McCoy: A Bad Boy Romance

by Michelle Amy

  McCoy

  A Bad Boy Romance: Part Two

  Michelle Amy

  Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Amy, All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please refer all pertinent questions to the publisher.

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  Table of Contents

  1 CHAPTER ONE

  2 CHAPTER TWO

  3 CHAPTER THREE

  4 CHAPTER FOUR

  5 CHAPTER FIVE

  6 CHAPTER SIX

  7 CHAPTER SEVEN

  8 CHAPTER EIGHT

  9 CHAPTER NINE

  10 CHAPTER TEN

  11 CHAPTER ELEVEN

  12 CHAPTER TWELVE

  13 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  14 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  15 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  16 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  17 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Chapter One

  McCoy was standing at the island in my kitchen with a potato peeler in one hand. His head was bowed as he worked, peeling one after another and dropping the skins into the waste bin at his feet. I was leaning against the counter behind him admiring the line of his broad shoulders and messy mane of black hair.

  He cast a quick glance at me over his shoulder and scowled. “Am I the only one working?”

  “You look good in the kitchen,” I chuckled, turning back to the pan on the counter. I seasoned the asparagus before turning back to McCoy and sidling up beside him. “Actually, you look good anywhere.”

  He gave me a crooked devious grin that always made me swoon. “I like when you remind me how good I look.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And so humble.”

  McCoy laughed and began chopping potatoes. “So, what do you know about this guy anyways? What’s his name again, Spencer?”

  “Yes,” I said, leaning on the counter and watching him work. I watched the tendons in his hands and stared at the veins in his forearms. I watched his dark eyes as he focused on his work. I watched his lips. “I don’t know much about him. Carly met him on a blind date. I think they’ve gone out quite a few times now. If she wants us to meet him she must really like him.”

  “What if I don’t like him?” That same devious smile was still lingering on his lips.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think about him,” I quipped, “it matters what I think about him. I’m the best friend. My opinion is important.”

  “Just like Carly’s was about me?”

  I pursed my lips. “You were different.”

  McCoy laughed. He made a good point. When I had first met him it hadn’t been an entirely pleasant interaction. Carly and I had been out drinking and dancing together, and I had tried to take her home when it was clear that she had indulged in a bit too much tequila. On our walk home Carly had gotten cozy on someone’s front lawn and then promptly began to regurgitate her dinner.

  While she was sick a group of four men across the street approached us. One of them, a man in an oversized sweater with the cruellest smile I had ever seen, had run his hand up the inseam of my jeans and nearly forced us into the back of his car. McCoy had been one of the men among them, and he talked the other men out of it and they ended up leaving us on the front lawn.

  When I ran into McCoy at a bar a week later I couldn’t resist the temptation to get a good look at him and thank him for what he did. When I sat down and started talking to him I knew that I was hooked. His dark eyes and his mysterious attitude made my knees feel weak, and I let him take me home that night. We had been together ever since.

  Our relationship hadn’t been without its trials. Carly had resented McCoy from the get go. She had a good reason- when we first met him he was hanging out with a bunch of gang banger’s whose transparent intentions were not so kind to me or Carly. McCoy had an edge. He could be mean. He could be dangerous. Carly didn’t want me getting tied up with someone like him.

  But, when push came to shove, Carly saw that McCoy was more than what she had first seen. She trusted him, and after everything with my ex, Jason, she saw that McCoy really cared for me. He had saved me when Jason broke into my house on a drunken bender with a baseball bat. McCoy hadn’t managed to get through it unscathed, but he put a stop to the whole thing. His fists left Jason in a bloodied heap on my hardwood floor. If I hadn’t had stopped him, I knew McCoy would have continued the beating until my ex was dead.

  “What time are they coming over?” McCoy asked, dropping the chopped potatoes into the pot of boiling water on the stove.

  “Seven.”

  McCoy raised an eyebrow and came to me. He put his hands on each of my hips and used his body to push me back against the counter. “So I still have you all to myself for another half hour.”

  I blushed. Somehow, after three and a half months, he was still capable of making me feel like a high school girl. “You do. How do you intend to spend that time?”

  He looked at my ceiling thoughtfully and rubbed his thumb along his jaw; his perfect, square, stubble covered jaw. He turned his eyes back down to me and his hand fell from his jaw and rested on the side of my neck. He drew me to him, the other hand on my hip undoing my blouse from my skirt. He slid his hand up the inside of my shirt and rested it on my lower back. He tilted my head back and pressed his lips lightly against my neck. He moved up ever so slowly until he kissed my lips. The first kiss was sweet and soft, as it always was, and then grew more eager.

  He drew away and I stared up at him feeling dopey and giddy. “You are such a tease,” I purred.

  “I know.” The hand on my back moved upwards and unclipped my bra. He traced his thumb beneath the underwire and then cupped one of my breasts in his warm hand.

  “This isn’t fair at all,” I breathed, “we don’t have time to-”

  “Shh.” He released my neck and held one finger to his lips to silence me. “Time is… objective.”

  “You’re a-”

  “I told you to be quiet.”

