Confessions of a Bad Boy (23 page)

“
H
oly shit
!”

“Nate…” Jessie hisses at me, before glancing apologetically at the woman in scrubs who’s guiding the ultrasound wand over her stomach.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, my eyes fixed on the screen as the fuzzy image starts to resolve. “I just…it’s amazing.”

“It’s okay, I’ve heard worse,” the technician says.

“There it is,” Jessie utters softly. “Our child.”

“I can’t believe it,” I murmur. “It’s…it’s alive.”

“Like Frankenstein’s monster?” Jessie teases, as she and the ultrasound tech exchange a quick snigger.

“And kicking,” the woman adds. “It’s a very healthy baby.”

“This is so fucking surreal – sorry.”

I look down from the screen toward Jessie, and squeeze her hand.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“Happy,” Jessie says, her face glowing with pride and tenderness. She squeezes back. “A little overwhelmed, but happy.”

“Do you want me to print a picture?” the technician asks.

“Oh yes,” we say in unison, before Jessie continues. “There’s someone who’ll kill me if he doesn’t see one.”

W
e walk
hand in hand toward the benches by the beach. Kyle’s already there, an empty taco plate and half a basket of tortilla chips in front of him. We approach him on his blind side.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I say, once we’re in earshot. He looks up suddenly and spreads a wide grin over his anvil-jawline.

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t this the same bench we sat on when you punched the living shit out of me?”

Kyle laughs and embraces Jessie warmly before we clasp hands.

“Kyle probably remembers the tacos more than the fighting,” Jessie says as she sits down.

I sit beside her, my arm instinctively going around her shoulders to pull her toward me, but then I quickly pull away. Kyle groans and laughs.

“Hey, you can touch each other in front of me, you know. I’m over it.”

Jessie looks at me and laughs, before going in for a kiss.

“Okay, now that’s getting a little gross,” Kyle says, blocking his view with his palm.

Jessie laughs again, before reaching into her bag.

“We got you something,” she says, pulling out the sonogram picture.

“Whoa!” Kyle says, grabbing it from her and holding it up to the light.

“That’s the head. And you can see its hands there,” I say, pointing them out.

“Shit,” Kyle says, breathlessly. “The kid looks like me!” He lowers the picture, but keeps it held in front of him, his eyes glancing at it every once in a while. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be an uncle.”

“You are.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Jessie and I glance at each other.

“No,” she says. “We decided we didn’t want to know until it’s born.”

“Why?” Kyle asks, frowning as if we just told him we hope it’s a cat.

“It’s just cooler that way, dude.”

“Yeah. It’s a surprise.”

“Shit. I’d have thought you two would be sick of surprises by now. I know I am.”

Kyle looks at the picture again and I nudge Jessie, swapping a quick smile at his look of child-like fascination.

“You’re still helping us move some more stuff to the house this weekend, right?” Jessie asks, pulling Kyle’s basket of chips toward her. She dumps salsa on them and digs in.

“Sure,” Kyle replies, looking up and smiling. “So how is it? Living in the old place?”

“It’s like coming home,” Jessie says.

“As if it couldn’t get any weirder. My best friend, my sister, my old house, a kid on the way. I’m starting to feel like a third wheel.”

“Maybe we just need a fourth, dude.”

Kyle chuckles.

“Not with my schedule.”

“I’m gonna get some real food,” Jessie says, pushing the chips away and turning to me. “I’ve got a craving for something spicy. You want anything?”

“Sure,” I say. “Get me whatever you’re having. You’re gonna eat half of it anyway.”

Jessie smiles and leans in. “Aw. That’s what I like about you. So giving.” She kisses me quickly then steps away toward the taco stand. I watch her go a while before Kyle calls for my attention.

“Bro. I wanted to tell you something.”

I look at Kyle’s expression, the sudden seriousness in his eyes, the way he’s leaning forward as if hiding something.

“What?” I say, leaning in, too.

“I say this man to man, okay? However much you might not like it, it’s important that you hear it.”

I take a moment to let him know I get it.

“Okay. Go ahead, dude.”

Kyle shifts slightly, his eyes flickering away, then back onto my face.

“That day, here, when I punched you, was the worst day of my life.”

“Dude, it’s cool, you don’t—”

“I do. I have to say sorry. ’Cause the truth is that I did it deliberately.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kyle shifts again and looks at the taco stand to make sure Jessie’s still there.

“You think it was easy to bring myself to hit you? It went against every instinct in my body. But I did it anyway, you wanna know why? Because I wanted to see if you meant it.”

