Blue-Collar Bad Boys Next Door: The Full Eight-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  “Oh,” I say coyly, my heart pounding. “Did I say that?”

  He backs me toward the bed and gently pushes me down. “You did say that. And now I have to know more.”

  I suck in my breath as he reaches for my panties and pulls them down. Then he parts my thighs and runs his fingers lightly over my mound. I shudder, feeling an intense tingle that begs for just a little nudge closer to a fierce climax.

  “Mm-hmm,” he murmurs. “Soft and smooth. But I wonder what you taste like?”

  Oh holy hell…

  I hold my breath as he lowers his head—and release it in a squealing cry once his mouth lands on me. One, two, three swipes of his tongue, and I erupt with a scream.

  I pull on his shoulders and he slides up my body and kisses me. “I’m going to need more of that later on,” he murmurs. “Are you ready for me, beautiful?”

  I reach down inside his snug boxer briefs and wrap my hand around his long, thick cock. It’s warm and smooth and fills my hand. My excitement ratchets up to another level. I want to feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.

  No, wait.

  I want to feel something I’ve never felt before.

  Brock strips off his underwear, guides himself to me, and pushes into me slowly. I gasp. He’s huge. There’s no way he’s going to fit. But he takes his time, kissing me as he goes, and finally reaches my limit.

  We’re both motionless for a moment, breathing hard.

  “It’s been a while for me too,” he says with some difficulty. “Bear with me while I try not to lose my shit.”

  “Even if you do, we have time,” I say breathlessly. “Right? I mean…”

  I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I don’t want to be a scratch to an itch he has. But is this too soon? Is all of this too soon? Am I behaving like some immature teenager with her first boyfriend?

  Brock kisses me again, slow and deep. “Yes. We have time.”

  Then he starts to move, and I can’t think anymore.

  Is this what sex is supposed to be like? As he glides in and out of me, hitting sensitive, deeply pleasurable areas inside me I never knew I had, I’m in ecstasy, and I’m also a little heartbroken. All that time I wasted with Kip, and I could have been spending it with a real man who actually cares about me.

  I cradle Brock in my arms as he moves, grunting softly in my ear.

  “Is this good?” he murmurs.

  “Yes,” I reply, eyes half shut. “So good…”

  Then something happens.

  A deep-rooted tingle from inside me starts heating up. At the same time, it feels like my muscles or my nerves or, I don’t know, my soul, start coiling tighter and tighter and tighter.

  It can’t go much tighter, I think with a gasp, grabbing Brock’s hips and guiding him to fuck me harder. If it gets tighter it’s going to—

  “Oh my fucking goodness gracious!” I cry as my body explodes. I expect there to be pieces of me all over the room—not in a gross way, but like in an ephemeral, soul-shattering way. In the best possible way.

  Waves of hot pleasure roll over me, one after the other after the other. Dimly, I’m aware of Brock quietly groaning my name as his thrusts get faster and faster. His cock throbs inside me, and I know he’s experiencing the same insane pleasure I’m only now coming down from.

  We stay glued together, panting.

  “That’s never happened to me before,” I confess.

  He lifts his head. “Coming? During sex?”

  I nod. “I never…I never knew I could experience that.” Inexplicably, tears gather in my eyes and roll down the sides of my face. I laugh through my tears. “Why am I crying?”

  He kisses me tenderly. “Because it’s important. Because you deserve to feel that. To know you deserve to feel that.”

  My tears turn into full-on sobs. “I’m sorry,” I manage to say. “I just—I feel so happy and so sad, all at the same time.”

  He moves off to the side of me and pulls me close. “It’s okay,” he whispers against my hair. “I’m here for you. And I’m going to make sure you stay happy.”

  I blink up at him. “You promise?”

  “I swear.”

  My tears subside, and I feel a little silly. But I never knew how special something like that is. I never knew that all it took was someone who gave a shit, who was genuinely interested in me and what brought me pleasure and happiness.