  I shut my mouth and glared at him. He liked being in control, and I liked letting him call the shots. It was a non negotiable standard with him. Sometimes he would let me play the game, but it was only on a rare occasion.

  He chuckled before effortlessly lifting me up and sitting me down on the counter in front of him. He pushed my legs apart and stood between them, pushing my skirt up my legs and resting his hands on my bare thighs. He looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. “Are you not even wearing panties?”

  I leaned back on my wrists and didn’t answer him.

  “How did I ever get this lucky?” His hands moved up my legs. I let him trace his fingers gently on the inside of my thighs and I felt a warmth settle between my legs. His fingers drew closer and closer to their mark, until he finally grazed my clit. He rubbed me in slow circles, the way he knew I liked it, and watched me all the while.

  I bit my bottom lip and hooked my legs around his.

  He took this as encouragement and slipped a finger inside me. I reached out and wrapped my fingers in the front of his shirt and drew him down to me. I kissed him as he worked his magic. He tasted sweet; like mint and wine. I grew breathless as his rhythm became nearly intolerable. I gripped the edge of the counter and moan
ed into our kiss.

  It only took a few more seconds before I was a quivering mess of pleasure. McCoy smiled down at me and I straightened myself out, drawing up towards him and kissing his perfect lips while my fingers fumbled with the fly of his jeans. He remained still, letting me struggle, until I finally found success and I pulled his jeans down around his thighs.

  Thoughts of Carly and Spencer arriving during our moment of passion had long since fluttered out of my brain. I tugged McCoy’s boxers down and he nearly popped out of them. I giggled, stroked him gently, and then looked playfully up at him. “Are you going to make me wait?”

  He didn’t make me wait. He sealed his lips over mine and as he kissed me he slowly eased himself into me. I was wet and more than ready, and as he filled me I clutched the back of his shirt, bunching it up in my fists.

  His hands held my neck and cheek as he kissed me, and I let myself give in to the ecstasy that coursed through my body. I bit his bottom lip and knitted my fingers in his hair. I slipped my hands up the back of his shirt and traced his shoulder blades with my nails. I showed him how good he made me feel.

  He held my legs up so that he could press himself deeper into me. He was slow and gentle as he eased his way in. When the pressure subsided he worked up his momentum until I couldn’t contain my breathless moans any longer. My head fell back and the ends of my hair rested across the countertop. His thrusts quickened and my toes curled. I said his name over and over, and he filled me with his warm wetness at the same time that I reached my climax.

  We stayed where we were, out of breath and still attached to one another. He left himself inside me as he held my butt cheeks in both hands and kissed me. This was what true happiness felt like; this moment right here was so much more than I could ever have imagined sharing with someone.

  He kissed the tip of my nose and leaned backwards so he could look at me. “You look even more beautiful after I make you cum.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and slapped his chest. “Stop it.”

  “It’s true. I’m just that good. You’re all glowing, and your hair is-”

  “Totally messed up now?” I scowled.

  “Not at all.”

  He liked when my hair was messy. I thought it was some sort of weird, macho, male ego sort of thing. I never mentioned it to him. I let him enjoy looking at me in my dishevelled still-recovering-from-my-orgasm state.

  Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

  “Oh, shit,” I breathed. I went to push myself down, but McCoy didn’t move. He remained between my legs smiling down at me like the devil himself.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “They’re here,” I said, “Carly is always early I should have-”

  “I’ll get the door,” he whispered. “I’ll tell them that we just need a few more minutes to… do whatever.”

  I glared at him. “How do I let you convince me to do these kinds of things? This is so embarrassing.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “You seemed to enjoy yourself. Who cares if they know we were having sex?”

  “I don’t care if they know…” I paused. That was a lie. “I’m going to get dressed. Don’t say anything too humiliating to them, okay?” I slid off the counter and fixed my skirt. “You’re going to be the death of me,” I said, hurrying out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I knew my cheeks would be bright red. I had to go and calm down before I dared show my face.

  When I slipped into my bedroom I heard McCoy answer the door and greet Carly and Spencer. I heard him tell them that we just needed a few minutes. Carly retorted with something snarky, and he told her she could wait on the porch. This, of course, sent her into a whirlwind of laughter and jokes, which were promptly silenced when McCoy closed the door on her.

  I hurried into the bathroom. I was right, my cheeks were flushed and my eyes were dopey. I drank some water and lay down on my bed, trying to force myself to relax.

  McCoy was the kind of man who always got what he wanted. I didn’t mind. In fact, I loved what he could do to me. He took risks and he forced me to do the same, and the thrill of it was nearly as intoxicating as his kiss. He arrived in the bedroom and threw himself down on the bed beside me.

  “Control yourself. You will have to wait until they leave,” I teased, slowly moving away from him.

  He held me close to him and his breath on my neck and the way the stubble on his jaw grazed my skin threatened to make me go mad. “Fine, I can wait,” he kissed my shoulder, “it will be worth it.”

