“UH,” EMBER SPUTTERS.
“Uh, what?”
“Did … uh … Nikki!”
“Jonas on a stick, what is wrong with you?” I question, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and starting to climb out of her deep-set couch. Bam, her huge beast of a dog, grunts when I move over him to get off their couch. “Move, you hulking monster.”
Quinnly squeals her happy baby laughter when she sees me from her spot in the middle of the living room surrounded by toys.
“Hey Quinnie-Q-Moosie-Moo,” I sing to her, gaining an adorable smile as she drools all over herself. “How the heck did I end up on the couch when I went to bed in your guest room?”
“Nikki!” Ember yells in a high-pitched squeak.
“It isn’t normal that you can even get your voice that high! Do you not remember polishing off that bottle of wine last night? Chill yourself, woman.”
“Chill myself? Chill myself?! I just pried your phone out of my daughter’s mouth, thinking I was doing you a favor, only to have a dick slapped in my face!”
“Whoa. I do not need to hear about your and Nate’s kinky bedroom games. You can probably get eye infections that way too. You should Google that.”
“It wasn’t Nate’s dick that slapped me in the face, Nicole Clark!”
A throat clears behind me. “You know, when I heard you two yapping women, I was thinking I should back away slowly, but now I want to know who is slapping my wife in the face with their dick.”
I jerk my head around to Nate’s booming voice, a mixture of confusion and hilarity, and narrow my eyes.
“Here! I’m sure you’ve seen it before anyway,” Ember says before holding the phone out in his direction, her eyes twinkling with mischief. I’m too busy wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole to do anything to stop her, though.
His eyes get weird, and he hesitantly reaches out to take my phone from Ember. His eyes search her face before looking down at my phone like it’s a snake about to attack.
“I’ve got a dick; doesn’t mean I want to see another dude’s. You know, just because I used to strip doesn’t mean I went around staring at other men’s cocks, baby. Not my thing, you… motherfucking hell, is this Shane’s junk?”
Oh. My. God.
My face flames as the early morning drunken-fueled activities come back to me. I see Nate’s thumb move at the same second I remember what other picture was sent on the heels of that glorious one from Shane. And if he moves his thumb, he’s going to see a whole new side of his wife’s best friend. Oh, my God.
“Don’t you dare swipe that screen left, Nate! Son of a biscuit, NATE! Do. Not. Swipe. Left!”
I’m moving at the same second I realize he saw the picture. His eyes going so wide it looks like they’re about to bug out of his head, and his jaw drops. Thankful for any sliver of luck, I almost breathe a sigh of relief that—even in his shock—he doesn’t look back at the picture. I catch my phone on a dive as he drops it like it might come to life and bite him. Quinnly laughs her cute baby laugh when I land hard on the ground with a huff.
“You will forget that happened right this second, Nate Reid.”
“What is happening right now?” Ember asks, no longer frantic about the dick slap to her face.
“Seriously, nothing seen. Nothing … Christ.”
“I’m never drinking again.”
“Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
Nate looks at me for a second, and I watch in horror as his eyes give him away. “Did you know your friend got her rack pierced?”
“You jerk face!” I yell, grabbing a pillow off the couch and smacking him over the head with it. He laughs hysterically, not even attempting to stop me.
“Well, yeah, Nate. Who do you think took her? She even tried to get me to do it,” Ember answers, not even the least shocked that her husband knows about my nipples being pierced. Or how he knows, for that matter.
Nate stands, to his full height at that, and looks at his wife over my head, ignoring the pillow I’m still thumping him on the head with. “You thought about doing that too, firecracker?” he asks her huskily.
“Arghh!” I toss the pillow down and stomp over to my purse. “You two … this never happened. None of it. None! You hear me?”
“Oh, come on. My wife saw Shane’s pocket rocket, so it was only fair I got something out of this morning too.”
“You’re a pig,” I yell.
Ember giggles, and I look over at her. She holds her hands up in a mock surrender but keeps laughing. “What? It was a nice penis.”
“Cock, baby. Dick works too, but don’t call a man’s pride and joy a penis. Little boys have a penis; a man has a cock.”
“You two are the weirdest couple ever.”
“Maybe, but we’re also the weirdest couple who now knows what each other’s best friend’s naughty bits look like. What do you think about that, Nikki?” Nate laughs, reaching for his wife and pulling her into his arms. “I think we need to discuss this piercing thing a little more, firecracker.”
“I’m out!” I yelp the second his hands start to reach for Ember’s chest.
