Play Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  That alone sparks an intense need to share this space with her. Nova Chester isn’t just some chick. She knows me so well. She cares about me.

  She’s safe.

  I catch her lips with mine as I move around the side of the bed. Folding forward, I lay her in the center of the mattress. God, she’s so beautiful spread out naked on my bed. My eyes gallivant across the stretch of her body. Every part of it is perfect—soft and curvy and golden brown.

  I kiss her again as my fingers hook on the elastic of her panties. Just as I’m about to slide them down her legs, she breaks the kiss and stops me with a hand on my wrist. “Charlie, wait.”

  Oh fuck. She’s about to back out. And that’s the absolute last thing I want right now.

  Faces merely inches apart, she looks up at me with a predatory glint in her wide eyes. “What’s your safe word?”

  Taken aback, I stumble a few steps away. “What?”

  She drops her cheek against the comforter and breaks out laughing, thoroughly amused by my dumbfounded gaze. She’s laughing so hard, she can’t even breathe. “You should see your face right now,” she chokes out.

  Such a fucking troublemaker. I’m done playing games with her.

  I grab her by the hips and yank her to the edge of the bed. “You think you’re funny, huh? A fucking comedian.”

  One firm tug on the lace of her panties and it tears apart in my hand. The smile falls from her face.

  “Play time is over, honey.”

  Her eyes are on me, shining with lust and wanting. She knows how sexy she looks right now. She knows that I’m barely able to contain my want for her.

  “Spread those thighs for me.”

  Her taunting smile is back on those lips. “And what’ll I get in return?”

  I drop to my knees and wrap my fingers around her ankles. I pull her to the edge of the bed. “I said, spread those fucking thighs, Nova.” She shivers at the low grit of my voice. I feel a cocky grin inch across my face at her quiet whimper and the eager opening of her legs. She’s so pretty there, glistening pink flesh, pulsing and dripping for me.

  Kissing a trail down her thigh, I brush a finger over her wet folds. Her breath catches and her body freezes on contact. “Oh…” The word flutters out of her mouth as my thumb circles her clit.

  Bending closer, I slide a pair of fingers inside and her hot flesh closes around me, sucking me in, so greedy, so hungry. When my lips meet her clit, her spine curves ever so slightly and her hands come down, searching for my hair, clawing at the sheets.

  I lap at her, suddenly ravenous, I can’t get enough of her taste. Honey on my tongue, dripping down my chin. I jam my fingers into her, harder, faster and she groans. When I look up, her eyes are on me, her jaw hanging as she pants hard through her mouth. The expression is so damn raw. It awakens the reckless deviant inside of me, the pleasure chaser.

  Burying my face at her core, renewed fervor scorches my senses. I lay my palm on her pelvis, pressing down as I thrust my tongue into her core. Hard, fast lashes into her flesh while my thumb flicks back and forth on her throbbing clit. She’s crying now, nonsense words pitching out of her lungs. A mix of begging and praying. Her thighs clamp down on my cheeks as she rocks against my mouth.

  When she comes, I feel the aftershocks of the explosion rolling against my tongue. Her body is still shaking as I rise to my feet and look down at her. She’s a quivering mess.

  My cock is leaking precum, so hard for her. I run the back of my hand over my lips but I can’t wipe away my grin. An indescribable rush of depraved gratification pours into my chest.

  I just made my best friend come on my tongue. Now, I’m going to make her come on my cock.

  Chapter 18

  Nova

  Holy crap bucket! So that just happened.

  My body is still tingling all over and my thoughts feel like they’re made of cotton.

  Charlie is at the foot of the bed, watching me with a wolfish gaze that makes my entire body throb for him. His fingers hook into the waistband of his pants and he pushes the fabric down to his feet.

  Am I still drunk? Or is it an optical illusion? There's no way a cock that big is real.

  Thick, long and proud, it dangles between his legs. What was that declaration I made about not being another notch on his bedpost?

  Right about now, I’d be a notch. I’d gladly be a notch.

  For a cock like that, pass me the carving knife—I’ll make the damn notch myself.

  His eyes examine every inch of my skin, perusing every curve and valley. His gaze is dark, ravenous, scorching its way through my epidermis.

  He smiles and climbs onto the bed, crawling up from the foot until he's hovering over me. "Now, where were we?" His face disappears into the curve of my neck and I feel the heat of his breath on my skin. His fingers stroke my cheek tenderly. "You're so pretty, Nova..." And now we're kissing again.

  The throbbing between my legs comes roaring back to life, urgent and insistent, demanding relief. His fingers fan along my ribs as he kisses a wet path down my throat to my collarbone and between the valley of my breasts. His tongue rolls over the pointed tips of my nipples before he continues his trail of exploration back up to my lips.

  My eyes flutter shut when his hand falls between my thighs. I’m so very sensitive right now, still raw from the way he explored me with his fingers and his tongue. I sigh and drop my cheek to the pillow.

