McCoy: A Bad Boy Romance

by Michelle Amy

  “This is a really nice place you have here, Veronica. You have good taste,” Spencer commented.

  The three of us chatted casually amongst each other- McCoy remained where he was, stoically watching us from his place in the kitchen. He only engaged in conversation when Carly motioned over to him to fill up her wine glass. She held the bottle of wine up to McCoy, whose wine glass was nearly emptied. He nodded silently and she filled up his glass and raised hers in a cheers. They clinked their glasses and each took a sip in unison. When McCoy raised his glass his eyes went back to Spencer, who he watched over the glass rim until he lowered his drink once more.

  “Should we check on those steaks, man?” Spencer asked, putting his beer down near my elbow on the counter.

  “I’ve got it,” McCoy answered, “you relax and enjoy.”

  Spencer reached out a hand to Carly. She put her glass down and took it and he pulled her to him. He hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek. “It’s easy to enjoy when you’re with this girl.”

  Carly giggled and I shot McCoy a glare as he rolled his eyes. He caught my stare and shrugged apologetically before heading back out to the patio.

  “So,” Spencer said, tapping me on the shoulder.

  “So?”

  “What’s his issue?”

  I bit my tongue. “McCoy?”

  “That’s the only person in the room I could be referring to with ‘his’, isn’t it?” Spencer disguised the insult with a humorous laugh. Carly giggled. I didn’t. I had seen this kind of egotistical show before, and it reminded me all too much of how Jason used to talk to me.

  “He doesn’t have an issue,” I said.

  “Sure seems like he does. Walks around the place like someone put a stick up his ass. Do the two of you like to do naughty things like that to each other?”

  Carly slapped him playfully. Spencer caught her wrist and put her hand down. Then he kissed her forehead. I recognized another sign in his controlling body language that Carly was completely unaware of. I was starting to see why McCoy was not even trying to play nice with Spencer.

  He saw that his question bothered me. “That was too forward of me, sorry Veronica. I’m just messing around.”

  “It’s alright,” I shrugged. “And as for McCoy, it just takes him a bit longer to warm up to people. If you give him the time to get to know you he’ll come around.”

  Carly nodded. “Yes, I felt the same way when I met him. Now I get it. He’s cool.”

  “Cool?” Spencer asked, looking down at her. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Carly nodded. “Yep.”

  McCoy walked back in with a plate full of steaks on it. He nodded towards us and put the steaks on the counter. I hopped off my chair and drew the rest of the food out of the oven. “It’s serve yourself style,” I said apologetically, “we aren’t fancy enough to set it all on the table. And my table is too small.”

  We all filled our plates and took our seats at the table. I sat beside McCoy and rested a hand on his knee. I squeezed gently as Carly and Spencer sat down across from us. He put his hand over mine.

  “Looks good,” I said to him.

  “I hope so,” McCoy answered me, affording me a small smile as he let go of my hand.

  The first few minutes of our meal were spent in silence as everyone ate. I tried to think of something to say that would encourage a conversation that held a very small risk for confrontation. I tried to get Carly’s attention to urge her to help me, but she was wrapped up in Spencer, who was offering her a bite from his plate. She giggled when he intentionally missed her mouth and left a drop of gravy on her cheek. She dabbed it away with a napkin and looked up at McCoy and me.

  She blinked and blushed and I realized that the two of us had probably been staring with the same blank expression. This childish flirting made me feel uncomfortable.

  McCoy cut into his steak and cleared his throat. “So, property management, hey Spencer? What made you get into that?”

  Spencer, it turned out, was exceptional at talking about himself. I didn’t get a word in for a solid fifteen minutes as he told McCoy about the three buildings he managed. Carly seemed content to sit and listen as Spencer filled our ears with boring details about some of his clients.

  McCoy nodded along politely throughout the entirety of the discussion. I wondered dimly if he had asked the question intentionally and had been expecting this sort of one-sided conversation.

  Eventually Spencer tired of the subject. “What about you, man?”

  “What about me?” McCoy asked.

  “What made you get into, you know, taking pictures for a living?” His tone was condescending. If McCoy noticed, he didn’t let on.

  “It’s always been something I was into since I was about ten. My mom bought me one of those shitty point-and-shoot Kodak cameras for my birthday. I looked forward to going once a month to get the film developed. I would go at the end of every month. And it carried on from there, I guess.”

  “What kind of things does a ten year old take pictures of?” Spencer asked as he popped a piece of steak into his mouth. It was a massive bite, and I forced my features to remain neutral when he chewed with his mouth somewhat open.

  McCoy shrugged. “Mostly I took pictures of her.”

  “Who?”

  “My mother,” McCoy said flatly. “There are full albums of her in our family home- doing dishes, or her makeup, or laundry.”

  I looked over at him beside me. His eyes were cast down and his cutlery was resting on his plate. “I didn’t know that,” I said.

  McCoy nodded. “If I ever get my hands on them I’ll show you.”

  “I’d love to see them.”

