Bad Wedding: A Bad Boy Romance (5 page)

I ground into her harder, pressing her into the grass, and she moaned—actually moaned—into my mouth. I dragged my hands down her body and lifted the hem of her skirt and she kissed me harder, biting my lip as I grabbed her spread inner thighs, as I touched the edges of her panties.

“Oh, God,” she said. “Do it quick.”

“Ssh,” I said, and slid my fingers into her panties. She was drenched. I felt my cock jump in my shorts, impatient. I touched her more thoroughly, sliding my fingertips over her, feeling everything. Everything.

In response, she lifted her hips from the grass and ground into my fingers, gasping.

She was as desperate as I was. I swirled my fingers over her clit, making slow little circles. Just the feel of it could make me come in my underwear. “Harder?” I asked in her ear, my voice a rasp.

“Yes,” she panted, grinding into me. “Yes. More.”

“Inside?” I asked her.

“Fuck, yes.”

I slid one finger inside her, then a second one, rubbing slowly in and out. She gave a moan, the kind that I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d been dying for—the kind that said she was craving this, and only this, in this moment.

I could have fucked her. I wanted to so badly. But because of that moan, I made it about her.

I kept my fingers moving, slowly, as I bent and kissed her again. Tasted her mouth, her tongue. Let her rub against me, her hands in my hair. I fucked her slowly with my fingers and then I slid them out and rubbed her clit again, over and over, driving her crazy.

She broke the kiss, gasping, close. “More,” she said. “Fuck, Jason. More.”

I gave her more. When she came, I felt it, the tremble of her muscles, the clench of her body. Her knees squeezed me and her breath hitched. But she didn’t cry out or make a single other sound. She just breathed in a silent gasp as the orgasm rippled over her, as if her voice was gone.

I had never heard a woman be so quiet when she came.

I hadn’t heard a woman come at all in years.

I dropped my face to her neck and felt it, heard the harshness of her breathing. Smelled the damp wetness of sex. She came down from the orgasm and her body slowly turned into a puddle of wax, her breathing slowing, her knees open. I slid my fingers out of her panties and put the fabric back in place.

She let her hands slide from my hair and her arms dropped to the grass beside her, boneless as a doll’s. We were both soaked and freezing, on the ground in a public park. I put my hands in the wet grass and lifted off her a little, my head still dropped to her neck, and then I laughed.

Because even though I was currently feeling the Blue Balls of Death, we were both just so fucked.

I looked into her face. She looked baffled and turned on at the same time, her gaze taking me in as if she was trying to read me. As if part of her worried that my laughter was directed at her.

I kissed her gently, sucking her lower lip before I let it go.

“All right,” I said to her. “I guess you win. You have a fucking date.”

M
egan

I
t rained
all night and into the morning, and when I walked into the Five Spot restaurant, it was still dark outside the windows. I checked the clock on my phone. Four minutes to eight. I was four minutes early.

I slid into a booth. The restaurant was nearly deserted except for a couple of sleepless retirees. I’d worked here once, a few months ago. I’d been fired, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know a good breakfast when I saw one.

A waitress came by—her name was Tina, and I recognized her from when I worked here—and dropped off menus. I didn’t need one, since I already knew the menu by heart, but Jason would.

I curled my hands around my water glass and tried not to fidget. I was not nervous. No way. Okay, so things had been a little intense between me and Jason yesterday, and we’d nearly fucked, and he’d made me come on the grass, in public. That didn’t mean things had to be weird.

The door opened and he walked in, and I fought the urge to hide under the table.

He was wearing jeans, boots, and a black warm-up jacket, zipped to his chin. He still carried the bruised scuff on one cheekbone, but otherwise he looked freshly showered, his dark hair still damp, his jaw clean-shaved. He moved easily, and he looked refreshed and relaxed, as if he’d had a good sleep, unlike me. Tina stared at him as he sauntered over to my booth and slid in.

“Hey,” he said. “Why the hell are we meeting so early?”

“I told you, I have an appointment,” I said. I’d need a few hours to drive to Detroit, especially with traffic.

“Something important, huh?” he said, grabbing a menu and opening it. Tina came by, and he gave her a grin that pretty much rendered her mute. “I’ll have a coffee, thanks.”

I nodded the same, and Tina left.

“Why this place?” Jason asked me, scanning the menu. “Aren’t you sick of it since you used to work here?”

It was like we were old buddies, hanging out for breakfast. I felt my spine stiffen, my jaw go tight. “The food is good.”

