Boyfrenemy

by Sosie Frost

  I hid my smile. “One chicken?”

  “No barn.”

  Right. “So why is your sister so optimistic?”

  “Cause she’s the only one getting laid in the family.”

  Christ, I could relate. “Sorry, cowboy. Can’t help you there.”

  “You’re not helping me at all, princess.”

  “My heart is breaking for you,” I said. “I put in the extra effort. You’re the one who screwed it up.”

  He disagreed with a snort. “You won’t take my calls. Won’t answer my emails.”

  And I was trying so damned hard to forget the bastard even existed. His constant calls, and the town’s obsession with the Paynes, made him impossible to ignore. Especially last night when I woke too early from an unsatisfying dream with his name on my lips and my hand in my panties.

  I straightened in the chair, assuming an authority he’d ultimately question. “Our business was concluded.”

  “When?”

  “When you called me a whore to my face.” I stood and gestured him to the door, hoping he’d take the not-so-subtle hint.

  Julian didn’t move. “You still mad about that?”

  “Still mad that I took a chance to talk to a charming farmer at the bar? Still mad that I thought I could open up about my job and responsibilities and problems to a sympathetic listener? Still mad that that only man in this town who cared enough to talk about my profession assumed that I was selling my body?” I crossed my arms. “Yeah. I’m still mad.”

  Julian didn’t apologize. “Take it as a compliment.”

  “Being a whore?”

  “That you’re so goddamned beautiful that just sitting at a bar you exude sex.”

  I pointed to the door. “Get out of my office.”

  Julian grinned. “Maybe I should roll you around in the mud again. Might loosen you up.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You wanna walk around this town with a stick up your ass, then you better watch for splinters.” He winked. “Or ask around for something better to sit on.”

  The insults kept coming. “You have no right to speak to me like that.”

  “You want a pain in the ass, beautiful? Fine. You’ve only got yourself to blame.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Means you’re the only one preventing me from getting what I want.”

  Great. A head as hard as his cock. “Sure, it’s my fault that three years ago the municipality passed an ordinance codifying the building and zoning regulations. I’m just enforcing the rules. Don’t shoot the messenger.” I scowled. “Don’t flirt with her either.”

  Julian hummed as he stepped a little too close. “I’ll make it easy for you. I want my barn.”

  “And I want an alt-rock band to play at the county fair, but guess what? We’re both getting Bupkis.”

  He frowned, confused. I sighed.

  “That’s a polka band that plays every year,” I said. “Point is, there’s nothing I can do for you. We’re both screwed.”

  He met my gaze. “Maybe that’s just what you need.”

  Oh, hell no. I must not have heard him correctly. “What?”

  His eyebrow waggle was entirely inappropriate. “Know what your problem is, princess?”

  “Right now, it’s you.”

  “You’re strutting around this office on a power trip.”

  No, I was strutting around the office on a pair of four-inch heels that would make my toes bleed by the end of the monthly meeting. “I think you’ve been in the sun too long, cowboy.”

  “And you’ve been inside this building for too long, thinking you’re hot shit just because you have the authority to sign off on a little paper that determines a man’s livelihood.”

  “You can assume what you want about me, but I’m adhering to the legal regulations.”

  “A girl like you always follows the rules, huh?”

  I gritted my teeth. “That’s my job.”

  “Day in and day out. Following the rules. Playing it safe. Living by…what was it? A defined life plan?” He actually laughed at me. “You’re so fucking stiff I should toss some ice cubes down your shirt and serve you in a tumbler.”

  “Very funny.”

  “You have a sense of humor?”

  “When appropriate.”

  “Well, you either find it hilarious to deny me my application—”

  I interrupted him with a nod. “—It’s getting that way—”

  “Or you get some other delight out of it.”

  I huffed. “Like what?

  “You like the power. The control. You’re getting off on rejecting these applications…” His glance over my curves struck me like a spank. “If you get off at all.”

  This conversation was over. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll get off the instant you get out.”

  “That eager, huh?” His voice warmed with a laugh. “Been that long?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your secret will be safe with me, princess. How long’s it been?”

  I crossed my arms. “Since what?”

  “Since the Queen of Sawyer County authorized herself to get laid by a mason?” Julian’s green eyes flashed impish. “Nailed by a carpenter?”

  “You’re such a—”

  “When did you last get those pipes cleared by a plumber?”

  How dare he?

  Of all the abrasive, inappropriate, vulgar things to ask.

  I expected nothing less from a bastard like Julian Payne, but was civil discourse so offensive to this man that he had to reduce every conversation to sex?

  “I am not answering that.” Could he even hear me through my gritted teeth? “Ever.”

  His laugh rolled over me, hot and heavy. “That long, huh?”

  “It makes absolutely no difference to your application.”

  “Makes all the difference.” He faced me, leaning against my desk as if I’d invited his ass to plunk down in the middle of my life. “Don’t hate the world cause you’re not getting any.”

  The prick. “And you’re such a Casanova?”

  “No one’s complained.”

  “And how many of Butterpond’s finest have you bedded, cowboy?”

