Mr Right Now: A Romantic Comedy Standalone

by Lila Monroe

  “I’m going to burn up if I’m not back inside you, stat,” Drew says, his voice so low it’s almost a growl. A pleased shiver races through me. He shoves the frying pan off the element and twists the dial off. Then he’s spinning me around, bracing me against the counter as he brings his mouth down on mine.

  Forget breakfast. I can survive on this. He grazes his teeth against my lower lip, and I whimper. My fingers tangle in his hair. With a flex of his arms that makes me feel as if I weigh nothing, he’s set me right on the counter, my legs spread around his waist. He cups my jaw, kissing me as hungrily as he did last night. As if he’s never going to get enough of me. I’ve probably got flour on my ass, but I’ve also got the hard length of him pressed between my legs, so I really don’t give a fuck.

  Priorities.

  His hands drop lower. His breath stutters when they glide over my panty-less hips. “Don’t tell me I’m still dreaming,” he says.

  A breathless giggle escapes me. “If you are, promise me you won’t wake up just yet.”

  He chuckles, and then he’s kissing me again, even deeper than before. His hands roam back up my chest under my—his—shirt. His thumbs tweak my already hardened nipples, and I moan. I trail my fingers down the blissfully hot skin of his chest to the waistline of his boxers. He hums in approval as I yank them down. Then I’m gripping the silky hardness of his cock. It twitches against my palm at my caress, and I smile against his mouth.

  Drew grasps my hips and tugs me closer. His hand dips between my legs, with a groan as he feels how wet I already am. “Fuck.”

  “Yes, please,” I say, and he chuckles roughly. He gropes for a drawer, there’s a crinkle of a condom wrapper—talk about Boy Scout—and then he’s pushing inside me, so fast and good I lose my breath.

  For all the urgency getting to this point, once we’re joined he seems content to take it slow and savoring. Penetrating me with languid thrusts that somehow send my need spiraling even higher. He kisses me between ragged breaths, hot but tender. His thumb moves in lazy circles over my clit until I’m gasping for release. Drew grins and kisses me harder. His thumb works faster, his strokes deepening, and with one last thrust my orgasm crashes over me. Drew’s chest hitches. His muscles tighten beneath my hands as he follows me over the edge, thrusting deep inside one final time.

  “Now that’s what I call a good morning wake-up call,” he mumbles into my hair, and I giggle.

  He inhales deeply as if breathing in the scent of me. Kisses my jaw, my cheek, my mouth again. Then he pulls back, taking his heat with him, though I’m still flushed from head to toe.

  I wriggle down from the counter, and go freshen up in the bathroom. When I re-emerge, Drew is looking hungrily at the pancake batter.

  “Down, boy.” I elbow him lightly aside, and take my rightful position in charge of the pan. With the batter all prepped, it’s a matter of minutes until I have a plate full of soft, fluffy pancakes.

  “So did Charlie talk you into that charity thing tomorrow?” I ask, as we take a seat at the table. Drew wolfs his food down bare, but I drench my share in butter and syrup—after all, I must have burned off like a million calories last night.

  He sighs. “He made a decent case. And it would have been rough backing out at the last minute. So we’re going ahead. One acoustic song, no dancing.”

  “And the auction,” I grin.

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make some lucky lady very happy,” I say with a wink.

  Drew brightens. “Now there’s an idea. You’ll come, won’t you? Bid on me and save me from the fangirls. You can do it on my dime, and I’ve got a pretty much unlimited budget. Maybe you’ll even score another dance.”

  “Oh, I have to pay you for that now, do I?”

  He wraps an arm around my waist, leaning close. “Maggie.”

  “Of course I’ll come,” I say, tingling with warmth all over again. “But I’m if I’m shelling out the big bucks, I’m going to expect more than a kiss goodnight.”

  “Whatever the lady desires.”

  This time when he drops me off at home, Drew walks me up to the door. “Tomorrow at six?”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  He leans in for one last kiss, panty-melting enough that I barely register the click of the doorknob turning. I’m too slow to disengage before my mom pulls the door open.

  “Maggie!” she exclaims. “Drew! Good morning. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Why don’t you come on in?”

  My eyes widen in horror. Drew rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. “Good morning to you too, Mrs. Hayes.”

  “Let me just—”

  She turns toward the hall cupboard—lord knows what she’s planning on grabbing—and I take that brief opportunity to shove Drew toward the street.

  “Save yourself,” I mouth. He chuckles, but he goes, with a little farewell wave for me.

  “I was sure I had that …” Mom glances back and sees me closing the door behind me, alone. “Well, you could have at least let him stay for a chat.”

  “Mom, to remind you again, I’m not a teenager anymore. You don’t need to vet my boyfriends. Anyway, you already know Drew. You were selling me on his virtues just the other day.”

  Mom huffs, but she’s smiling. “And why shouldn’t I want to have at least a brief talk with him, then?” A sly glint lights in her eyes. “Or are you worried I’m going to embarrass you, honey?”

  “Oh, don’t turn on the guilt trip,” I say with a groan, unable to repress my own smile at her teasing. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to talk to him sometime. He’s living in the city again now.”