By the time I got back to my apartment, the embarrassment had somewhat faded. Okay, that’s a big honking lie. My best friend’s husband just literally saw me naked. Not just naked naked, but a picture that might as well have me halfway to Pornville. If it had just been Ember, I wouldn’t have even blinked. You aren’t friends with someone as long as we’ve been friends and not seen each other naked a few times or twenty.
The day I met her—years ago in middle school—had been in the middle of dressing out for gym. A horror story for any teenage girl just discovering her growing and changing body. I hadn’t given it much thought to change in the middle of the room. Even at a young age, I didn’t care what other people thought of me. Em, my sweet bestie, had been hiding in one of the shower stalls waiting for all the girls to head out before getting undressed. Even now at almost twenty-four and married with the cutest little princess you’ve ever seen, she’s still not one to flaunt what she’s got.
So even though she might be used to my lack of cares when it comes to that sort of thing, that doesn’t mean I want her to see me with my fingers shoved inside my body. We’ve never crossed that line—friends don’t masturbate together.
“Good heavens above, I’m never going to live this down,” I grumble to myself, climbing the four flights of stairs to my top-floor apartment.
Thankfully, none of my creepy neighbors are outside when I get to the top landing. Four other apartments occupy the top level with mine, and each one of them houses a red-zone creeper. I’ve affectionately named them Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three—the single men living in apartments C2, C3, and C4. I might have known their names at some point, but since I do everything I can to avoid running into any of them, I couldn’t tell you what they were to save my life.
Even with the early morning sun shining bright, my apartment is dark and gloomy when I step inside, locking the door behind me. It’s a small place. I don’t need much more than a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. When I had been dating Seth, he had been here more often than not, making my tiny little place feel like a cardboard box. But now that he and all his crap are out of my life—it’s not so bad.
I hook my purse on the doorknob of the closet next to the front door and walk the four steps to my living room. I don’t even bother to open the blinds of my balcony space before I plop down on the couch. Taking a deep breath, I pull up my phone and read through the texts from last night.
“Oh, boy.” I sigh, seeing that drunk chatty Nikki was in full force.
With each text, my eyes get bigger and bigger. Then I get to that picture, not mine … but the one Shane had sent. Hell, I can’t blame the wine on my reaction because even if I had been dead sober, I would have said the same thing. He’s tan everywhere with a buzzed thatch of dark hair manscaped in a way that only highlights the huge, thick, pierced penis between his legs.
I lean my head back on the couch, dropping my hands to my lap. Even without the phone in front of my face, I can still see that picture clear as day. I’ve been with a few men, but never one working with something like that. Hell, I had been with Seth for almost four years, and I’m pretty sure I had grown back my hymen from his lack of endowment—a man like Shane is going to rip me in two.
God, what a way to go, though. My lips curl in a devious grin at the thought.
Clearly, he had been into the idea of my stupid, wine-fueled texts. He didn’t shoot me down, and if that last message from him is anything to go by, I’m going to find out what being with a man like Shane feels like real soon. The question is, can I go through with it?
I wasn’t kidding when I said it would help me with the Seth problem. Ever since we broke up and he realized the grass isn’t greener on the other side of Slutsville, he’s been getting increasingly persistent in his attempts to rekindle our relationship—something I have no interest in. He seems to take my lack of dating as a sign that I’m still pining over him. If I could get Shane to play along, there was no way Seth would misconstrue things anymore. Shane turned me on brighter than the sun with just a kiss—I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to take things further. All I know is chemistry like that can’t be faked.
“God, Nik. Shake it off and stop worrying about things you can’t control.” I pull my tired body off the couch, looking one last time at my phone and that beautiful cock. “I wonder if it would be weird to make this my wallpaper?”
I continue to contemplate the pros and cons of putting his dick pic as my phone’s wallpaper when a text comes through. Chiming loudly in the silence around me, it causes me to jump. My phone goes flying across the room before I can stop my arm from moving, and I press my hands against my chest, breathing deeply.
“I’m going to die of a heart attack, and it’s going to be Shane’s cock’s fault,” I complain, walking over to where my phone landed and picking it up.
Starboy: I’ll be at your place in 30. Be ready to talk, chèrie.
Oh, hell.
In all the craziness of this morning, I had completely forgotten he said he was coming over. I look down at the paint-covered sweats I stole from Ember and groan. I’m sure the rest of me isn’t a pretty picture after the amount of wine we polished off. I can’t even remember if I took my makeup off last night.