  He reaches into his bedside drawer for a condom. He wastes no time rolling it on. My heart races faster.

  Being with him this way feels amazing, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the scariest thing I’ve done in a long time.

  “Charlie?” His eyes move to mine.

  We shouldn’t do this. We should stop.

  He breathes against my throat. “I know…”

  We both know. This is wrong.

  Still, the crevice between my thighs aches to be filled by him. I swallow hard, I’m trembling. My body so eager, so desperate. I reach down between his thighs and flick the tip of my thumb over his swollen crown. He shivers.

  “Look what you’re doing to me, Nova.” His voice is low and strained. “Look how hard you’re making me.”

  One big hand curls in the pillow by my head. With the other hand, he grips his long, hard erection and presses it inside of me.

  A hard puff of air leaves my lungs. The fit is tight. The stretch, an exquisite burn. My eyes are fixed to the space where his body joins with mine, moving in and out in long, smooth thrusts. "Charlie..."

  My body goes tense as I wonder if this will change the way he thinks of me. I don't want to lose my friend. I don't want our relationship to change. I don't—

  I feel his touch on my chin. He tilts my face up to his. Our eyes meet and I shiver, struck yet again by how savagely beautiful this man is, by the raw intensity of his lust. His face dips. "You're thinking too much...Just feel."

  Just feel...

  Drawing in a deep breath, I close my eyes, fall back against the pillow. I give up control, entrust my pleasure to this man. I let go of all thought, submitting my body to his.

  He's moving faster now, his thrusts accelerating, growing vulgar, hitting painfully deep. My eyes press shut. And I'm so wet for him. My body's so ready. Feels like it's been preparing for this moment for a long time.

  Rough, urgent movements. Hoarse, throaty sighs. Eager, pulsing bodies, colliding again and again.

  His fingers curl into my hips for leverage, gripping me in place as his thrusts gain strength. Each powerful drive of his hips nudges me closer to the headboard, closer to an explosion that I know will be unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  He grabs me face, cupping my cheek in one hand. "Look at me," he growls, low and needy. "Open your eyes and look at me."

  My eyelids flutter open and the force of his lust hits me straight in the chest. The ferocious hunger, the tenacious restraint.

  "Charlie...So close..." My breathless whisper barely rises above the s
ounds of his heavy breathing and the wet slap of his pelvis against mine. His hand moves to my knee, pushing it up high until my foot is flat on the bed, my heel nearly resting against my ass. That changes the angle. He's so deep now. So deep.

  Something unleashes inside me.

  And suddenly, I'm right at the edge. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer so that his lips are nearly touching mine.

  "Oh god. More."

  His fingernails gouge the flesh of my hips as he ruts, moving frantically between my legs.

  "Yes, Charlie."

  His hard breaths flicker over my face.

  "Don't stop!"

  He rears back and with one hard curl of his hips, he slams into me and hits a magical spot so deep, so sensitive that up until now it had only been folklore.

  I roar like a savage-thing as my body implodes, a radiating pleasure engulfing each of my senses. Victory flashes across his features, but it's short-lived because soon, he's falling, too. Groaning, face buried at my neck. Tense and shaking as his cock spasms in the clutch of my pulsing channel.

  "Dammit, Nova. Dammit." He pounds me again and again as he comes hard, drawing it out for a long time.

  He collapses on the bed next to me, jagged breaths and pounding heart. His head falls to the side and he smiles at me, a subtle curving of his lips against the backdrop of the moonlight.

  In the afterglow of sex, ‘handsome’ doesn't quite do him justice. I can see now why so many women have become addicted to Charlie Hartley.

  Feels so good. Too good.

  A spear of panic rises through the pleasure shooting down my limbs.

  It’s too good.

  Chapter 19

  Charlie

  A loud bang wakes me up the next morning.

  In my guilty hungover fog, I fully expect my house to be the scene of a post-apocalyptic, dystopian horror when my eyes open—anti-social zombies enjoying cereal at my kitchen table while flipping through my stash of dirty magazines. Alcoholic vampires riffling through my liquor cabinet as the burgers cook on the grill. A pack of vicious werewolves having an orgy in my bathtub with that fruity gel stuff my mom gave me for Christmas.

  Perfectly logical expectations. Isn't that what happens when a man sleeps with his best friend?

  When I blink open, I see that my expectations weren't that far removed from reality. A broken lamp in the corner of the room. Dirty clothes littered all about the floor. A glittery barefoot creature with a golden lion's mane stalking across my front lawn.

  Seriously, Nova?

  Jumping out of bed, I stumble into a pair of sweatpants and bolt for the front door. By the time I swing the door open, she standing on the edge of my property with her shoes in hand, head pivoting from left to right as she tries to work out her next move.

  She chances a peek over her shoulder and sees me there, watching her. She cringes hard.