“Meant what?”

“That you loved her.”

“You punched me as a
test?
”

Kyle nods, and I exhale loudly.

“Jessie had a big crush on you as a teenager. For years. She thinks I didn’t know, but of course I did.”

“Yeah. She told me.”

“It almost tore her apart. And it tore me apart, ’cause you were too busy chasing tail to even notice. I wanted to make sure this wasn’t a rerun of that. That this time it was a two-way thing.”

I lean back and rub my brow.

“Fuck, dude. I had that black eye for more than a week.”

Kyle shrugs nonchalantly.

“But at least you passed the test.”

I glare at him, then break out into a laugh.

“Dude, I love Jessie. You could have broken my legs and I’d have crawled back to her.”

A couple of asada taco plates appear in front of us, loaded up with sides of rice and beans, lettuce, tomato, and guacamole. There’s also a plate of nachos covered in melted cheese, pico de gallo and jalapenos. It’s become obvious by now that pregnant Jessie has a brutal appetite, but the truth is, I find it pretty cute.

“What are you guys talking about?” Jessie says, reaching for the food before she’s even sitting down.

“Uh…nothing much,” I say, glancing at Kyle. “Just life, love, and the problems we all face.”

“Oh,” Jessie says, as I snatch a nacho from her hand and put it in my mouth. “It sounds like one of your videos.”

“My old videos,” I correct. “I’ve got nothing to confess anymore.”

T
he idea comes
to me sometime in the evening, the house still full of boxes, Jessie gone to catch up with Lorelei and her other Thursday night friends. Maybe it’s just a new way of scratching an old itch, maybe I just find it easier to say certain things this way, or maybe it’s just nice to have a diary of some kind – but whatever it is, I go into the room where we’ve set up the computer, where the evening light casts window-frame shadows across the wall, and sit down in front of the monitor, clearing my throat and fixing my loose painting shirt.

I turn on the webcam. This time I put my face in the frame. This time I’m not worried about the lighting. This time I don’t figure out what to say beforehand. This time it’s just me, being real, being honest. I take a deep breath, check the camera one more time, then hit record.

“Hey. I don’t know when you’ll see this, or what you’ll think when you do. It’s kinda strange to think about. But anyway, it’s me, your dad…and there are a few things I want to say…”

T
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Confessions of a Bad Boy, check out this excerpt from THE BET.

M
y muscles scream
, chest on fire, nerve endings twitching like a million thunderbolts across my torso. I can feel the beads of sweat on my forehead running down my tensed neck. I glare at the fluorescent light on the gym ceiling, feel the cold metal of the bar against my chest.

That twinge in my triceps should worry me. Gotta meet Jax at the club for drinks in a couple hours. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this big a lift at the end of a workout. Last time a lift went wrong I messed up my thigh so bad I was finger-fucking girls for a month.

Thoughts bear down on me like a load of bricks, pressing down on the ends of the bar, making it even heavier than it really is.

Don’t think, Brando. Just fucking lift.

I repeat the words like a mantra. A rhythmic drumbeat that focuses my mind. I exhale as I push, the rush of adrenaline leaving no room for thoughts, the heat burning all doubt out of me.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.

As I pump the bar up and down it feels like I’m lifting the entire building, like I’m trying to push a planet away from my chest. I feel like I’m calling on strength that doesn’t belong to me, strength that comes from the same deep pit of hell the pain in my muscles comes from. I exhale and my breath comes out with a long, low grunt.

The pain and the heat and the testosterone and the adrenaline swirl inside of me, and I direct it all against this fucking barbell.

When my set is finished I have just enough energy to bring the barbell back onto the claws. My fists sting as they let go of it, palms almost melded to the metal. I drop my arms and breathe deeply for a few seconds before sitting upright. My blood pumps, veins throb, and I feel the satisfied ache of a post-workout high seep into my skin.

“Pretty dangerous, benching that much without anyone spotting you,” a throaty female voice says from behind me.

I look up. The gym is almost empty except for a guy listening to his headphones as he runs on a treadmill in the corner. I save myself the trouble of turning around to see her and just look at the reflection in the wall-sized mirror in front of me.

“Looks like you spotted me just fine,” I drawl, eyeing her in the glass.

Even by gym standards, she’s unbelievable. She’s in tight black spandex pants, with nutcracker thighs and hips that seem custom-made for my hands. Her sports bra is so tight she may as well be naked, and the thought instantaneously sends about a million X-rated images through my mind. Judging by the hungry look in her eyes, I know exactly where this is going—but I’m enjoying the foreplay, so instead of just cutting to the chase and inviting her to suck my dick in the locker room, I grab the barbell and force myself through one more punishing set of reps.