  He slid off the bed and I followed him. He went to the washroom to clean himself up and I fanned my face with my hand in an effort to chase away the redness in my face. “She’s never going to let me live this down,” I called to him through the bathroom door.

  He wrenched it open and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He winked at me. “Neither will I.”

  “Of course,” I muttered, “I can’t win with you guys.”

  “Mm,” he said, “point is you are too easily embarrassed. One of these days I’m going to have to really push you out of your comfort zone.”

  McCoy was already five hundred comfort zones away from what I was used to. I shook my head. “No thanks.”

  He clasped his hands together. “Oh yes. One day. Not today, not tomorrow,” his voice rose like he was giving a speech before a battle in an old war movie, “but one day.”

  I rolled my eyes as I flattened my skirt down and pulled my bra back over my breasts. “How do I look?”

  “Not bad…”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “You look perfect,” he corrected. He pushed himself off the doorframe and stood before me. He rested a hand lightly on my hip. “Really, you do. I’m just picking on you. It’s too much fun.”

  I smiled up at him. “I know you are.”

  He kissed my cheek and turned to the door. “Shall we go let Carly in before she decides to break in through one of the windows?”

  I nodded. “Probably.”

  Chapter Two

  “Hey,” I said as I opened the front door, “sorry, I kind of lost track of time.”

  Carly grinned at me. “Nothing to worry about, we’re early. I should have expected we’d be interrupting something. Spencer, this is my girl Veronica. Veronica, this is Spencer.”

  Spencer was standing beside Carly on the porch with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. He was wearing a pale blue polo shirt tucked into a pair of khakis that were a little too short for him, revealing a pair of argyle patterned socks. I stared at his socks for a moment before looking up at his blue eyes. They were such a light shade they nearly matched his shirt. He extended a hand and I shook it. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, “I’ve heard a lot of good things.”

  I grinned and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too. Come on in, you guys. Feel free to leave your shoes on.” Carly slipped out of her high heels and Spencer kept his shoes on.

  As I lead them into the kitchen I offered up drinks. Spencer opted for a beer and I poured the rest of us a glass of red wine. McCoy was standing at the kitchen sink unwrapping the steaks we had bought that afternoon. He put them down and nodded at Spencer. “Hey man, nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand but, you know, meat juices.”

  Spencer nodded and grinned. “No worries, nice to meet you too. I’m glad we could all get together like this.”

  McCoy touched my elbow once he was done unpacking all the meat. “That guy looks familiar.”

  “Familiar?” I said

  “Never mind… it’s probably just me. I’m going to throw the steaks on the barbeque.”

  I nodded. “Alright.”

  Spencer tapped Carly’s bottom. “I’m going to go out with him, give you girls some alone time. And McCoy and I can talk about guy stuff. Right man?” He asked, lifting his beer as if in a toast.

  “Sure,” McCoy answered, shooting me a humorous glance.

  When they disappeared out back to start the barbeque I settled down on on
e of my barstools beside Carly. “So, he seems nice.”

  Carly smiled. “He’s no McCoy, but I like him.”

  I frowned.

  “I don’t mean anything bad by that, Veronica. McCoy is a rare breed. He’s sexy as hell and menacing and good. You know? It’s a weird combination. But it works. And he’s so good to you. The way he looks at you… that’s all that I want. And maybe Spencer will be that guy. Time will tell.”

  I put my hand on hers. “Even if he’s not that guy, it just means you haven’t found him yet.”

  Carly smiled. “Yeah. I know.”

  The two men returned from outside. McCoy slid my patio door closed behind them and I watched him as he listened to Spencer talk. He didn’t even bother to look at him as he made his way back into the kitchen to grab his wine.

  Spencer was laughing. “Carly,” he said, “you never told me McCoy was a photographer. I never would have guessed. You seem more suited to, I dunno, be a bouncer or something.”

  “Why’s that?” McCoy asked, sipping his wine and leaning against my kitchen counter. His body language was easy for me to read. He didn’t like Spencer. To be more accurate, he really didn’t like Spencer.

  Spencer shrugged and moved to stand behind Carly. He put his hands on her shoulders and began giving her a light massage. “I dunno, man. You just don’t give off photographer vibes. You give off… don’t fuck with me vibes.” Spencer chuckled. “If Carly hadn’t told me about you first I wouldn’t have known what to think about you.”

  McCoy made a sound in the back of his throat and put his wine down. “Well, she didn’t tell me much about you, so I get to put the pieces together all on my own.” The corner of his mouth curved upwards.

  The tension was thick. Spencer’s elbow bumped my shoulder as he continued to massage Carly. I inched away awkwardly and shot a glance at McCoy. He was watching Spencer, who was dipping his head down and now chatting quietly to Carly. The two of them giggled, shared a quick kiss, and then parted. McCoy’s eyes followed Spencer as he walked behind me.

  I had found that the only thing that sometimes made me uncomfortable in my relationship was McCoy’s all consuming need to protect me. He saw everyone and everything as a threat. It was in his nature. He had spent his childhood living in fear of his father’s angry fists. It built a strong mistrust in him that I doubted he would ever overcome.