A burst of excitement hits me when I see his message again, and before I rush to clean up, I move my fingers over the screen to bring back his picture … then press a few more buttons before I toss the phone down on the coffee table with a smile on my face. Might not be my wallpaper, but at least I can still find it when I want to see it—often. I rush down the tiny hallway into my bedroom, stripping as I go until I’m standing in the shower. Not even waiting until the water is warm, I rush through a quick rinse. I have thirty minutes to make it look like I didn’t just wake up, flash my friends, almost scar a baby for life, and proposition a man I hardly know to let us use each other.
But … that cock.
Yes, that makes all the craziness that brought his visit to fruition worth it because I want that … a lot.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling my long blond hair up on top of my head in a wet, messy bun. I’ve got on a pair of my favorite yoga pants—the ones that I know make my ass look amazing—and a tight tank top. I wasted five minutes wondering if I should wear a bra or not, but I decided Shane would get me how I usually look on a Saturday: no work, no makeup, no fuss.
I look down at my chest and regret skipping the bra when I see my nipples poking through the cotton material.
“Well, that’s one way to say hello.” I giggle, turning back to go lock these bad boys up. Or that had been my intention until a quick but strong knock sounded on the front door.
My eyes widen, and I turn woodenly to stare through my apartment, half convinced my overexcited mind imagined the sound. When it repeats, I jolt, rushing through the living room area until I’ve got both my palms against the door and my face pressed against the peephole.
Even through my fisheye view, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His artfully shaped beard looking a day past a five o’clock shadow, something that I just know he spends time making sure looks good daily, makes the strong features of his face more pronounced. His long nose is perfectly symmetrical to his face, straight and as perfect as the rest of him. Thick brows that aren’t too thick or too shaped, as dark as the locks on the top of his head, make his eyes look lighter than the moss green I know them to be. And those lips. Those sinfully full, pouty lips that just make a woman want to drop down and thank the good Lord he made such a perfect man.
“I am in so far over my head,” I whisper.
As if he heard me, he looks up from the spot on the door he had been studying right in the peephole, smirking one side of those lips up in a grin that makes me think he can see through the door and right into my damn soul.
“So. Damn. Far.”
I glance down at my nipples one more time and sigh. Well, might as well just go with it. The disengaging lock sounds louder than I’ve ever noticed. The only thing louder is the pounding of my heart. I take a deep breath, open the door, and look up, swooning the whole time, and pray I don’t look as nervous as I feel right now.
“Hey,” I wheeze, clearing my throat as my cheeks heat.
His smile widens. He’s clearly enjoying my awkwardness just as much as I like what he looks like on my doorstep.
“How did you know where I lived?”
His lips part and his white teeth bare as his smile grows even more.
“It’s really not fair that you’re so hot. I actually think it’s frying my brain cells.”
His chest moves as he laughs; slow and deep grunts of what can only be described as a manly chuckle make goose bumps dance across my exposed skin. “Let me in, chèrie.”
“Oh, fine,” I exasperate sarcastically, rolling my eyes and stepping to the side so he can enter.
He doesn’t even attempt to be polite and use the space I’ve given him to pass into my apartment. He steps into my space, crowding me instantly with his eyes downcast and only giving me enough space to shut the door behind us. He reaches up, and before it registers what he’s about to do, he’s got the hoops of my piercings pinched between his fingers, pulling them just enough to give me a bite of pain. With the thin material of my shirt not offering much protection, I feel the burn of his heat tango with the pain smarting my nipples.
“I liked these when I saw them last night,” he whispers in a deep rumble of pure seduction. “I think I like them a lot more now that I’ve got my hands on them.”
I whimper. Shameless and pleading. My shoulders roll back and forth with a dance that begs for a partner when my nipples pinch from the movement and his hold.
“Tell me, Nicole. On a scale of drunken mistakes to fuck me now, how much of last night did you mean?”
I lick my lips, whining deep in my throat when he tweaks my piercings again.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” he continues, releasing another bite of pressure from his fingertips when he pinches me again.
“Whe-where does fuck me until I can’t walk fall into that?”
His eyes shoot to mine, and I watch in fascination as his control slips for the briefest of seconds, the play behind his eyes making them look more honey brown than moss green.
“Ça va être mon plaisir de jouer avec toi, chèrie.”
“Holy shit,” I gasp, eyes wide and panties soaked. “What was that?”
“A promise.”
It’s gonna be my pleasure to play with you, darling