  “Not nearly enough to warrant that sort of hostility.” He shrugged. “I have discriminating tastes.”

  “Yeah, right.” I narrowed my eyes. “Probably hard to roll in the hay when you’ve got no barn.”

  He had no reason to brag, yet he did. “I make do.”

  “Your hand doesn’t count.”

  “Neither does your showerhead, princess.”

  I seethed. “Like you know anything about pleasuring a woman.”

  He grinned. “Like you’ve ever been properly pleasured.”

  Asshole.

  My chest tightened, but I accidentally broke the stare first.

  Who the hell was this man to think he could barge into my office, insult my appearance, my lifestyle, my lovelife, and then expect me to do him a favor?

  Julian Payne was a giant dick with no foreplay.

  And he could kiss my ass.

  I should have called security. Should have kicked him out myself—my foot, his balls, and all of Butterpond lining up for the monthly meeting to see it.

  Instead, I thrust a finger into his chest and poked. Hard. “You know what I think?”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “You’re damn right I am,” I said. “I will not be lectured by some home-grown, down-on-the-farm, one-dimpled pain in the ass who thinks he knows anything about my personal life.”

  “Ouch.”

  “That excess of testosterone must come from somewhere,” I said. “And I’m willing to bet it’s an empty bed at night.”

  “That so?” he asked.

  “I can’t imagine any woman dumb enough to share your sheets.”

  “I don’t like my women dumb. But I also don’t like mouthy little brats who think a fancy office with a window entitles t
hem to their mismanaged authority.”

  And I was done with the jerk. “You’re not as cute as you think you are, Mr. Payne. You can’t waltz in here and demand whatever your wizened little heart desires because you’ve got a good smile and a farmer’s tan.”

  This wasn’t a man whose vanity allowed him to be insulted. He held my stare as he yanked his t-shirt up over his pecs. That made it entirely too difficult to peek at his rippling chest and golden tan.

  “No farmer’s tan here. The shirt comes off when I sweat. I’d demonstrate, but I doubt you could contain your lust.”

  I laughed. “Oh, so now I’m worthy of the Julian Payne Sextravangza?”

  “Hell no. You’re a pain in the ass little ice princess who should’ve gotten laid ages ago, before you froze yourself inside that shell.”

  Like he knew anything about me.

  Or how long it’d been since I’d scheduled time for physical intimacy.

  Or any intimacy.

  “This shell doesn’t crack for just any man,” I said.

  “Just gotta bite hard, princess.”

  I dared to approach him, regretting the dizzying breath that enveloped me in his scent. He smelled golden, like sunshine and fresh leaves and the heat of a body warmed by hard work. The deliciousness twisted in my chest.

  He looked that good, smelled that good…

  Would he taste that good?

  I sputtered over my words. “You couldn’t handle me, cowboy. Don’t even think about it.”

  His smirk lashed through me. “I’d break you in half.”

  “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

  “Neither would you.”

  And now I knew he was lying. “Little cocky, aren’t you?”

  “Nothing little about it.”

  He stepped forward, invading any pretense of personal space and forcing me to look up to see him.

  Every inch of him. Solid muscle. Unrepentant arrogance.

  Core-clenching seductiveness.

  My mouth dried. “You’re so full of it.”

  “Maybe I should fill you up too.”

  His voice had darkened to a heated promise, but I tasted the mockery. Indignity choked me with rage and insult, and yet my hands trembled with something far more thrilling than simply slapping the bastard across the cheek like he deserved. The furious heat tangled deep inside me.

  Binding me. Enraging me. Aching in me.

  Why did this man fluster me so badly? How was he able to destroy every professional defense I’d woven around myself? Decorum. Authority. Neutrality.

  Even worse, I was fighting with him in my office. He’d exposed me, enraged me, and bubbled me into a molten core of disrespect, retaliation, and something far worse.

  Desire.

  “And then what?” I asked. “Go ahead. Stuff me. Then what, cowboy?”

  Julian wasn’t a man to tease. Or challenge. “I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget your name, your job, why you’re here, what you’re doing, and why you ever fought to deny me anything I’d want.”

  Nothing had ever sounded so utterly vulgar.

  Or so goddamned enthralling.

  “You want the barn that badly?” I asked.

  His expression darkened, intense and confident. “No. Now I want something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You. Moaning my name with your legs spread.”

  “Just cause you’re cocky doesn’t mean the equipment is impressive.”

  Julian called my bluff. “All you gotta do is ask, princess. I’ll fuck the fun into you.”

  “Asshole.”

  “We can try it there.”

  Why did that excite me? “You’re such a bastard.”

  “How wet are you right now?”

  “And how hard are you?”

  “Why don’t you give it a tug. Tell me what you think?”

  “I think you should leave.”

  “Liar,” he said.

  Fury roared through me, superheated and shivering. “Jerk.”

  He smirked. “Priss.”

  “Prick.”

  “Brat.”

  “Pain in the ass.”

  Julian encroached, his whisper a dark and delicious warning. “Wannabe whore.”

  I saw red.

  And heat.

  And rage.

  And a wall of muscle strengthened by sex, desire, and ferocity.

