The Boyfriend Effect

by Kendall Ryan

  We rock into a rhythm until she’s wild and sweating, her body squirming under my touch. Her body clenches around me, and she pulls the toy from my hand and takes control of her own pleasure, riding me and the toy in equal measure. She’s so sexy like this, all confidence and taking charge, and I can feel my balls tightening.

  “Dove, I’m close.”

  She grinds harder into me, and another wave crashes through her. Pleasure rips a cry from her throat, and I feel her contract around me. Fuck, that feels good. She tosses the toy onto the bed next to her as I finish, gripping her hips tightly as I come.

  We collapse onto the bed, beads of sweat lining my forehead and chest. Maren slips my shirt around her shoulders and goes to the bathroom to clean up, and when she returns, she cuddles warmly into my side.

  “That was incredible,” she whispers. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “No, thank you, dove. Thank you.”

  “No, really, Hayes, how’d you fucking do it?” Connor squints at me with disbelief.

  It’s the next day, and instead of spending it in bed with Maren, I’m at work, surrounded by a bunch of assholes with the maturity of twelve-year-olds. But what did I expect? We started a sex-toy company together. Talking about our sex lives is literally part of each other’s business.

  Except when you’re fucking your business partner’s little sister, that is.

  “Don’t worry about it, all right? I got it done. That’s all you need to know.” I hardly look up from my laptop while I reply, but Connor and Caleb aren’t buying it. They scoff and look at each other in disbelief, just in time for Wolfie to join us in the back office.

  Great. Just what I fucking needed.

  “What are you two idiots giggling about?” Wolfie asks, his voice slightly less gruff than usual.

  “Hayes did some product testing over the weekend,” Connor says.

  “So?”

  “So,” Caleb says, “he’s sworn off women. So, how is he testing the product?”

  Wolfie drops the box he’s been carrying onto a shelf with a loud thud. “Well, some of our toys are optimized for solo use.”

  “Unless Hayes is suddenly very into anal,” Connor says, his eyebrows shifting, and I cut him off.

  “Fuck you, man.”

  Wolfie chuckles. “Whatever floats his boat.”

  I heave out a sigh. “The product is solid. Since when do we grill each other for details?”

  Caleb raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Dude, the only woman in your life is your grandmother, so unless you want me to puke up my protein shake, please explain yourself.”

  Connor and Wolfie laugh, but I just shake my head and keep crunching numbers.

  “Fuck all you guys,” I mumble. But at this point, between that option and the truth, I’m honestly not sure which one is worse.

  18

  * * *

  MAREN

  In preparation for our evening out on the town, Rosie and I spend the afternoon shopping at my favorite consignment store. Summer in Chicago is unforgiving, so the dress we select for her is a lightweight navy-blue number with a collared neckline, short sleeves, and a bold pattern of yellow flowers.

  Meanwhile, I’m on the hunt for a little special something. When I see it, I know without a doubt that it’s exactly what I need to keep Hayes nice and occupied. Summery and fun, the ruby-red romper showcases my long legs in a way that’ll definitely have him reeling. Add a pair of strappy black sandals and a flirty ponytail . . . and he’ll be a goner. I can hardly wait.

  “You’re gonna give my poor grandson a heart condition.” Rosie chuckles to herself as we check out.

  The smile on my lips refuses to fade as we finish up at the store.

  Back at the apartment, Rosie bashfully asks if I’ll help her get ready. The invitation warms my heart, so I dutifully follow her down the hall to her bedroom.

  The zipper slides easily up the middle of her slightly hunched back, a clasp securing it at the base of her neck. The ankle-length pleated skirt brushes against the pantyhose she insists on wearing, the entire ensemble pulled together by a pair of matte-blue Mary Janes from her closet.

  I peek over her shoulder, looking in the full-length mirror to confirm what I already know. She looks lovely.

  “My goodness.” Rosie giggles, pulling at the fabric restlessly. “You sure this isn’t too modern for an old fuddy-duddy like me?”

  I grin at her use of the term fuddy-duddy. Can’t say I’ve heard that one in a long while.