It takes everything I have to keep my arms steady, my muscles screaming all the while, before slamming the bar back onto the rack and sitting up.

“Impressive,” she says, eyeing me up and down in the mirror. “You certainly don’t do things the easy way.”

“I prefer the hard way,” I tell her, checking out the curve of her breasts like I’m about to paint a portrait of them. It’s all I can do to keep myself from just grabbing her and sitting her down in my lap.

“So do I,” she purrs, running a hand across my back. She steps closer, standing behind me with the bench between her legs. Then she puts both hands on my shoulders and starts pressing and rubbing.

“Shit that’s good,” I say, closing my eyes at the deeply sweet touch of her hands – the only thing that could stop me from enjoying the ravenous eye-fucking she’s been giving me in the mirror.

“It should be,” she says, a tinge of amusement in her voice. “I’m a massage therapist here. With all the time you spend working out, I’m surprised you haven’t stopped in for a session by now.”

“So you’ve seen me around,” I growl. She rubs harder, massaging a knot next to my shoulder blade until it loosens, and I groan out loud. “Damn. Maybe it
is
time to see about that session.”

“Good, because you’re way past due. And I’m not gonna wait any longer.” She leans down toward my ear, her long blonde hair brushing my shoulder, and says in a low whisper, “I teach a yoga class, too.”

Her words hit me like a shot of adrenaline to the cock. I close my eyes and let her work me some more, lust building with the sensation of her palms kneading the base of my neck and the scent of her as she leans over me. I let out another low moan.

Looks like Jax might be drinking by himself for a little while tonight. But I’m sure he’ll understand.

My eyes flicker toward the guy in the corner, still running on the treadmill. The yoga teacher/massage therapist/sportswear siren reads my thoughts as easily as she reads the tension in my back and nods toward a side door.

“It’s your lucky day,” she smiles. “I’m giving a free massage to the man who can handle it.”

I stand up, grab my towel and run it over my face.

“Always good to have a massage after a workout,” I reply. “Keeps the blood flowing.”

She nods and turns, her body even more erotic in movement. The sway of her ass makes me grit my teeth. My heart thumps like a revved engine, her silhouette magnetizing every muscle in my body. This time I don’t need to push the thoughts away – I couldn’t think straight if I tried.

I follow her toward the massage room, swaggering with the loose power of muscles after a workout. She looks back over her shoulder just before opening the door, her blonde ponytail flicking over her shoulder, and winks before sliding inside.

“Close the do—” she starts, but I pounce like a predator spotting its window of attack, nothing but lust, impulse, and nature controlling me now. In a single motion I slam the door shut with one hand, push her up against it front-first, and press my groin hard against her ass. Her surprised gasp turns into a throaty giggle.

Now that I’ve got her where I want her, I’m as slow as I was quick. I wrap my hands around her waist, brushing my fingers lightly against her exposed midriff. I close my eyes, let the electricity between our skin guide me. I press my face against the side of her head, letting the scent of her drive my body wild, pulling away teasingly after every touch.

“I like your style, Brando,” she says, turning her head to shoot me a sultry stare.

“How do you know my name?” I hum into her ear as I slide my hands slowly up her stomach, under her top and between her heaving breasts.

She puts her palms higher on the door, steadying herself and pressing back into my body.

“You’ve got a reputation.”

I taste the nape of her neck, eliciting a deep moan from her that tugs at my balls harder than a magnet.

“What reputation?”

She laughs lightly, in between the stuttered sighs and gasps that she responds to my every touch with.

“Big…bold…brash…Brando.” As I lift her tight top up over her breasts with one hand, my other snakes down her pants to find the wet line of her pussy. “Half the girls in my yoga class want to fuck you…and the other half claim they already have.”

I run my tongue down her neck, tasting the tender, pale skin. Her nipple hardens under the gentle touch of my fingers, pinching lightly, palm tracing the flawless shape of her breast.

“You girls really like to talk,” I say, before taking her earlobe between my teeth.

“I had to see for myself if the rumors are true. This is just research,” she says. I feel a tremble between her thighs as my finger moves slowly over her clit, brushing it until I feel her backing into me with a sharp intake of breath.

“Then I’ll assist any way I can,” I tell her, giving her clit a firm, steady press with my palm as I slide a thick finger deep into her slick pussy.

