think feminism belongs in the bedroom. I think feminism is having license over your own desires, and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I think I just felt a gush of liquid between my legs, and I am so not mad at that!
I shake my head, trying to refocus my brain on the main point here. “But I’m not your property, Miles!”
“In my mind, you are,” he replies, his jaw tight, his lips pinched. “And I really need you not to do things to make me jealous.”
“Why?” I nearly sob.
“Because if you make me jealous, then I won’t be able to stay friends with you.”
“Why?” Good God, man, just fucking take me!
“Because it’ll make me want to fuck you, so you don’t ever want to look at another guy again.”
Heavy breaths.
Thunderous heartbeats.
Noisy party downstairs…the real downstairs. That wasn’t a euphemism for my pants, though, now that I mention it, I think I heard his dick grow. Like literally, I think I hear his jeans stretching between us.
I reach out and touch him with my hands and oh my God, yes. He’s hard, and I’m hard, and I want him to just…“Prove it.”
He shakes his head, severity to his brow that has a knot forming in my throat. “I hope you know what you’re asking for.”
With a feral sort of growl, he slams his lips to mine and plunges his tongue straight into my mouth. Deep. So deep. As if he’s looking for tonsils deep. It isn’t exactly sexy—it’s uncontrollable. Heady. Toxic. I can’t get away from him, and I don’t want to. My arms wind tightly around his neck, holding him as if it’s possible to merge our bodies together.
No more dead fish kiss. God, this is living!
Miles bends over, running his hands down my ass to the back of my thighs. He grabs me tightly and hoists me up, and my legs instantly wrap around his waist. I can’t quite hook my ankles around his massive frame, so I just squeeze. Squeeze him into me as hard as I can because good Lord, this is what I’ve been missing. Strong, masculine, territorial heat!
I want his heat all over me. If he could unzip his skin and tuck me inside him, I’d want that. I want to be consumed by him in every possible way.
He combs his hands through my hair and yanks my head back so he can drag his tongue along my throat. I swallow against it, panting and writhing just from his wet tongue. He’s ravishing, punishing, and claiming me with his mouth, and fucking hell, it’s bliss.
He turns us toward the bed, and his hands drift down to my ass, his fingers greedily digging into the crease of my butt. “You said you liked anal play?”
I cry out loudly when his fingers slide along the lace of my shorts, and he presses hard through the fabric right on my puckered hole. “Jesus, I don’t know. I just like writing it!”
He laughs, and it vibrates his whole body. I squeeze my legs tighter around him, trying to get that sensation inside me because fucking hell, I need to be fucked right now.
“Plenty of time for that later,” he says, dropping me on the perfectly made bed and falling down on top of me, covering me with his warm, delicious weight.
“God, Miles,” I moan, as he peppers my collarbone with kisses and bites. I kick my wedges off as my body rolls under his, my pelvis pressing up into the big hard appendage stuck behind his annoying jeans. “Take your jeans off. I want to see you.”
“You first, babe,” he husks and stands up, pulling me with him so he can pull my tank top off over my head. My braid flops back down over my bare breasts, and he drags his fingers along the texture of it. “Would you undo this?”
I nod absently. I’m pretty sure he could get me to run through that party naked if it meant I’d be getting laid by him tonight. I yank out the twist and shakily comb my fingers through my hair.
“I fucking love your hair.” He slices his fingers through the thick tendrils and gives them a big sniff. God, he sniffed me!
“Now lie back,” he says, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and sliding them down my legs as I do. He chucks them to the floor and grabs my lacy white thong. I moan as he pulls it down tantalizingly slow, his rough fingers caressing my legs with their descent.
When he slips the thong off my feet, he holds it out for me to see, then presses it to his nose and inhales deeply.
“Jesus fuck,” I cry at just the sight of him sniffing my goddamned panties. “How are you real?”
“I’m completely fucking real, babe. And you’re not getting these back.” He tucks the slip of white fabric into his jeans and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, retrieving a condom from the inside flap before dropping it down on the bed.
He reaches behind him and pulls his shirt off over his head, and my eyes glaze over at the sight of him. He has lines in places that men were meant to have lines. A perfect outline of a six-pack, broad ribs hinting under his huge, meaty pecs. And then there’s that V. Jesus God, the V that arrows down to his dick is enough to make me forget every man who ever came before him.
Miles could be on the cover of every last one of my books. In fact, maybe I should re-cover my books. I’d probably sell more copies. I want this man’s perfectly sculpted body plastered all over my fucking world.
And if I thought his top half looked good, it is nothing compared to the bottom. He slides his jeans and boxers down, and the giant cock that bobs out has me more than a little terrified. Extremely aroused, but terrified.
It’s a beautiful dick. Strong and proud. Straight and thick. But about twice the size I’m used to.
I clear my throat and say, “The cliché line you should say right now is, ‘Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.’”
He laughs at my man voice imitation, and his thick abs contract in a really sexy way. After he rolls the condom on, he steps between my legs and drapes his warmth over me. Our nakedness slides against each other like the most deliciously heated silk sheets.
Miles teases his covered tip against my slit. “But what if I like it to hurt a little?”
In one fast push, he slams into me so fast I can’t catch my breath for a moment. My hands grapple around the bed for purchase, for something to squeeze and hold as I fight this sudden, welcomed invasion between my legs. He offers up his own hands, sliding his fingers between mine in a gentle way that is at complete odds with the merciless tightness between my legs.
He squeezes my fingers and presses our hands to the mattress beside my head. “You okay?” He drops a soft, tender kiss on my lips.
