Accidental Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance

by Sienna Ciles

  “You’re going to have to get off of me if you want me on top,” Emma pointed out, and I chuckled.

  “Give me two minutes,” I told her. “You still feel too good wrapped around me for me to give it up.” I was already starting to get hard again. I was more frustrated by my near-miss the day before than I had thought. But now I couldn’t even remember the name of the girl I’d gone at in the closet, much less what she’d looked like. Emma was soaking wet, making my fingers so slick I almost couldn’t keep them where they were supposed to be while I played with her, waiting to get fully hard before I pulled out.

  “I bet I can outlast you,” Emma told me with a challenging little smile.

  “How much do you want to put on that bet?”

  Emma considered for a moment and then grinned again, wickedly. “Five hundred,” she said.

  I laughed out loud. “You felt weird about taking the five hundred I offered you for a date, but not about scamming me for a thousand?”

  Emma raised her eyebrows and gave me a little, defiant look. “I don’t mind losing the five hundred I’ve got if I’m wrong,” she countered. That little devilish look was enough to get me fully hard, and I reluctantly pulled out of her, groaning as her wet heat left me. I pushed myself up and sat back on the couch, taking a breath. I was hard as a rock, as hard as I’d been before.

  “Let’s just see where we are after this,” I suggested. “Then we can talk about actual bets.”

  “All the blood rushing away from your brain?” Emma chuckled as she pulled herself up and eagerly moved to straddle me. I cupped her breasts in my hands and brought them up to my mouth, beginning to worship them again. In my mind, I could see the whole night play out: I was going to give her a “feast” of epic proportions, and I definitely wanted to try as many positions as possible.

  “Next, I want to bend you over my kitchen table and watch your face in the mirror while I pound you until you come so hard you scream,” I told her, pulling up from her breasts to kiss her lips.

  “Are we ever going to actually have sex in a bed tonight?”

  I grinned at her question. “When you’re ready for it to be the last time for the night. When you’re ready to call it quits, we’ll go at it one more time, and then we’ll be right where we need to be to go to sleep.”

  She reached down and guided me up against her slick folds, and I groaned as she sank down onto me slowly, inch by inch. “That sounds like a deal,” she said, and then she began to move.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emma

  I cringed a bit to myself as I started up the stairs to get to my apartment, feeling the ache in my thighs, the tenderness between my legs, all the myriad twinges and soreness from the long night I’d had. I didn’t regret the night, but I definitely regretted the fact that I had three or four flights of stairs to go up before I would get to my apartment. Worth it, I told myself, smiling a bit.

  Stefan had still been asleep when I’d woken up, about an hour before, and I’d spent about thirty minutes debating what to do. I could wait for him to wake up, and maybe see if he wanted to continue from where we’d left off the night before. But even apart from the fact that I wasn’t sure that my body could take another orgasm, much less the physical effort that went into making it happen, I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue things with him beyond what we’d had together.

  I’d taken the five hundred dollars out of my purse and left it on the coffee table, tucked halfway under the bouquet I’d delivered from his mom, and I’d managed to find my clothes and get them on, all without waking him up. And then—knowing that while I had his number, he didn’t have mine—I’d slipped out of his apartment as quietly as possible, hurrying down to the ground floor and getting a Lyft.

  I finally got up to my floor and saw that Gretchen was sitting in front of my door, waiting for me with the clothes she’d borrowed the night before in her lap. “I was wondering where the hell you were,” she said.

  I raised an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine you had a very good night if you’re here this early,” I said, taking my keys out of my purse. I let us in and, glancing at Gretchen, went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

  “I could say the same for you, except that you look like you had a pretty terrific night,” Gretchen teased.

  “Well, I guess you could say that getting off nine times is a terrific night,” I told her. I looked in time to see my best friend’s eyes widen.

  “Nine times? Wait, you hooked up with somebody? On Valentine’s Day?” I laughed and took mugs down from the cupboard and got the milk out of the fridge.

  “I did indeed,” I said.

  Gretchen sat down heavily at the kitchen table and stared at me. “Well? Are you going to give me the details or are you going to make me die of curiosity?”

  I laughed again; in spite of the aches and pains—and, I suspected, a few bruises here and there—I was feeling better than I had felt in years.

  “The cover model,” I said.

  Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said. “Just admit you got drunk at some club and found a hot guy.”

  “Nope,” I insisted. “He called the shop and was looking for me, ended up talking to Sabrina, and…” I shook my head. “Basically, it ended up with me pretending to be the girlfriend who dumped him so he wouldn’t lose face with his friends, and then at the end of the night…” I shrugged.

  “Nine times?” Gretchen shook her head in disbelief.

  “Yep,” I said. “We kept score.” I snickered, remembering how that had gone. Ginger had been right about one thing: it had been worth it if for no other reason than the story.

  “Well, if he was able to get you off nine times in one night, I say pretend to get pregnant and make him marry you, so you can keep that in your life for the next eighteen years,” Gretchen joked.

  I snorted and brought our coffees to the table. “Nah, I’m going to leave it a one-time thing,” I said. “I don’t think it would work out, anyway.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Gretchen stared at me frankly. “You find an actual romantic hero, and you’re going to chalk it up to a one-night stand?”