“Okay then, you pick me something. I’m starving.” He closed the menu and put it back down, then unzipped his warm-up jacket, revealing a gray t-shirt underneath. “What?” he said, watching my face.

Thirty seconds in, and already I was failing at this. “Jason, this is weird,” I confessed. “Isn’t it weird?”

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the seat next to him. “It isn’t weird for you,” he said. “At least you got some. Me, they can see my balls from space.” He turned back to me. “So, are we going to a wedding or what?”

I stared at him, open-mouthed.

“What?” he said again.

“It’s like you’re a different person every time I see you.”

“I’m in a good mood,” he said. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy that?”

“You’re in a good mood after I basically cockblocked you?”

He shrugged. “That’s what showers are for.”

For a second my mind went blank. Then it clicked. “You do…
that
?” I choked. “In the shower?”

“All the time,” he said, tilting his empty coffee cup and staring into it hopefully. “It’s my favorite place to do it.”

He was still damp. From the shower.

My neck went hot, and my cheeks, and for an insane second I pictured it in perfect, salacious detail. Jason jerking off in the shower.
How often?
I wanted to ask him.
Every day? More than once? What do you think about? How long does it take?

I remembered his fingers between my legs, his tongue in my mouth. And that cock of his—I’d felt it, no mistake.
I’m packing some heat,
he’d said. I’d relived it over and over again in all of my dirty fantasies last night.

I couldn’t really say that I had a
lot
of experience with penises. I’d experienced a few, but I wasn’t a connoisseur. Of the penises I’d seen, live and in person, I could say as an overall statistic that they were average. Nothing crazy. Just regular dicks, hanging out, doing their thing.

Jason’s was a work of art.

I remembered it clearly, even when I tried my best to forget. It had everything—size. Length. Girth. Smoothness. Overall proportion. And I’d been forcibly reminded of it when it had nearly made me come through my panties yesterday as I’d lain on the ground beneath him in the park like a crazy woman.

I was saved from having to explain my hyperfocus on Jason’s anatomy when Tina came back to the table, as if summoned by my awkward humiliation, and asked for our orders. I opened my mouth and somehow a breakfast order came out, one for me and one for him. I must have made sense, because Tina nodded and walked away.
Get some control, Megan,
I told myself.

“Okay,” I said to Jason when Tina was out of earshot. “First of all, let’s make something clear.
That
is not happening again.”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Damn, that’s too bad. Are you sure?”

No.
“Yes. Absolutely.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

I felt a small pang at that—
am I an idiot to talk myself out of Jason’s dick?
—but it was for the best. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s talk details. There’s something I didn’t tell you about this wedding.”

He looked at me warily as Tina set our breakfast plates down, and then he picked up his fork. “What is it?”

I took a breath. “It’s in Cape Cod.”

Jason speared some scrambled egg and frowned, calculating. “Seriously? That’s, what, two days’ drive?”

“Around sixteen hours, yes. Give or take.”

“So this is a five-day commitment.”

I nodded, poking at my own breakfast. “Luckily you’re unemployed.”

“Hey. I’m employed.”

I shrugged. “So you’ll have to take a few nights off from cleaning college kid barf.”

He reached for the hot sauce and dumped some on his eggs. Gross. “I don’t clean the barf, the janitors do. I kick guys’ asses and put drunk girls’ clothes back on.”

“And I’m sure you’re very skilled at it.”

He gave me half a grin. “I detect sarcasm. You have no respect for my profession.”

“None at all.”

“That’s no fair,” Jason said, spearing more eggs. He really was starving. “I have great respect for your ability to work the Drug-Rite cash. How will anyone buy their Preparation H without you for five days?”

“Ha ha,” I said. In fact, I had had a terrible time getting the time off, and was half worried there would be no job for me when I got back. I’d already called in sick today to go to the appointment with Dr. Pfeiffer. The thought made me tired. “And there’s another thing. My car is too shitty to make the trip, so we’re taking yours.”

“Huh,” Jason said thoughtfully, picking up a piece of crispy bacon and biting into it. My heart pounded in my chest.
He’s going to say no,
I thought wildly.
He’s going to tell me to go fuck myself and walk out.

I had a problem asking people for favors. In fact, I’d never asked anyone for a favor this big. Not ever. I was used to handling everything alone, not asking for help. It was completely, utterly uncomfortable, as if I’d put on a pair of Spanx three sizes too small.

“Okay,” Jason said.