  “Don’t…don’t go anywhere, okay?” I murmur into Brock’s chest.

  His arms tighten around me. “There is nowhere else I would rather be than right here with you.”

  As I fall asleep, safe in his arms, I believe him.

  7

  Taryn

  As it turns out, Brock is not just good at cooking dinner. He’s also great at making breakfast.

  When I wake up in the morning, the smell of bacon and coffee and something sweet waft into my nose. I’m still naked from the night before—and a little sore, since Brock took me two more times during the night, and it was absolutely incredible. Each time was better than the last, something I just didn’t think would be possible.

  I can hear him whistling to himself as he makes whatever it is he’s making. Smiling, I find his discarded button-up from the night before on the floor and pick it up, buttoning it loosely. I use the bathroom, brush my teeth with the extra, disposable toothbrush he so thoughtfully set out for me, then I head out to see what he’s up to.

  He catches sight of me out of the corner of his eye where he stands at the stove and does a double take. One brow arches and he smiles. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” I say, feeling somewhat self-conscious. Even after all we shared last night—and I mean, he left no part of me untouched or untasted—it’s different to be so exposed in the light of day. I’m uncomfortable with my thick thighs and generous ass basically on display under his shirt and wonder if I should have actually gotten dressed.

  Brock steps over to me and draws me close. His lips are firm, insistent, and full of need—and so is his dick, which I feel immediately grow hard against me through his sweats. “You’re fucking beautiful first thing in the morning, Taryn, did you know that?”

  A thrill goes through me, and my doubts vanish. “Thank you. You’re pretty damn delectable yourself.”

  He tilts his forehead against mine. “I think I want to have you for breakfast.”

  I bite my lip. “Down, boy.”

  He playfully growls, then nods toward the couch. “Want to sit? I’ll serve you breakfast.”

  “You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” I say, flushing. No one has ever treated me like this before. Maybe that’s because I’ve been wasting my time with a boy when I should’ve been with a real man.

  I head to the couch, and he fusses in the kitchen a little more before he presents me with a plate full of waffles, bacon, and hash browns.

  “Wow,” I say in a hushed voice.

  He chuckles. “It’s passable. I’m sure you’ve had better in your life.”

  “No, it’s not that.” I hesitate, my eyes burning. I can’t hide the tears in them as I gaze up at him. “No one’s ever made me breakfast before.” I try to swallow the tears quietly, but I end up gulping loudly.

  He smiles at me tenderly. “Oh, baby.” He leans down and kisses me. “Get used to it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s all a dream.”

  Brock tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Then he frowns. “Shit. I forgot, I’m all out of coffee.”

  “That’s okay,” I say with a shrug.

  “I could use some,” he says. “There’s a café just around the corner. I can be there and back in ten minutes. You sure I can’t bring you something?”

  “Well…” I know the café he’s mentioned, and they have the best dirty chai latte I’ve ever had. “If you’re going, maybe a dirty chai latte?”

  “You got it, sweetheart. Don’t let your breakfast get cold.” He smiles, kisses me again, then heads out.

  It
feels rude to eat without him, but it looks so good and I’m hungry, so I dive in. The waffles are sweet and fluffy, almost like donut batter.

  I’m so busy with my food it takes me a minute to realize there’s a steady metallic banging sound coming from outside.

  I lift my head, frowning. The noise continues.

  Wiping my mouth, I stand and hurry to the patio window that overlooks the parking lot. Brock and I both live on the third floor. I step outside and peer down.

  My jaw falls open in shock.

  Kip is there, swinging what looks like a metal pipe against my car.

  For a moment, I can only stand there, in utter disbelief at what I’m seeing.

  My windshield is crumpling in on itself. I have no driver’s side window anymore, the hood is completely dented, and then I notice at least two of my tires are flat.

  Then I snap out of it. “What the fuck are you doing!”