  Spencer took another bite of steak. “Whatever floats your boat, man. I’d suck at that. Not to mention my mom would have chased me out of the kitchen if I was always pestering her with a camera.” He shot me a glance. “What about the lovely Veronica? What made you get into publishing?”

  I felt McCoy stiffen beside me. Carly looked up at me too and I saw something in her features that looked like disappointment. “I’ve always been an avid reader,” I said, “I love books. I want to find talent out there. I think there are writers who never get a fair chance, and I think I could help show the world work that needs to be shared.”

  “Artists,” Spencer laughed, “the never ending mission to enlighten the rest of us.”

  I stared at him flatly.

  “I don’t mean any offense by that,” he said, “it’s just a fact, that’s all. The rest of us need people like you. And photographers, of course.”

  “Of course,” McCoy said under his breath beside me. “And we need folks like you, making sure our tenants agreements are met and no kitchen sinks aren’t leaking.”

  Spencer’s eyes narrowed on McCoy.

  McCoy laughed and held his hands up. “I don’t mean any offense by that, man, it’s just a fact.”

  I felt terribly uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. I continued to wait for Spencer to say something that would provoke McCoy. I was sure that eventually one of them would decide that enough was enough, and they would try to put the other in their place. I hoped, for Spencer’s sake, that he was able to keep his mouth closed.

  Finally Spencer stood and stretched. “It’s getting pretty late. Carly, should we head out?”

  She nodded and stood beside him. “Yeah. Thank you for dinner, you guys. Next time I’ll host and you guys can relax.”

  “That sounds like a great idea, babe.” Spencer kissed her. “What do you say, bro? We could watch the game next weekend and our ladies here could whip something up?”

  “I’m not into sports.”

  Spencer didn’t hide how unimpressed he was by that answer. He shook it off. “That’s alright, you’re a photographer after all,” he chuckled and McCoy remained mute.

  Carly took Spencer’s hand. “We should go, I’m getting tired.”

  “Hey Carly,” McCoy nodded to her.

&nb
sp; She cast him a glance as she and Spencer made their way to the hall to my front door. “Yes?”

  “If the two of you are watching some shitty game together, Spencer is more than capable of bringing you chips and dip while you put your feet up. He’s a real gentleman.”

  Carly pursed her lips and looked at her feet. Spencer wrapped an arm around her shoulders again and guided her out of the house while he shot angry stares back at McCoy. When my front door closed behind them I blew out an exasperated sigh.

  Chapter Three

  I turned around and looked at McCoy. I could tell that Spencer had left a bad impression on him. McCoy stood there looking at me intensely while I looked at him blankly for a few moments before the words came out of my mouth.

  “That whole night sucked.” I said

  “It sure did.” McCoy said with a stern look on his face.

  I tried to remain serious. “Do you think she got what you were trying to say?”

  He nodded. “Carly? Definitely. I think Spencer’s days are numbered. He’s a total ass.”

  “Definitely,” I muttered. “I don’t know what she could have possibly seen in him.”

  “Probably only what he wanted her to see. He has that way about him.”

  I frowned. “He sure didn’t seem like a fan of yours.”

  McCoy shrugged. “Don’t care. I’d be doing something wrong if a guy like him liked me.”

  “You said you thought you knew him?” I asked. “When they first got here. Did you remember where from?”

  McCoy shook his head. “No, I’m sure it will come to me, eventually. It usually does. I just can’t think where I’d meet a pompous little punk like him. I don’t really hang out with the crowds who, you know, wear polo shirts and khakis.”

  I laughed. “The outfit was a bit of a surprise.”

  “He sure wore those khakis proud though, I’ll give him that,” McCoy joked.

  “Not nearly as good as you dud in your jeans. I’ve been checking you out all night long.”

  “I will confess to doing the same thing. Checking you out, I mean, not myself. I mean I admire myself in everything with a reflective surface, but you can’t blame me for that.” He tugged the bottom of my skirt. “What do you say? Leave the dishes for me in the morning. Let’s go upstairs. Let me help you forget the evening.”

  I looked into his eyes. “It’s already forgotten.”

  “Then you don’t need me to distract you?” He released my skirt and wove around me. He locked the patio door and then the front door. He flicked out the lights on the bottom level of the house and stopped at the base of the stairs, turning to me. “You don’t want me to lay you down, nice and slow?”

  I bit my bottom lip.

  He shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

  I opened my mouth to begin teasing him when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared down at the number flashing across the screen.

  “I have to get this, I’ll be quick, alright?” He said.

  I nodded. “Sure, I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  He answered the phone and slipped out on to my back patio. He closed the door behind him. I made my way up the stairs and to my bathroom, where I brushed my teeth and took my makeup off. Then I stared at my reflection.

  My long brown hair was curled and pulled up in a high ponytail. I tugged the elastic out of my hair and let it cascade over my shoulders and down my back. McCoy loved when my hair was down. I sprayed myself with his favourite perfume.

  When I returned to the bedroom he was still downstairs. I shimmied out of my clothes and left them on the floor to put away in the morning. I rummaged through my panty drawer in search of something sexy that I could surprise McCoy with. I found a matching pair of blue lace panties and a bra that was entirely transparent.