  “Yes,” I say to assure her, gently squeezing her shoulders. “You look perfect. It’s got that Jackie Kennedy class with a little modern chic to it.”

  “Thank you.” She chuckles, her berry-painted lips stretching into a shy smile as she turns to meet my eyes. “Thank you, dear. Tonight is . . . well, I’ll just say that I haven’t gotten ready for a date in decades.”

  I wrap her in a hug, careful not to smudge her meticulously applied makeup. “You bet.”

  There’s a knock behind us, and Hayes’s voice travels through the door, filled with annoyance and impatience. “Hey, are we doing this or what?”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s not even time yet, Hayes. We’ll be out in five minutes.”

  Rosie shoots me a knowing wink. She sees through his attitude as clearly as I do. He’s been a pill ever since meeting Don at Riverside.

  I would give Hayes a piece of my mind about it, but I know he’s just uncomfortable. For the past several years, he’s been Rosie’s number-one caretaker, confidant, and companion. It has to be hard to imagine someone else getting close to his grandmother, especially a stranger.

  Meanwhile, I’m just happy for the both of them—Don especially. He’s been considerably less of a grump since meeting Rosie. Over the past few days, he’s gone out of his way to “casually” run into me in the halls of Riverside, resulting in impassioned conversations about Rosie’s favorite flowers, Rosie’s favorite movies, Rosie’s favorite foods. It’s cute.

  After running the details by me, Don decided on a full evening of activities, which includes a trip to the local historic movie theater, a pit stop at the neighboring ice cream parlor, and a walk down to the lakefront to watch the sunset.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little impressed. Who knew he was such a romantic?

  Hayes and I are accompanying them, on the basis of it being a double date. But we all know the double-date spin is a total facade for fundamental logistics. Hayes doesn’t want Rosie driving after dark, and Don hasn’t owned a car in at least a decade. Furthermore, the logistics are just an excuse for Hayes to spy on Don the con man, who appears to be armed with nothing more than a few jokes and a listening ear.

  Regardless of how Hayes spends his energies this afternoon, I’m choosing to see it as a double date. A double date in which I get to spend more time with the hottest guy I know.

  When Rosie and I are finished, we step out of her bedroom to find Hayes waiting on the couch, his knee bouncing nervously as he scrolls through his phone. When his eyes meet mine, they immediately wander down the length of my body, taking in my high ponytail, exposed shoulders and collarbones, cinched waist, and finally—my long, tanned legs. His knee stills, his phone forgotten in his hand while he ogles my cute and sexy summertime look. His lips part and then shift into a cute half smile.

  Hayes doesn’t look too shabby himself, wearing a pair of comfy army-green chinos and a short-sleeved white button-up. We share a look that says, You look good. Like, really good. I’d relish the moment for a smidge longer, but we’re on a timeline. Plus, I’m pretty sure Rosie wouldn’t appreciate me eye-fucking her grandson right in front of her.

  Piling into the Lexus with Rosie comfortably in the back seat, we drive to Riverside to pick up Don. When we pull into the circular driveway, he’s waiting just inside the front doors. His hair smoothed back, he wears a light blue sweater with brown slacks and a golden-yellow bow tie. A bouquet of daisies are clutched in his hands—Rosie�
�s favorite, naturally. My heart swells from the cuteness of it all.

  Don is the picture of a dapper gentleman, only dropping the act to shoo away a hovering CNA. I step out of the car to sign him out for the evening, then help him into one of the back seats, shooting him a congratulatory wink as Rosie coos over the flowers. I’m amazed we make it to the movie theater at all with the way Hayes is white-knuckling the steering wheel.

  By some brilliant turn of fate, or some excellent foresight on Don’s part, Soylent Green is the old film of the week. Our adorable charges are eager to find the perfect seats, so I take Hayes by the hand and pull him toward the concessions stand.

  “All right, Mr. Chaperone, time to let the kids off the leash,” I say, teasingly bumping him with my hip.