  Kip’s head snaps up. Even from up here, I can tell he’s drunk. “Get down here, you bitch, or I’m going to destroy every car in this lot!”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, whirling back toward the patio door. I quickly throw on my dress from the night before and hurry down the steps outside.

  “Kip, stop!” I yell rushing toward him as he swings the pipe toward another car that belongs to someone else. I try to grab his arm. He flails wildly, and I jump back, just missing getting clobbered by the pipe.

  “You’re going to pay me,” he screams, staggering toward me. “You’re going to pay me, or I’m going to kill you!”

  I take his threats about as seriously as I take a man telling me what period cramps are like, but he does have a weapon, and he did just swing it at me.

  “Kip, you need to get the fuck out of here,” I tell him. “You’re going to get arrested, do you get that?”

  Just then, a man comes hustling out of the leasing office in the center of the complex. I recognize him as the apartment manager, and he looks infuriated. He holds a dark object in each hand. One of them is a phone, and the other one is…a Taser.

  “What the hell is going on here?” He points at me. “You again!”

  “What do you mean?” I yell, then cry out as Kip bashes out my back window.

  “I called the cops!” the manager says, then points his Taser at Kip. “Stop, or get Tased, young man!”

  “Fuck you,” Kip bellows and smacks my car again.

  I place my hands on either side of my face, unable to accept what I’m seeing. My car. My fucking car.

  I just paid it off this spring, and it was the one thing in all this moving-out madness that brought me some relief. It was one less bill I had to worry about, and it was the thing that got me to and from the other thing that paid me money.

  And now, it was destroyed. Even if it ran, it was going to cost an arm and a fucking leg to fix. All six windows. Three tires, now. Dented hood, bashed in doors, fender.

  Kip lifts the pipe to bring it down on my car again.

  Zzzzzz!

  It happens so fast, I’m not sure what happens for a second. But then Kip’s entire body stiffens and with a long, soul-deep grunt of pain, he keels over, the pipe clanging to the ground.

  “Shit!” I shout.

  Then the apartment manager points the Taser at me. “Don’t you move, either!”

  “What’d I do?” I’m genuinely stunned and freeze in place.

  “I don’t know who started this mess, but you’re responsible too!”

  “What the hell is this?”

  The new voice brings a deep sense of relief. I turn, my hands in the air, as Brock strides toward us, a steaming paper cup in each hand, looking furious. Behind me, on the ground, Kip groans again.

  “This woman has been causing disturbances here since she moved in,” the manager snaps. “And this man showed up drunk, bashing in cars!”

  “That’s my car,” I tell Brock, tears finally streaming down my cheeks. “Kip destroyed my car!”

  “Hold on, now, sir,” Brock says, setting the cups down on the sidewalk. “I don’t think you’re being fair here. This isn’t her f—”

  “Save it for the cops,” the manager barks as two police cruisers pull into the lot.

  Brock slides an arm around me. “It’s going to be okay.”

  The cops take Kip—who, it appears, pissed himself on the concrete—into custody, then circle back to talk to each of us. I’m not able to stem the flow of tears, but my voice doesn’t shake as I tell them what happened. They ask if I want to press charges against Kip, and I vehemently reply, “Yes.”

  After about an hour, they cart him off.

  The manager points at me. “Consider this your thirty-day eviction notice.”

  I gasp. “For what?”

  “I can’t have someone like you living here, someone who brings this kind of element around. I recommend starting your search today.”

  “Then you can consider this my thirty-day moveout notice,” Brock says angrily. “Because I won’t live someplace where you treat tenants like this.”

  “Good,” the manager snaps. “Both of you can have each other!”

  He walks away, and my shoulders slump. “Why,” I wail.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Brock says again, reaching for my hand.

  “No, it’s not!” I whirl to face him, thrusting my hands into my hair. “My car is destroyed. I can’t afford to fix it or buy a new one. And now I don’t have a place to live. This was the only apartment in Port City I could afford!”