  I heard McCoy lock the front door and then start making his way up the stairs. I hurried to the bedroom door and reached one hand up to the top right corner of the doorframe. I leaned against it and crossed one leg in front of the other. When he came to the top of the stairs his eyes soaked in the sight of me.

  “Took you long enough,” I purred, my free hand hooking a thumb in my panties and pulling them lower on one hip.

  “Sorry,” he said, his eyes resting on my hip.

  I straightened. “Is everything okay?”

  He looked up at me. “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just someone I haven’t talked to in a long time. They wanted to catch up.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Just an old buddy I grew up with. Nobody important.” He reached out a hand and touched my waist. “Nobody is important except for you.”

  He scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed, which he placed me on lightly. I could still feel his smile as he kissed me. He rained kisses down my chest and stomach and I buried my fingers in his thick black hair. I let him continue working his way down, down, until he settled between my legs and his dark eyes looked up at me. He liked to watch me. He pushed my panties aside.

  When his tongue touched me I rested my head back on my sheets. I stared at the ceiling for moments before my eyes closed. He brought me right back to the point I was at when he had me sitting on the kitchen counter. His tongue was tantalizing and exquisite and as he worked he ran his fingers lightly over the inside of my thighs and the backs of my knees. I quivered at his touch.

  He pulled me to the edge of the bed and stood. I watched him undo his jeans and shimmy them down. I touched myself as I waited for him. His eyes were burning with lust as he watched me. He tugged his shirt off over his head and I soaked up the sight of him.

  His shoulders were sculpted and gave way to arms decorated in veins and muscle. His chest was powerful and a trail of veins led down the center of his abs, around his belly button, and to his manhood, which was slowly pressing into me. I sighed with pleasure as he gripped my hips and held me to him as he stood at the edge of the bed.

  He worked his way towards a slow yet perfect rhythm that made my body sing. We finished together, both of us shuddering and clinging to each other breathlessly. He sank down on to the sheets beside me and closed his eyes as he lay on his back.

  I ran a finger along the stubble on his jaw. “I’m a lucky girl.”

  His eyes opened and he looked at me. I nearly become lost in their dark brown. He propped himself up on his elbows and I couldn’t help but look at the muscles on his stomach. “I’m a luckier man.”

  “Damn straight you are.”

  Chapter Four

  When I woke up I was alone. I was face down and sprawled across the bed with one leg hanging off of McCoy’s side. I lifted my face from my pillow and wiped some saliva from the corner of my mouth. I was always such a vision in the morning.

  I pushed myself up and clambered out of bed. My head felt foggy from the wine last night. I showered to try to scrub away the lingering feeling of the alcohol. It helped. I returned to my room and dressed in leggings and a sweater feeling refreshed and ready to conquer the day.

  The hardwood floor in my hallway and kitchen was cool beneath my feet and I hurried to make a cup of coffee.

  “McCoy?” I called, wondering where he had disappeared to. It was only nine in the morning. It was rare that he ever got out of bed before me, unless he intended on bringing me breakfast in bed- which was something I never imagined a man would ever want to do for me, let alone actually follow through with pancakes and bacon and a bowl of fruit.

  The house was silent and I felt instantly lonely. It was rare that we were ever apart, unless we were working. Perhaps he had ventured out to take photos. He did enjoy going out really early sometimes. He said the lighting was better, and the city felt different when half the place was still asleep.

  I was curled up under one of my gray blankets on the couch with my coffee when he came in through the front door. I listened to him drop something in the hallway and swear several times under his breat
h.

  When he emerged in the doorway he had a tray with two coffee cups in one hand. In the other was a brown paper bag. He looked at the coffee cup in my hand. “Fancy another one?”

  The coffee was from my favourite coffee shop a few blocks away. “Definitely,” I said, putting my mug down on the coffee table and taking my cup from him as he sat down on the other end of the couch.

  He handed me the brown bag. “I got you one of those cranberry white chocolate scones you like, too.

  “Oh, my God, you are the best.” I drew the scone out and took a bite. The chocolate melted as soon as it touched my tongue. “When did you leave this morning?”

  “Early. Six.”

  “Where’d you go?” He didn’t have his camera with him.

  “I met up with someone.”

  “Would that someone happen to be the same someone who called you last night?”

  “Yeah it was.” He wouldn’t look at me.

  I tucked my legs under myself and twisted so that I could face him. “Why the heck did they want you to meet them so early? Six on a Sunday?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, I just had to see them the one time. Now it’s done. How’s your scone?”

  I narrowed my eyes on him. He still wouldn’t meet my gaze. “What are you hiding from me?”

  “Nothing.” Finally he met my stare. It was fleeting; he looked back down at his coffee. “Have you heard from Carly at all? I’m curious if she sent Spencer packing last night or…”

  “Stop trying to change the subject,” I said.

  “Just forget about it, Veronica.” His tone was short. He didn’t want to have this conversation with me anymore. Usually I would let him win these kinds of things and just trust that he would tell me when he was ready. But this was different. For some reason, this felt heavier than most things.