  I leapt forward, arm outstretched to slap him across his chiseled jaw. He trapped my wrist before I grazed the roughened scruff of his cheek.

  How many mistakes could I make in a single heartbeat?

  Just one, and it’d be the worst of my life.

  Did I collapse into him, or did Julian pull me into his embrace?

  Did it matter?

  Our bodies locked together in a sudden fury. Arms tangled. Chests melded.

  And lips…

  Parted. Opened. Panting.

  I launched onto my tip-toes and groaned into his kiss.

  I hated this man—this cocky, self-serving, arrogant beast of a man who spoke vulgarities and kissed like divine lust. My fingers curled into his shirt, stretching at the white cotton, grinding against the hard muscle beneath my hands.

  I’d never wanted a man more.

  Never wanted to be rid of him more.

  Never wanted to feel anyone closer, hotter, deeper.

  The crazed heat scorched through me, surging from my fingertips to my toes and striking every neglected part in between. I nibbled on his bottom lip, a warning bite more to myself as a desperate whimper humiliated me.

  Julian gripped me hard, spinning me away from my desk and walking me backwards, a kiss for each step, until my back struck against my office wall. A dozen files fell from the cabinet, the papers fluttering at our feet. I ignored them, gripping his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

  I’d never been kissed so roughly. Every swipe of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands along my curves was a dire warning of passion and desire.

  Julian Payne didn’t fuck around, he just fucked. Rough and demanding. Crazed. His body hardened in every delightful way under my fingers. He clawed at my skirt, tugging it higher and pawing at my dark skin beneath. The heat from his fingers teased my curves with sharp agony. I wiggled, desperate to shift the dreadful panties away from the slickening part of me so eager for his touch.

  And yet…

  I thunked my hand against the light switch. My office plunged into darkness.

  Julian’s grunt shivered through me. “No lights?”

  “It’s a meeting night. No sense giving a show to anyone who wanders by.”

  His rasping breathing preceded another harsh kiss. “What if I wanted to look at you?”

  I was many things, but forgiving wasn’t one of them. “Think I’d give you that privilege?”

  “So I can fuck you, but I can’t see you?”

  “Lucky I’m even facing you.” I nipped his lip. “Kissing you.” I welcomed the slice of his tongue. “Humoring you.”

  “You act like you don’t want this.”

  “You act like you deserve it.”

  His frown mixed indignation and lust. “I’ll have you screaming my name.”

  I smirked. “And I’ll forget you by morning.”

  “Then I better make sure you remember who I am.”

  “A bastard?”

  “A bastard who will make you come harder than you thought possible…”

  Julian dropped to his knees. My skirt jerked up, panties ripped down, and he dove between my legs. In the darkness, his shadow moved close, forcing my legs apart and gripping my hips.

  “You better hold on, princess. You’re gonna get a little dirty again.”

  My shudder betrayed me.

  So did my slit. My wetness. The breathy, lip-biting groan that whimpered from my throat.

  I’d never done anything so reckless, so unbelievably erotic in my life. And I’d certainly never had a man like Julian before.

  Though I sho
uld’ve been proud to be so discerning. What sort of man knew how to please a woman like this?

  His tongue flicked over my most sensitive and damning of places. Up and down. Side to side. In and out. Every swipe drew another shaking breath from my lips. Every little nibble of my silky petals tightened that trouble-making core that would have me humiliate myself in front of this man.

  Worse.

  On this man.

  The intensity coiled inside me. Tight and wanting and relentless in his constant, unwavering licks to my clit. I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to push him away as the constant pressure pounded me. Harder. Faster. Hotter.

  He slurped. Terrible, embarrassing, degrading noises that only wetted me more. The slickened sounds echoed his harsh growls. This man feasted on me. One solid lick and grunt before he buried his face in my slit and crashed me against the wall.

  Christ, what if someone had heard?

  Seen?

  Walked in.

  The municipal center would be filling with people, all eager to witness the bloodbath. I was supposed to be setting up my spot on the dais. Handing out papers. Doing my job.

  Instead my knees were weak, legs spread, and I was one suckle of my clit away from orgasming on a stranger’s face.

  No. Not a stranger. God, I’d have some dignity left if this man were still a stranger.

  Julian Payne was a prick. An asshole. Hell, every terrible part of the body and worse. But he was also the only man in the world who understood how to use a tongue like a cock and stroke me to dizzying heights.

  But the bastard was better than I’d expected. Sexier than I’d hoped. And that meant the crushing orgasm would be every bit a proclamation of war as it would be the greatest pleasure of my life.

  Julian chuckled, teased my clit with a flat-tongued lick, and pulled away just before I crested that desire. He waited on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  I nearly crumbled, my breath short. “You’re a real son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

  “You better ask for it, princess.”

  Hell no. “You better beg me, Cowboy.”

  “I don’t need it that bad.”

  The monstrous bulge in his pants said otherwise. “Me either.”

  “Yes, you do.” Julian stood, his body a wall of muscle that I longed to taste. “You’re squirming. Aching. Tell me how much you need me or it stops now. Bet you’d hate that.”

  “I’m used to disappointment—I work for the government.”