I groan loudly, the tight ache building and begging for more. “I will be once you start moving.” I grind my hips up to meet his with frantic need. “I need you to fuck me, Miles. Please, just fuck me.”
“With pleasure,” he replies, releasing my hands and sitting back on his knees. Throwing my legs up on his shoulders, he skims his rough hands down them at the same time. “God, these fucking legs are sexy.”
And with that belly-flipping compliment, he begins thrusting into me so hard and fast, I can’t even utter a moan. It’s just a lot of strangled sobs that seem to bypass my voice box and come out straight from my lungs. He grinds and digs and punishes my pussy, and the orgasm that rips through me is completely ignored—like it’s one of many he plans to give me tonight, so he’s not even going to give it any attention.
A second orgasm climbs on top of the first, and I swear I can’t take another when he reaches down and rubs his rough fingers on my swollen clit. My voice box finds itself at last, and I scream out in pleasure.
“Shhh,” he growls and moves his naughty hand to my mouth, sticking his fingers in it so I can taste my arousal all over them. “You need to be quiet, babe. There’s a party going on downstairs, and if they hear you like this, I’ll get all worked up again.”
He pulls his fingers out, and I groan, “Jesus, you’re nuts.” But in my mind, I’m saying that I never want any of this to stop.
“You make me nuts,” he replies and continues pounding into me until I orgasm a third time.
“Think you’ve had enough?” he asks, bringing a finger underneath my ass and teasing my anus. “Or do you want more?”
“Later,” I beg, moan, and whine a little. “More later, I just want to see you come, Miles.”
I look down at his dick sliding in and out of me. It’s so angry looking. It needs a release.
“Talk dirty to me again then,” he quips, nodding his head at me in encouragement. “Talk to me like you did that night at the bar. God, I’ve jacked off to that memory at least a dozen times since then.”
“Umm,” I mumble, my brain needing to access a different vortex than where it’s currently residing. “Okay, fuck. I loved when you stuffed your fingers in my mouth a second ago.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes ablaze and fixed on me. “Are you a dirty girl, Mercedes?”
“God, yes!” I moan because honestly, maybe this is what I’ve been missing all along. I should have been fucking Dryston as my alter ego, not boring Kate! Mercedes is a freak in both the real world and the fictional one. “I loved tasting myself on you. The sourness of me and the saltiness of you. God, we taste good together.”
“Fuck yeah, we do,” he replies, looking up at the ceiling and riding whatever wave he’s catching, the cords of his thick neck bulging at the angle.
“I like your rough hands on my body,” I state, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on my breast. He looks back down and watches his hand when I add, “See how hot we look together. Rough and soft. Dark and light.”
He squeezes my breast and tweaks my nipple so hard I have to bite back another cry. “God, Miles, fucking come for me. Let that big dick come inside me.”
“Oh God,” he exclaims, freezing mid-thrust and exploding inside me like a fucking cannon. The veins of his long shaft contract and thicken inside my channel with each needy burst of seed he shoots into the condom. “Jesus Christ, Mercedes.”
I laugh because what else can I do? I just fucked a guy who doesn’t know my real name in the bed that I shared with my ex for almost two whole years. How much more fucked up can this situation get?
I tap his abs in appreciation. “That, Miles, was book-worthy sex.”
He laughs at that while we clean up in the attached bathroom and quickly dress to head back downstairs to the party. I don’t particularly want to go back down, but since it’s sort of in my honor and we’re not even in my bedroom, I don’t see how I can really get away with staying up here all night.
Lynsey points out my hair instantly, and I close my eyes, wincing at the fact that I forgot to braid it back to how I had it earlier. Thankfully, no one else seems to notice.
I sip a drink and talk to my friends for the rest of the night, being really chill when I introduce them to my new friend, Miles from Tire Depot. Everyone laughs at how we’re basically coworkers since I wrote the entire book there. If this was a book, I’d definitely brand it as an interoffice romance, for sure. It all started with a cup of complimentary coffee.
Throughout the night, I feel judgmental looks coming from Dean. He’s most likely doing that overprotective brother thing again, but I don’t want Miles to get the wrong idea, so I decide to keep my distance. Dean is a flirt, and while harmless, it’s a difficult thing for outsiders to understand. I’ve even been accused by my college friends of having a romance with Dean. The idea is laughable.
By the end of the night, I am exhausted, and when Sam goes to leave, I frown, worried that Miles is going with him.
“We drove separately,” Miles offers, and I glance out to see his motorcycle parked right in front of my house. “But I can go if you’d like?”
“No!” I exclaim and reach out to grab his hand. “You should stay…if you want, I mean.” I am so uncool it’s not even funny.
He nods, and that troubled look returns to his face. The one he’s gotten every time he’s rejected me or tried to reject me. It troubles me, but he seems to be ignoring it for the night, so I will too.
After a while, everyone clears out, including Lynsey and Dean. I shut off the lights, kill the music, and lead Miles to my bedroom off the kitchen.
“I’m really glad you didn’t drag me in here before,” he states with a smile.
“And why is that?” I ask, yanking my tank top off over my head and standing in front of him sans bra.
“Because then everyone definitely would have heard your screams.” He quickly reaches for me, and I yelp as he picks me up in his arms so that my tits are pressed into his face. “I didn’t get enough time to fully meet these girls earlier. Hello, ladies.”
He nuzzles his whiskered jaw between my breasts, and I laugh and shove at him until he puts me down. With a blissful, sexy, indescribable smile, he tucks my hair behind my ears and kisses me so sweetly, I think I just experienced a type of orgasm I didn’t even know existed.
Can you orgasm from happiness? I kinda think so.