  Brock pulls me to him. “Listen to me for a sec, okay, Taryn? Just listen.”

  I stare up at him.

  “I can help you with your car,” he says. “Plus, you’ve got insurance, right? Don’t worry about it. I’m going to make sure it’s okay. Now, as for a new place to live…”

  I swallow. “Yes?”

  “It’s been in the works for a while for me to buy this house,” he says quietly. “A small place. Bigger than the apartment, of course, but nothing too fancy. I’ve had most of it remodeled. It’s in a nice, quiet neighborhood. When I was out getting coffee, I got a call from the realtor. It’s going to be ready at the end of the week.”

  My heart starts to race.

  He lifts his gaze to mine. “I know it sounds crazy. I know it does. But…I’d love it if you’d move in with me.” He huffs a little laugh. “Assuming I haven’t scared you off already, let me throw in this: I’m in love with you.”

  “Brock,” I say in a tiny voice.

  “The mortgage is a little more than our monthly rent here, but we’d be splitting it. I’ll pay most of it. It’s a nice little place, Taryn, and I think…I think you’d be really happy there. I know I will. If you want to do this with me.”

  I throw my arms around his neck, and he hugs me tightly for a long moment.

  “Is that a yes?” he murmurs.

  “I—are you sure?” I ask in his ear. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” he replies, and kisses my cheek. “Are you? I mean, I’m kinda boring.”

  “You’re amazing.” I cup his face and lean back. “Brock McNair, I want to be crazy with you. Yes, I want to move in with you!”

  He grins. “You won’t be sorry.” He leans his forehead against mine. “Roomie.”

  I return his kiss, more happy tears streaming down my cheek. Did I mention I’m a huge crybaby?

  “No, not roomies,” I say.

  He looks at me quizzically.

  “Lovers,” I tell him, and pull his face down to mine to kiss him with everything I have.

  Epilogue

  Brock

  Six months later

  Taryn grins at me across the table, across the rows of burning candles—thirty-six of them—arranged neatly on top of a strawberry cake with thick cream cheese frosting. The truth is, I’m so stuffed from the meal she cooked—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and roasted green beans—I’m not sure I can squeeze in another bite, but she spent the day baking and expertly decorating the cake, I can’t re
fuse.

  She was already a great baker, but her cooking skills amplified once we moved into the new house. It seemed she just needed a nicely sized kitchen and lots of tools to find her way. Now, she’s a better cook than me.

  “Make a wish, birthday boy,” she says brightly.

  I grin. “Okay, let’s see—”

  “You have to close your eyes,” she interrupts.

  I obey, then crack one open. “You’re awfully bossy, you know? I am thirty-six now, after all.”

  “Yeah, thirty-six going on nineteen,” she teases back.

  I’m now officially ten years older than Taryn, at least until her birthday that’s in another three months. But that age gap hasn’t made the slightest bit of difference between us. Our hearts are aligned. We want the same things, and we’re happier together than we ever were apart—or with the wrong people.

  I sigh, as if terribly pained by all of this. “Okay. Let’s see. I wish…”

  I trail off, slipping a hand in my pocket to withdraw the small box I stuck in there before dinner. I open it under the table, then reach around the cake to set it before her.

  I open my eyes, finding hers wide, her mouth a perfect O as she gazes down at the brilliant diamond ring glittering in the candlelight.

  “I wish that you’ll say you’ll marry me,” I tell her softly, “and make me the happiest birthday boy on the planet.”

  She lifts shocked brown eyes to mine. “Brock…”

  I reach for her hand. “These last six months have been the very best of my entire life, Taryn, and I really hope you believe me when I say it.” I caress her hand with my thumb. “You’ve made me so happy. So fulfilled. I realize now I was just living this life and biding my time until I met you. So, what do you say?”

  A tear slips down her cheek. It makes me smile. She’s such an emotional person, but not in a bad way. It just tells me she feels everything with her whole heart.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”