The Super: A Bad Boy Romance

by Connor, Anne

  “So, what, we date for a little while? Six months? A year? It’s not like we are going to be together, so why not just skip all the pain and get to the inevitable?”

  “I understand that you don’t want to get hurt again. But you have to take a chance. This isn’t like you. What happened to the tough-as-nails bitch that I know? Think about it. You got this awesome job, you got this apartment, you graduated with honors from one of the best journalism schools in the country.”

  “But what if I’ve been wrong all along about what I want?”

  Maybe Drew is right. Maybe I don’t know what I want. My whole life, I’ve ushered myself into a narrow path. Go to the right schools, get into the right college, the right grad school, the right job. I even had the right boyfriend, but now that seems like so long ago.

  “What do you mean? You have it all, Molly. Every single thing you’ve set your sights on, you’ve been able to achieve. It’s actually pretty infuriating.”

  Jess smiles and puts a sympathetic hand on mine.

  “And if you aren’t sure this is what you want, why don’t you start reevaluating exactly what it is that you’re going for?”

  She doesn’t have to say anything else. I know what she means. She means that I should be figuring out what I want, starting with Drew Anderson.

  “Not every guy,” she adds, “is going to be like Thomas.”

  There it is. The unspoken name, the elephant in the room, the guy who said that he would be with me but who unceremoniously broke up with me after college to go do his own thing in California.

  He told me he didn’t like New York anymore. That after a lifetime of subway rats and greasy pizza, he wanted to move to California where the sun shines all year and there isn’t the perpetual threat of a blizzard around the corner.

  I reminded him that the summers in New York are as hot as the winters are cold, but that wasn’t enough for him.

  He didn’t want to listen to me. He packed up his Volkswagen and drove away.

  He didn’t even really do anything wrong. He never treated me badly. He never cheated on me. But I took it harder than I should have, because he was my first boyfriend, and I never got those relationship mistakes and heartaches out of the way when I was in high school.

  It was like I dove right into the deep end and never went through the water-wings stage.

  “I'm just not so sure that the first guy I need to jump into a relationship with is Drew Anderson.”

  “Why not? It seems like he has a lot of great qualities. Even though they may not be what you think you want, maybe you should examine what you want a little bit closer.”

  “That's what he said to me a few days ago. He asked what I really wanted. And I didn't know how to answer.”

  “And don't you think that's a little bit funny?”

  “What do you mean by funny?”

  “Not funny ha-ha, but ironic.”

  Jess reaches behind her back and unmutes the TV just in time for Alex to read the Double Jeopardy categories.

  Drew Anderson doesn't want a girl like me. He wants a girl like Clarissa. A girl who is going to look good next to him, a girl that his dad will love, a girl who can keep up with him and his lifestyle. It's a lifestyle I’ve never been introduced to.

  I know it isn’t acceptable for me to be giving myself over to him, at least not for anything more than a hushed fling.

  It doesn’t fit in with my plan. Even a thorough reevaluation of my plan would never reveal that I should be with Drew.

  And I know, deep down, he probably feels the same way.

  21. Drew

  I cannot get Molly out of my mind. Since sleeping with her, all I can think about is her soft lips, her soft pussy, and her perfect ass.

  I cannot deny what she does to my cock. When we had our first kiss, I wanted to push her shirt up her body and pin her hands over her head and screw her right against the wall of the empty dining room at the open house.

  I showed more gentlemanly restraint with her than I ever have with a woman.

  But that might partly be because Molly wasn’t throwing herself at me like most women do.

  I want to be with Molly in her apartment, cooking her a proper meal and feeding it to her in bed, but instead, I’m in my pajamas, on the couch in Rich’s apartment, fielding emails and responding to my brother’s many texts when I realize I don’t even have Molly’s number.

  In all of the craziness that’s gone down over the past few days, I never even got her number.

  At least I know where she lives.

  The emails about the headache of a lawsuit seem standard. There are emails between O’Malley and Lee that all of the partners at the two firms are copied on. O’Malley gave me and Eric strict instructions not to engage the other side, not to involve ourselves in the talks with the other firm or with their attorneys and strategists.

  Leave the lawyering to the lawyers, he said.

  But I know Eric wants to get in the mud with the guys. He wants to be a shot-caller, even though he’s really just the numbers guy.

  Not merely the numbers guy, but you know what I mean. I want him to stick to what he knows best.

  Identifying opportunities. Leveraging our assets.

  My phone rings, and of course it’s him.

  “Hey, man. What’s up? I’m still not working hard enough for you?”

  “Drew, you might have to come back to the city tonight. I think the other side wants to have a meeting.”

  I toss my laptop on the couch beside me and flip on the TV. I’m not trying to be cavalier about the whole thing, and I admit I was nervous about it at the beginning, but we have this in the bag.

  And I’m not shy about telling my brother that.

  “You think they want a meeting?” I laugh as I talk calmly into the phone.

  “Yeah. I mean, they said they would be in touch about a possible compromise.”