  “He’s not a romantic hero, he’s a cover model,” I said. “And he was nice and all, but I just don’t think it’s really worth it.”

  “Not worth it to make something happen with a guy who gets you off nine times?”

  “It was a fluke,” I told her. “Besides, sex isn’t everything.”

  “It’s a lot,” Gretchen countered. “Whatever. You’ll regret it later, and then I’ll get to hear all the juicy details when you’re mourning all the hot sex you could have had.”

  I plugged in my phone and turned it on; I’d shut it down once I’d gotten in the Lyft, since the battery was close to being dead. I already had text messages from Ginger and Sabrina, asking for details about how the rest of my night had gone. It was a pretty standard date. Dinner, drinks, talking, I told them both. I wasn’t about to admit to them how it had really gone down; I knew they’d be even more against me ending it there than Gretchen was.

  “How was your big Valentine’s date with David?” I listened as Gretchen talked about her date, realizing that for all I’d been pissed at her and Becky both for ditching me, I was actually kind of glad they had. If we’d ended up doing what we’d planned, it would have just been more or less any other ladies’ night. Instead, I’d had the best sex of my life for several hours before finally crashing and getting the best nap of my life. I was definitely going to need another nap before I did anything else that day.

  “So, all in all, I feel like things might actually work out with me and David,” Gretchen finished.

  “Sounds promising,” I agreed.

  Gretchen looked at me for a long moment. “Look, I’m really sorry that Becky and I both ditched you yesterday. I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with David if I’d known that Becky had already made plans.” I crossed my arms over my chest and felt a twinge of sensitivity in
my nipples.

  “I think you probably would have,” I countered, but there wasn’t any anger in my voice. “Ultimately, it worked out: I got a great dinner and drinks, and hot sex. But I do want us to make it a rule from here on out that if we make plans, we stick to them. Well, unless we’re sick or land ourselves in the hospital or something.” I grinned.

  “No ditching each other from here on out,” Gretchen agreed. She stuck out her hand, with her pinkie finger stuck up and the other four folded over her palm, and we turned it into a “pinkie-promise” before going back to our coffees.

  “Got anything going on today?”

  Gretchen yawned and nodded. “I actually need to leave for brunch in a bit,” she said, half-grimacing. “I promised some girls from work.”

  “Brunch sounds good,” I pointed out.

  “I wanted to make sure to come here first,” Gretchen told me. “Not just to give you back your dress, but, you know…”

  “To apologize for putting your man-ho before your she-bro?”

  Gretchen snickered. “Never again, I promise,” she said solemnly.

  “We’re good,” I reassured her.

  “You’re really not going to go out with him again?”

  I shrugged. “Why ruin the magic? If I date him, then it’ll just be a normal relationship,” I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste. “This way I had a magic, romance-novel night with a stranger and now I can just have that memory forever with nothing to taint it.”

  “You are entirely too cynical for someone who’s only had, what? Six or seven serious boyfriends in your life?” Gretchen wagged her finger at me.

  “I believe in quality over quantity,” I said haughtily. “Besides, most guys are going to end up disappointing you one way or another. I want to be selective about how my future husband—if he shows up—will disappoint me.”

  Bast climbed up into my lap purring, and I scratched her behind the ears.

  “Fine, fine,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “Becky is going to agree with me.”

  “And neither of you are living my life,” I pointed out. “So your agreement on what I should do means nothing to me.” I grinned, and we moved onto other topics until it was time for Gretchen to go home to get ready for brunch. I locked the door behind her and yawned, still exhausted in spite of the coffee.

  Bast followed me into my bedroom and curled up next to me as I sprawled out, feeling every muscle protest against my stretching. Images and memories from the night before flitted through my mind, putting acts to each twinge of soreness. I was pretty sure I had a bruise on one of my ankles from how hard Stefan had held it above his head while he plowed into me, but that was nothing a pair of socks couldn’t cover up until it healed. We had gone at it on probably every horizontal surface in his apartment: the couch, the kitchen table, the coffee table, one of the chairs, and we’d even managed to make it happen in the shower a couple of times before we’d both been so exhausted that we were ready to call it a night and finish in the bed.

  Stefan had been true to his word: he had been ready every moment I had been, which had surprised me a bit. I’d never been with a guy who could actually keep up with my appetite, just a lot of guys who liked to talk, who would go on to make me feel bad when I wanted more sex after they’d finished once or twice. I thought about Gretchen’s scolding, and even though I wanted to stick to my idea of keeping it to one night, I couldn’t help but remember that I did have Stefan’s phone number. Don’t do it. He’ll just disappoint you in the long run. But in spite of that I found myself getting out of bed, walking into my living room, and looking at the receipt he’d scrawled his number on. Why I hadn’t thrown it away the night he’d given it to me, I wasn’t sure.

  I debated back and forth for what felt like ages; it had been four hours since I’d slipped out of his apartment as quietly as I could, and objectively, I had to think that he probably would have been just as happy to keep it to a one-night fling as I was. I could keep it as one of the best memories I had, or I could tempt fate and call him.