I tried not to make my voice squeak in relief. “You’re still in?”

“Hey, I owe you, right?” he said. “I figure with this wedding thing plus the orgasm I gave you, it’ll make up for how shitty I treated you.”

I dropped my gaze to my plate and ate some eggs. “The orgasm is not part of the deal,” I mumbled to the table.

“You’re right,” Jason said. “I changed my mind. That was a freebie.”

I looked back up at him. His plate was mostly empty, and he picked up his coffee, smiling at me.

“Do you own a suit?” I asked him.
Control, Megan. Control.

“Yes,” he said. “I look boss in a suit.”

I was not going to picture it. I was not. “Bring a suit plus a second outfit of shirt and dress pants,” I said, “in case there are any pre-wedding things to go to.” I stared at his bruised cheek, assessing. “That should be healed by the time we get there. If it isn’t, I’ll put makeup on it. You could get a haircut if you have time, though your hair isn’t bad.” His hair was fucking gorgeous, dark and tousled and sexy. “You don’t have to do much, just stick close to me and be charming and pretend we’re dating. And that things are great.”

He scratched his nose, frowning. “Can I ask something? Why are you going to so much trouble for an ex-boyfriend? I mean, why is he such a big deal?”

I detected a distinct note of male envy in that, and I savored it like chocolate on my tongue. Then I said, “It isn’t just the ex-boyfriend that’s important.” I explained to him about Stephanie and Kyle, and how things had happened, and how Stephanie was from my mother’s side of the family. I left out the part about Kyle being my first, because I was
not
giving Jason Carsleigh that particular tidbit.

“Okay,” he said when I finished. “I get it. So it’s more about your mother’s family than this guy.”

“Mostly, but the guy is part of it,” I admitted. “It’s sort of this shitty mix. I can’t just not go. I mean, would you want to look like a loser at Charlotte’s wedding?”

Jason groaned. “Man, there is no way I’d go to Charlotte’s wedding,” he said. “Just no way.”

I spent far, far too much mental energy in the next minute trying to parse that. Did he mean that he’d been so in love with her that it would be too painful to go to her wedding? Or did he mean that he was so happily rid of her that he never wanted to see her again? I’d barely ever seen them together—he’d been deployed for most of the time they’d been together, and they’d broken up shortly after Holly and I became friends—but physically, Jason and Charlotte together were… perfect. She was tall, willowy, and blonde, and he was tall, muscular, and dark. She had no flaws that I was aware of. He’d likely never ground her into the grass in a public park. They’d probably made perfect love on perfumed beds, covered in rose petals and surrounded by candles while someone played the harp nearby.

I didn’t want to picture that. At all.

He’d probably been gone on her. Any guy would be.

I put my fork down, the topic of Jason and Charlotte in bed making my stomach turn, which in turn made me angry. Why the hell did I care about it, even a little? Why couldn’t I just be over this guy already?

Jason was watching me, his dark eyes missing nothing, and for a moment the air was heavy between us. “Okay,” he said finally. “Suit, dress pants, haircut, drive to Cape Cod, don’t look like a
Fight Club
extra, try and be nice. When do we leave?”

“A week from Thursday,” I said, pushing my plate away. “The wedding’s on Saturday.” I glanced out the window. “Shit, it’s still raining, and I have to drive to my appointment. I have to go.”

He was still watching me, and I didn’t like the perceptiveness in the way he looked at me. “It sounds important.”

I shrugged, the motion tight. “It’s just a thing.”

“A thing you had to get off work for.” He scratched his chin. “You want me to come?”

For a second I stared at him, surprised into silence. Then the words came out, sharper than I intended, because I was in a spin and I didn’t know what to say. “Why would I want that?”

His expression closed down slowly. “Well, I have some free time, and you look upset. Jesus. I
can
be nice, you know.”

“No,” I said, reaching into my jeans pocket and pulling out some money. “I do not need you to come with me. I don’t need you to do anything except pick me up on Thursday morning so I can go to the wedding from hell.”

His jaw was tight, but he slid his phone across the table toward me. “Text yourself your address,” he said, “and that way we have each other’s numbers, too.”

“Fine,” I said, opening his texting app. “There better not be any dick pics in here.”

“You wish,” he said, his voice deep with meaning.

I’m packing some heat.

I stared hard down at the phone and texted myself, then slid the phone back across the table at him. “Have a nice day,” I said.

“See ya, Sunshine,” Jason said, and I walked out the door.