  “I told you, Eric. No compromises. Don’t you remember how they acted like a bunch of pussies when Lee called O’Malley? With them trying to put on that faux-aggressive posturing shit with the agreement? I should go to his office right now and tell him where he can shove the agreement.”

  “Just get back here, okay? How fucking weak would it look if O’Malley and I were there and you weren’t?”

  “No, man.” I hit mute on the TV when I get to some early-evening psycho-babble talk show. “Think about how cool that would look. Like, I’m so sure we are going to win that I don’t even show up for the meeting.”

  “And whose purposes would that be serving? The firm’s, or would that be for your own personal gain?”

  “I just think it would look badass.”

  “It would look cocky, and that’s the kind of antics that garnered the reputation you have.”

  I can feel through the phone that my brother is a little pissed off at me.

  “Hey, if you want a reputation like mine, maybe you should start blowing off some important meetings.”

  “Blowing them off? Is going on a bender in Miami with a couple of lingerie models your idea of blowing off a meeting?”

  “I don’t know.” I smile and put my feet up on the coffee table. “Something like that.”

  “But all of that is behind you now, right? Now that you’ve met Kristy?”

  “It’s Molly.”

  “Oh, you remember her name. How charming. And when you come back home, you aren’t going to just forget her like you did all those other girls in high school? And in college?”

  “I thought my brother would be happy that I finally met the love of my life.”

  “I’m certainly happy for you. Thrilled. I just think you should be paying more attention to your work. I’m not about to let our whole firm go up in flames just because you’re pussy-whipped by some bridge and tunnel chick.”

  “You’re going to regret making that comment when you have to give me and Molly a toast at our wedding. And maybe I should remind you that I negotiated one of our biggest deals whi
le I was on a video conference on a boat off the coast of Crete with one of those lingerie models you mentioned earlier?”

  “Fine. You’re right. You’re the best thing that ever happened to this company.”

  “Dude, I am the company. With you. We can do whatever we want.”

  “You know that’s not true. We have shareholders. Investors. We have to answer to them, buddy. It’s not just you and me running the show anymore. We have a million invisible strings attached to us, pulling us in every direction. Just remember that.”

  “You know, maybe I should make a little trip into the city. Take Molly out on the town.”

  “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “Do I ever not know what I’m doing?”

  I tend to a jammed door in Molly’s next-door neighbor’s apartment, and then make my way to her place. I don’t have her number, but I decide that she won’t mind if I just pop in.

  I knock on the door like I usually do, and it opens a few seconds later, with Molly standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, a coy smile creeping across her lips.

  “I came to take you out on a date.”

  “Oh, really? How do you know I don’t have other plans already?”

  “I don’t. But I know you’d cancel them for me.”

  “Do these lines really work on women? I mean, do women really go for the cocky type like you?”

  “It seems that they do. I mean, here I am, standing in your apartment. Looking at you. Seeing you.”

  I take a few steps toward her and brush her hair away from her shoulders. They are delicate, petite, flawless, and perfect.

  “That doesn’t mean anything, Drew Anderson. We are neighbors. You’re my super. That’s it.”

  “That’s not it,” I whisper in her ear. “That’s not all you want, is it? I can tell you want more. Just one little taste of my cock wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

  I feel my jeans get tight against my crotch. I want her so badly, but I want to prove that she isn’t just another hot piece of ass to me.

  Because she isn’t. If she had been, I wouldn’t have pursued her after stumbling into her apartment that first time. I would have know she wasn’t interested, and just moved on.

  It’s not like me to chase a woman who isn’t interested. I don’t have time for that. And I don’t need it in my life.

  There are more than enough women throwing themselves at me.

  But again, part of why I was attracted to her, part of why I wanted her so badly, was the fact that she didn’t throw herself at me as soon as she met me, like most women do.

  Most women who go to that bar where we first met are only interested in one thing.

  Or two things, if you count my money as something they want, next to getting laid.

  “You do want it, don’t you?”

  I feel her body shudder at my words, even though we aren’t touching.

  I slip my arm around her waist and pull her in close to me. Her shampoo smells like lime and lavender, and she’s breathing fast. I can nearly feel her heart beating against mine. I want to tell her to calm down, that we have all the time in the world.

  “I...yes,” she sighs into my arms. “I do want it.”

  “How bad? I want to hear you say it.”

  I put my hands on her chest and cup her perfect breasts through her thin t-shirt. She’s wearing a black lace bra underneath. I love how simply beautiful she is. Her big brown eyes say everything she wants to say, but I love pulling her out of her shell. Cracking her open, and discovering what’s beneath the surface.

  “Drew, you know what I want.” She looks up into my eyes and presses her body against mine.

  “I want to give it to you. And more. Let me take you out. Tonight. You showed me your turf, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you take me out on a date and didn’t take you out on one in return.”

  “That’s very progressive of you,” she says, her eyes sparkling, a smile tugging at the corners of her pretty pink lips.