  His arm wraps around my waist, his hand slipping into the pocket of my romper to rest his fingers on the sensitive bump of my hip bone. A shiver floods through me at the contact, my body thrumming with the memory of those skillful fingers operating that sex toy. Ever since that experience, I’ve been feeling reckless . . . and a little wild.

  “No kids here,” he says, flashing me a smile that’s more of a grimace. “From what I can tell, that’s a full-on old dude staring at my grandmother’s butt.”

  I laugh at the implication, because Don would sooner die than get caught staring at a woman’s backside, proper gentleman that he is. “You’re right, they are adults. All the more reason to trust them to take care of themselves, hmm?” I ask, rubbing his back comfortingly.

  “I didn’t say that I don’t trust Rosie,” Hayes grumbles, scanning the overhead menu. “I just don’t think that she always knows what’s best for her.”

  All right, Operation Reassurance is going to take a little more effort than I thought.

  Hayes buys four small bags of popcorn, declining my suggestion with a pointed look to let each couple share a large bag. We sneak into the theater just as the lights dim and the movie crackles to life on the projection screen.

  Rosie and Don are already engrossed in the experience when we find them. It’s a special showing, so there are no previews to deal with. Settling into the two open seats behind the couple, I’m prepared to kick the back of Don’s seat every time he nods off. Miraculously, he never does, too busy whispering in Rosie’s ear, who smothers her uncontrollable giggling with mouthfuls of popcorn. They are too cute.

  Hayes’s knee bounces incessantly for the first half of the movie. When I’ve finally had enough, I reach out and place a hand on his knee, gently rubbing the tense muscles I find there. At my touch, he slowly begins to relax, giving in to the massage.

  Hayes leans back in his seat with a soft sigh, subtly checking on our companions.

  When the movie ends, our little group piles out of the theater and walks a few blocks to the ice cream parlor. Don and Rosie walk a few steps ahead of us, wrapped up in their own conversation about the plot of the movie.

  They’re clearly quite taken with each other, and from my experience working with people their age, that’s not very common. Usually, distrust and prior baggage can form communication barriers between the elderly. That’s not true in Don and Rosie’s case, though. Their excitement and fondness for each other fills my insides with syrupy warmth, threatening to ooze out of my very pores. Finding love is always an amazing thing. Getting a second lease on life at their age is rare and extra special.

  Meanwhile, Hayes is a little less stiff than before. As we walk, his hand wanders from my waist to the round swell of my ass, tracing lazy, featherlight lines just underneath the hem of my romper to play with the edge of my panties. It’s enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

  The summer sun is already lowering over the peaks and valleys of the neighborhood rooftops and steeples as we arrive at the ice cream parlor. Don insists on paying, purchasing two scoops of rocky road for himself, one scoop of mint chocolate chip for Rosie, and one scoop of chocolate espresso for me. Hayes opts out, probably in quiet resentment of Don’s kindness.

  When the older couple wanders toward the beach to catch the sunset, promising to return within the hour, Hayes whispers in my ear. “Why eat an ice cream cone when I can just watch you?”

  We settle into a small booth in the back of the parlor, our legs winding together underneath the table. With my back to the counter and any other patrons, I make a whole show of it.

  Hayes watches me with darkened eyes as I lick and suck away at the swirl of soft serve with a vigor I can only attribute to being majorly turned on. I let a little cream drip down my bottom lip, meeting his eyes as I run my tongue lazily over one sticky finger. That’s all he can take. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls my messy mouth to his in a hungry kiss.

  Just then, someone’s kid drops his ice cream cone with a wail—the perfect distraction.

  I grab Hayes’s hand, pulling him from the table and down the hall to the thankfully empty (and clean) restroom, where I practically shove him inside and close the door behind us. He’s on me almost before I can latch the door, his hands grasping my ass and his lips devouring mine as I fumble for the lock. Once it clicks into place, I push him against the wall, dropping to my knees to nuzzle against the strained fabric of his shorts.

  He groans, loudly this time, digging his fingers into my updo and ruining my hard work in the best possible way. In moments, he’s unbuttoned and unzipped, his thick length free from his pants. I kiss a hot, wet path along his sensitive flesh, and Hayes makes a strangled sound.