“Fuck,” she moans, leaning into it. I work my finger back and forth inside her, agonizingly slow, until she’s panting heavily and writhing against me. “More,” she begs.

I spin her around to face me. She tears her top off the rest of the way, breasts bouncing back into firm shape, and eyes me like I’m a three-course meal and she’s fresh off a hunger strike. Then she pulls my mouth onto hers and swirls her tongue aggressively around mine. It’s more like martial arts than making out, but I’m not complaining. I run my hands down the taut skin of her sides, grab her breasts, feeling every curve so thoroughly I could sculpt her. We back and forth with our tongues, pushing and pulling, lashing and biting. Striking the sparks of the oncoming flames.

“It’s no secret,” I say, pulling her toward me as I back off and sit on the massage table, “that I love women. What else do you need to know?”

I pull off my shirt, and she spends a full five seconds staring at my chest with her mouth open. I slide my shorts down while she watches, her eyes glazing with lust. “I think I have everything I need right here,” she finally manages. “All that’s left is a little field work.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a condom. I put it on while she peels off the second skin of her spandex pants.

“Welcome to the field,” I say, as she straddles me on the massage table.

She cups my face in her hands and thrusts her tongue into my mouth, pulling away only to bury her teeth into my neck. I let out a hiss and wrap my lips around her nipple, rolling my tongue around it like it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, teeth biting just enough to make her shake. She moans as she hugs me tight to her chest, rolling her clit up and down the shaft of my cock.

I lose myself in her curves, hands tracing the arch of her back as her pussy winds up against my cock harder and faster as she starts losing all restraint. She moans in short, sharp bursts, and I feel the hum of her voice as I move my mouth from one breast to another.

“Slow down, baby,” I tell her. “You gotta let yourself enjoy it.”

She laughs wildly, looking down at me as I grip her ass tightly and maneuver her over my cock. Her pussy is ready and wet as it presses against me, and I read the expression on her face like a dirty novel, all drugged eyes and strained pleasure. She squeezes the head of my cock between her lips, pulling me into her, but I hold her off, tantalizingly close, but not there yet.

“Tell me what you want,” I say, when her eyes go pleading.

“I want—” She gulps deeply, all the playfulness gone out of her now, replaced with fierce need, and speaks between pants. “I want you. Inside me.”

I let her take a little more, and she releases another low, vibrating moan.

“Tell me,” I command.

Her eyes narrow, the pupils dilated. “I want your dick.”

“Again.”

“I want your big, hard dick. All of it. Right now.”

I adjust my grip on her ass to let her take my full length and she slides down onto it, her moans turning into squeals of helpless delight. She bounces like she’s riding a horse, her body taking over, moving up and down on my cock according to the thousands of sweet sensations that emanate from our connection. I let her get her fill for a few minutes and then take charge, grabbing her ponytail in my fist and pulling her head back.

“Don’t move,” I say. I ease out of her slowly and she whimpers in protest.

“Wh—”

With no warning I slam back into her, both of us groaning as I plunge into the depths of her tight, hot sweetness. Then I hold her steady and fuck her with everything I’ve got, turning in a performance worthy of a major award. As we find our rhythm she convulses and sways like a girl possessed, whispering obscenities and encouragement in between her moans. I run my tongue up the tender spots between her breasts, pumping with all the determination of a champion racehorse. I focus on the sensations radiating from my dick, finding a oneness with the zen of the energy building between us. My hands stroke the curve of her thighs as she bucks wildly on me, matching my power with every harder, deeper thrust.

When she comes there’s no missing it. She throws her body forward onto me with a desperate cry, head over my shoulder, hands clawing against my back as I keep on gliding in and out, relentless, relishing the convulsions shuddering around my cock. Her stomach curves in and out like a booming subwoofer, the orgasm washing over her like sea waves.

I let myself feel the pressure of her pussy, the softness of her breasts, the tightness of her thighs around my waist, and let go of the tension I’ve been clutching since she first touched me. I cum in a hard, pounding rush as she’s letting out the last, gentle moans of a hard fuck. The long breaths of someone returning to their senses.

“Did your research find I’m worthy of my reputation?” I ask after a few moments, blinking myself back to reality as the blood returns to my head.

“That and more.”

A minute later I’m helping her pull those tight pants up the last few inches of her gut-punchingly good ass. I take my time – it’s good enough to make me consider another round already. She turns around and puts a hand against my cheek.

“How about coming back to mine?”

I glance at her with an apologetic shake of the head as I lace up my shoes. “Sorry. I’m heading out to meet a friend tonight.”