  With my arms folded across my chest, I lean a shoulder on the doorframe and smirk. “Good morning…”

  “Oh hey, Charlie. How ya doing? I was just about to—"

  “—do the barefoot walk-of-shame across town in an evening gown at the break of dawn?”

  Her shoulders slump on a heavy, rough exhale. “What do you expect me to do, Charlie?”

  I give her an incredulous look. “I expect you to not runaway. Because we’re friends.”

  Her eyes press shut and she purses her lips as if summoning her inner strength.

  This doesn’t have to be complicated.

  “I’m humiliated, Charlie…” Her voice is so soft, her eyes on her feet.

  I tromp down the stairs, meeting her at the edge of the yard. “What’s there to be humiliated about?”

  “You saw my ‘O’ face.”

  I can’t help the guffaw that pelts out of my mouth. “What?!”

  “This isn’t funny.” But she’s cracking up, too. “I can’t even look you in the eye.”

  Leaning forward, I brush a coily strand of hair from her forehead. “So let me get this straight—you’d rather limp five miles back to your house at 6:15 on a Monday morning, looking sleep-deprived and freshly-fucked than have a simple conversation with your friend—me. That makes sense to you?”

  “You’re not taking this seriously.” She pouts. “I’m leaving.” She turns toward the road.

  My fingers go around her wrist and I give her a soft tug. "Can you please come inside so we can talk about this? Like non-lunatics? My neighbors are watching." I jut my chin in the direction of old Mrs. Reynold’s fluttering kitchen curtains across the street.

  Nova’s eyes follow mine. “Goddammit!” she mutters as she stomps up the path to my front door. I bite down on my smile as I follow after her.

  When we step into the kitchen, Nova takes a seat at the island. She sits there awkwardly playing with her battery-drained phone as I make two cups of coffee. Hers with two heaping scoops of sugar and light on the milk. Mine with a health splash of milk and no sugar. I set her java in front of her and she thanks me quietly, taking a tiny sip. I watch a little bit of the tension melt out of her shoulders as the caffeine hits.

  I sink into the seat next to her. She doesn’t look at me. She refuses to lift her eyes from the countertop.

  Shit.

  I’ve dealt with all kinds of crazy stuff happening the morning after—a previously-undisclosed husband showing up early from his business trip, an overprotective father bursting into the room wielding a baseball bat, I even once woke up bound to a four-post bed while a Japanese foreign exchange student used my morning wood to scoop peanut butter from the bottom of the jar (Yes…it’s that big…)—but this isn’t my typical morning-after scenario. Because the girl sitting at the other end of the counter looking flushed and beautiful and awkward is Nova. My best friend. She looks ashamed and defeated, full of self-loathing and regret. Cycling through the five stages of grief at an alarming rate.

  I have to fix this.

  “So, last night we just had a little too much to drink,” I begin and she nods exuberantly without lifting her head. “And that led to a bit of a lapse in judgment. We did something stupid.” I manage to say it in a confident voice despite the confusion rioting in my brain cells.

  “Yes, very stupid,” she agrees.

  “So, let’s just go back to normal. The way we were before. Simple.”

  Simple.

  But not easy.

  Because now, the taste of her skin is memorized by my tongue and the sound of her moans is on replay in my brain. My hands are twitching to trail the hot, wet place between her thighs. How am I supposed to forget that?

  She seems hesitant, skeptical. I don’t blame her. Not even I buy the crap I’m selling…but I’m selling it anyway. “It was just sex, Nova. No need to ruin our friendship over it.”

  “Yeah, let’s forget it ever happened. No need to ruin our friendship over a mistake.”

  I cock a brow. “I never said it was a mistake…”

  “Charlie…” Her tone is admonishing but I hold her gaze unapologetically. She rolls her eyes. “Let’s go back to normal. Just as long as things don’t get weird between us. Okay?”

  I chuff. “Just as long as you don’t run out of here barefoot at the break of dawn next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  “Are you sure about that? I seem to recall you begging for a repeat after each of your four orgasms last night.”

  She growls, frustrated and amused both at once. “You are not going to keep reminding me of last night. We bury last night. Right now. Once and for all. Never mention it again.” She slaps me on the shoulder. We both feel that electric sizzle.

  Her eyes linger on my bare chest as it fills with male pride, puffing out like a marshmallow over a campfire.

  “Fine. There’s no next time,” I tell her.

  She sighs with relief. “Good.” Her gaze comes to mine, questioning and worried. “You aren’t gonna mention this to Reese, are you?” I can practically hear the guilt in every
cracked note of her voice. “I don’t want things to get weird with me and her.”

  “Nova—I won’t tell Reese. This stays between us.”

  It’s not that I can’t handle Reese and her judgment. It’s Nova I’m concerned about. The look on her face tells me that she feels terrible about betraying her friend.

  She picks up her coffee in both hands and breathes out, relieved. “Thank you.”