  “I’m a modern man. What can I say? We’ll never go dutch, but I have to take you out, because you took me out. It’s only fair.”

  The light from the window in the small apartment illuminates her eyes, and I can see the word yes forming on the tip of her tongue.

  “Can I go out in this?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. Do a little spin for me.”

  She steps aside, tentatively, and walks in a slow, small circle, glancing over her shoulder as her gaze snaps away and then back to me. Her little white sundress is cute, but it isn’t what I have in mind for her.

  It’s so strange to date a woman who doesn’t need to be seen in the latest runway trends all the time. It’s refreshing. Molly dresses for herself. She doesn’t need to impress anyone.

  Maybe it isn’t fair of me to compare Molly to my ex, but there really is no comparison. They are leagues apart.

  “I’m afraid that what you’re wearing isn’t quite appropriate for where I’d like to take you. And would you mind very much if we stopped at my office quickly to check in with my brother? Let him know I haven’t pulled some Joaquin Phoenix stunt on him while I’ve been gone?”

  “Ooh! Going to the big man’s office? Are you sure they allow lowly people like me into the building?”

  “They would be lucky to have you.”

  “So I finally get to see you in your natural habitat?”

  “Baby,” I say, stepping toward her, looping my arms around her waist and pulling her close to me, “this is my natural habitat. This is where I belong.”

  Her breasts are pressed against my chest, her breath becoming rapid and heavy. I want to slip my hand up her shirt and feel every inch of her, drink her in and feel her. But I don’t do it.

  It takes all of my energy not to, but I don’t. I have more important things to do with her first.

  22. Molly

  Drew’s lips are dangerously close to mine. Too close for me to know what I’m doing. Too close to be able to make a good decision.

  The whole thing is freaking crazy. Following this guy I barely know into his car and driving off with him? Letting him into my apartment and my bed is one thing. Now I’m going to let him drive away with me?

  But his eyes are so clear and green and honest, his face so perfect and his body so captivating. I feel like my body has been taken away and my brain is just along for the ride.

  I want him to touch me all over. My body is screaming for it. The heat inside me, building up, threatening to be released at his slightest touch - I can barely take it, and the sense memory of the night we spent together slips over me like a wave.

  His lips brush against mine again, like they had at the open house we crashed. It’s like I’m playing dress-up with someone else’s life, and I know the clothes don’t quite fit me. The house, the backyard, none of it is for for me. I’m a single woman in a small apartment and not in my dream dollhouse that Drew Anderson would be able to buy in a second.

  His lips catch mine and caress me gently but hungrily, the tip of his tongue sliding against mine. When he pulls away, I realize that I haven’t been breathing. It’s like I was dreaming of falling, and suddenly wake up when our kiss breaks.

  “Go take your clothes off,” he commands with a whisper, his fingers wrapped softly around my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek. “And put on something a little bit more formal, but something you’re comfortable in. Every guy is going to be jealous anyway, because you’re so fucking beautiful. It really doesn’t matter what you have on.”

  We get into what Drew described as his sweet car. I’ve never been very impressed by so-called “sweet” cars, but the way Drew revs the engine is cute.

  “I hope that isn’t for my benefit, tough guy,” I say, glancing over at him.

  “Not at all. That’s for the benefit of any of the gearheads in your neighborhood who might be able to hear. You know a car like this attracts attention
.”

  “And do you like that, Drew Anderson?”

  “Sometimes. I like my toys. I’m not too big to admit it.”

  He shifts into reverse and backs us out of the space he snatched outside the building, throws it into drive and speeds to the corner before hitting the breaks at the stop sign.

  “This is the problem with driving in the city and the boroughs. Too many short streets. Too many stop signs. Not enough room to roll the windows down and let the car do its thing.”

  “You know,” I say, “when cars were first on the market, the guys who were really into them thought of them as an extension of the body.”

  “I guess that explains why I know so many knuckleheads obsessed with their big cars.”

  I bite my lip and know that Drew has no reason to be obsessed with his big car other than the pure pleasure of having a pretty toy. He doesn’t have to compensate for any shortcomings.

  “Then what’s your excuse?” I ask, glancing over at him and gripping the armrests as he merges onto the highway.

  “I just like it. It’s for me. Now, granted, like I said, I like that other guys look at it and like it. But it’s me who likes it the most.”

  He takes a hand off the steering wheel and puts it on mine.

  “That’s why it’s been so nice staying here in Brooklyn for a while. There’s no pretense. I don’t have to keep up the stupid appearances for my brother, try to look good.”

  “You do that without trying, Drew.”

  “You think I look good? Do you like me better in my suit or in my work clothes? You like me better with no clothes at all?”

  My stomach fills with butterflies and I squeeze the armrests tighter as he picks up speed and approaches the bridge into Manhattan.

  “Actually, this has been a very interesting few days.”

  “Anyone ever done to you what I’ve been able to?”

  “I can honestly say they haven’t.”

  “I have a little something planned for you for tonight. Something I think you’re going to like.”