  “God, just call him, Em,” I told myself, shaking my head. “Worst-case scenario, he tells you it was great but he’s just not looking for anything serious.”

  I unplugged my phone from the charger, brought it back to the couch, and dialed the number that Stefan had given me. I had a panicked moment where—paranoid—I thought he might have given me a fake number; but hadn’t he called the shop, looking for me? Obviously, he’d been interested enough to follow up somehow. He wouldn’t have given me a fake number. And just as I’d reached that conclusion, the call went straight to voicemail.

  “You’ve reached Stefan Doss…” I listened to it and debated whether or not to leave a message. It went straight to voicemail, so I had to figure that he’d forgotten to plug his phone in the night before and it had died, like mine almost had.

  I hung up before the automated message telling me how to leave a voicemail for him ended, and set my phone aside. Just as well. I’d indulged the temptation, and now it was past me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stefan

  “Show me where you want my hands,” I said to the blonde draped over my arm, staring down into her green eyes. She giggled a bit and shifted against me. She’s actually pretty hot, I thought, holding her gaze. Not as hot as Emma, but not bad at all. Of course, she’d have to be beautiful.

  “Wherever you need them to be, handsome,” she replied, wiggling her eyebrows up and down for a moment. I chuckled and shifted, leaning in to almost bring my lips down on hers. I had to be careful; the sand under my feet made it hard to keep upright, and that was especially difficult holding her like I was. Don’t get too creative with it, but you know your back looks great. Work that angle. Maybe move your leg up a bit, hike up her skirt.

  “You look stunning,” I told her, moving so that my lips were right next to her ear. I could feel the beginnings of a bit of strain across my shoulders, but it wasn’t bad enough to need to change positions. I leaned in closer to her face, feeling the warmth of the sun on my back, hearing the ocean crashing onto the beach we stood on a few yards away from us.

  “That’s the shot!” I held my position for as long as I could, waiting for the telltale sounds: the shutter clicks, the sound of the lamps flashing.

  I’d barely made it to the flight to get to my shoot on time, the morning after Valentine’s Day. At first, I’d been worried that Emma had apparently left without saying goodbye and had left the five hundred dollars I’d paid her for the date itself behind as well, but then I’d been in too much of a hurry to get what I would need packed and get out the door.

  “Okay, we got it,” the photographer said. “Change positions!”

  I pulled Lucy up onto her feet fully and took advantage of the brief break between shots to stretch my neck a bit and shake out the tension in the arm she’d been draped over.

  “Do you need a break, Stefan?”

  I shook my head in response to Katie, the AD for the shoot. “I’m fine.”

  I was; but I was definitely feeling the effects of being up most of the night before, even if the sex had been more than worth it. If I’d spent the night before Valentine’s Day with blue balls, the day after Valentine’s Day had me feeling as though I might never be capable of feeling that horrible lack of fulfillment again. It had been a near thing, but I’d kept up with Emma the whole time.

  “Another coffee, maybe? You look tired,” Katie said. I rolled my eyes. “Stefan! You’re normally such a pro at this.”

  “I don’t know why you’re worried about my face; no one ever sees it,” I pointed out.

  Katie, Lucy, the photographer Natasha, and the few assistants hanging around the set all laughed.

  “That’s true, but I still don’t like you looking this tired,” Katie said.

  “I’m fine,” I told her. “Let’s get this next shot.” The next one on the list required me to be on top of Lucy, in the sand, pretending to make love to her, or at least, pretendin
g to be about to make love to her. We got into position, and I rolled my head around, cracking my neck as I shifted to make the most of the blocking. The whole point of the concept was that Lucy’s face would be visible, reacting to me, but my face would be a mystery; my body was the fantasy they wanted to portray. That way, the shots could be used for any number of covers, since there wouldn’t be specific facial features or eye color or anything like that for people to get caught up in.

  We got that shot, and then another, and finally, it was time for a break. I grabbed the seat that I’d been assigned to catch a few minutes of rest, pulling my phone out of my bag. It was dead. “Shit.” I hadn’t plugged in my phone the night before, and when I’d gotten up, I’d been in such a rush to get ready to go to the airport that I hadn’t double-checked to make sure that my charger was in my bag. I looked for it, pulling almost everything out, but no luck. “Anyone have a charger for a Samsung?”

  “No, sorry,” Natasha said, fixing herself a cup of coffee.

  “Sorry,” Lucy echoed. “We’ve both got iPhones.”

  “I’ve got a Sony,” Katie told me apologetically.

  I groaned. It was going to be a long day, if I couldn’t even listen to music or do anything on my phone during the few breaks there were. Lucy sat down and helped herself to some of the fruit salad the crew had put out for us to eat between takes, and I thought about doing the same.

  “You know, I actually got recognized the other day,” Lucy said.

  I grinned. “Was it by a woman or a man?”

  “A guy, actually,” Lucy said. “But only because his girlfriend is a romance novel fiend. She had a book that I’d been on the cover of, and apparently, read it two or three times. He asked if he could get a picture of me to send to her.”