  “Fuck, dove . . . Fuuuck,” he says breathlessly, his low voice crackling like hot coals.

  The desperate sound of him, the hot, hard feel of him in my hands, is enough to drive me crazy. But I know I’ll get my reward later, so I focus my efforts on making Hayes lose his mind. And he does . . . quickly.

  “I’m gonna come.” His fingers loosen their grasp, giving me an out if I need it.

  I don’t back away and swallow him even deeper. When he finally catches his breath, I’m gazing up at him.

  “Holy hell,” he says with a chuckle. Helping me to my feet, Hayes wraps me in his arms, warmth radiating from him like a bonfire. He mumbles against my neck, “I messed up your hair.”

  “That’s okay.” I smile, nestling against him. I have so much affection for this man, I could burst.

  “I needed that.” He sighs, leaning back to meet my gaze. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I say with a smile, pressing a light kiss to his smiling lips.

  “Can I return the favor tonight?”

  I nod once, my heart rate picking up at the idea of Hayes on his knees before me, treating me to white-hot pleasure. “Of course.”

  His smile widens, and his eyes dance mischievously on mine.

  Once we’ve collected ourselves and I’ve repaired my hair, we sneak out of the bathroom and back out through the busy ice cream shop. The cashier is too busy mopping up that little kid’s mess to be concerned with us.

  We make our way outside, and it’s nearly dark out when the couple of the year returns, only separating their clasped hands to wave once they spot us at the edge of the beach. Hayes and I wave back, and Rosie cocks her head in response to his lazy smile.

  “You really have a way with my grandson,” she says as they approach. “He’s so relaxed after a little alone time with you.”

  She reaches out to pat Hayes on the shoulder, who barely manages to keep his game face together. Meanwhile, I’m as red as a stop sign. She doesn’t know the half of it.

  The drive back to Riverside is oddly pleasant. Hayes invites Don to sit in the front seat with him, and I gladly join Rosie in the back. The men share an awkward but sweet conversation about the best things to do in Chicago, while Rosie and I share an awkward but sweet look of appreciation. He’s trying.

  When we arrive, Rosie insists on walking Don back inside. I crawl up to the front seat, a tangle of knees and elbows that sends Hayes diving for cover.

  “Why didn’t you just get out and get b
ack in?” He chuckles, brushing some dirt off his shoulder from my shoe.

  I laugh, shrugging. “Do you care?”

  “No,” he says, a sexy little smile spreading across his face.

  He reaches out, his fingers tracing my jawline before he presses his thumb softly against my chin. It’s a simple, chaste gesture, but it sends a warm wave of pleasure through me.

  When Hayes looks out the window again, his smile drops like a bag of bricks. I follow his gaze to see Don and Rosie sharing a good-night kiss, and my heart explodes.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, bouncing in my seat. “That’s sooo cute.”

  “It’s not cute, Mare. It’s weird. And ballsy, but not in a good way. I don’t know this guy. For all I know, he’s just trying to steal Rosie’s social security checks.”

  I angle an eyebrow at him. “Does Rosie have a sizable pension or something?”

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration before mumbling, “No.”

  “Hmm.” I lean over, patting him softly on the thigh. “You may not know Don, but I do. So you don’t have to trust him. You can just trust me. Okay?”

  Hayes struggles with this for a moment. Truthfully, my patience is wearing thin.

  “Tell me what’s really worrying you.”

  He sighs softly. “I’m worried about what every man is worried about when his grandmother falls in love with a ninety-year-old man.”

  My eyes narrow on his. “Him dying?”

  Hayes scoffs. “Him breaking her heart.”

  “Relax, babe,” I mutter, wishing we could just skip ahead to the part where everyone’s chummy.

  “Babe?” he asks, turning to me with an amused look that overpowers the discomfort that was threatening to set up base for good.

  Oops . . . I guess that’s one way to make him feel better.

  “Is that okay?” I ask cautiously. Maybe I took it too far.