  “I heard that from Mrs. Delaney.” Mom follows me to the foot of the stairs. “So does this mean you might stay longer than you were talking about before? Philadelphia is a wonderful city to settle down in, you know. And if you started a new business here, it would be a perfect time to—”

  “Whoa!” I say, holding up my hand. “Don’t go planning anything. Drew and I are just … having fun.”

  Damn it, my cheeks flush even saying that. At least Mom doesn’t comment on that.

  “Of course, honey,” she says with a knowing air. “I was only pointing it out. After all, there’s no reason you couldn’t put down your roots here, with him or not.”

  “I know.”

  Upstairs in the bathroom, I comb my fingers through my hair in front of the mirror, looking back at my reflection. There’s nothing like a night of hot sex and two—no, make that three—orgasms to bring a glow to a girl’s cheeks. I can barely see the shadow of the woman who got chased out of Brooklyn, broke and humiliated. No, I’ve got a smile on my face, and another roll in the hay all planned out.

  But that’s not what I came back here for, I remind myself. The plan was to take a breath, regroup, and get moving with the next chapter of my life. My next big dream. And settling down back home while catering a few parties isn’t the thing dreams are made of.

  Drew is pretty fucking spectacular, but this is the original Mr. Right-Now we’re talking about. He’s about as casual as they come, and we agreed this was all about the hot fun. The last thing I want to do is get attached, and wind up flat on my face again—without a cock cake to break my fall. No, I need to be smart. Focused on a game plan.

  Like my baking dreams. Maybe I can still make a go of the New York scene, I wonder. I’m not a quitter, and even though I don’t have the capital to start from scratch again, it doesn’t mean I have to admit defeat. If the past weeks here have proven anything, it’s that I bake a damn good cake. So maybe I just need to get back in the game, work my connections, and try to build slowly instead of going all in.

  I plop down on my bed and pull out my phone. One by one, I bring up all of my contacts in New York City and put out the word I should have been spreading my first day back here.

  “I’m back in job search mode. If you hear about any positions opening up where you think my skills would be app
reciated, give me a shout, okay?”

  Who knows? Maybe someone will have a shot for me. The only thing I know for sure is that, Drew or no Drew, I can’t stay living out of my childhood bedroom forever.

  It’s time I picked myself up and got my life back on track.

  Hairy iced balls and all.

  From “(No One Can) Buy My Heart” by Category 5

  You give me that look like you think you know me

  But girl, you’ve got to see you’ll never own me

  All those flashy toys don’t mean a thing

  There’s more to this life than cash and bling

  There’s no Rolex big enough

  No wallet full enough

  Wave a handful of bills

  And you’ll be left out in the dark

  A kiss, a touch, yeah, I’ll be yours

  But no one

  Yeah no one

  Can buy my heart

  15

  Drew

  I’m not going to lie and say auctioning myself off in a charity auction is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done. I mean, there was that 36-hour Vegas “marriage,” my scandalous faux pas on Japanese television, the shark incident in Hawaii—let’s not even get into that one. But this event is still pretty ridiculous. I’m going to make a total fool of myself. So I probably shouldn’t be in a mood this good.

  But I am. Because as I’m buttoning up my shirt, I’m not thinking about how it’ll look under stage lights, but how I hope Maggie’s eyes are going to light up when she sees me in it. As I head out the door, I’m not thinking about the hotel I’ll be showing up at in less than an hour, but about all the hours I’ll have after Maggie wins that auction. She’s going to be bidding on me, but I’m pretty sure I’m getting the better prize.

  Maggie texted me earlier to warn me that her mother’s book club would be in session when I arrive to pick her up, but I’m still not totally prepared for the mass of cars packed in the driveway and along the street outside her house. Apparently book club involves half the population of Philadelphia.

  Twitters of laughter carry through the living-room window, so I duck around back, figuring I’ll surprise Maggie—minus the parental pile-on. The outer part of the sliding glass door there is wide open to let in the breeze through the screen. And the screen door isn’t locked. I ease it open and slip inside.

  The house’s layout is pretty similar to the house my mom still lives in across the street. I tread softly through the kitchen and along the thankfully carpeted hall. Extra gratitude for the not-particularly-creaky stairs.

  It’s not hard to figure out which room I’ll find Maggie in. That’d be the one with Category 5 tunes audible through the closed door. I grin. I stroll over and open it just a crack.

  “I think I hear my theme song calling.”

  “Oh! You—” Maggie darts into view to turn off the music. Her face has flushed, and the dress she was pulling on hasn’t been zipped up yet, revealing a long triangle of that gorgeous creamy skin. Is there a man alive who can resist a sight like that? If there is, I don’t think I want to know him.

  “I was just … doing some research,” she says, still looking embarrassed.

  “Hey, no judgment here.” Sometimes I feel a little embarrassed by the results of my early attempts at creative genius, distilled into pop form. But that doesn’t stop me from being completely flattered that Maggie has the songs and wanted to listen to them of her own free will.

  I step into the bedroom, kick the door shut behind me, and set my hands on either side of Maggie’s waist from behind. “Anyway, it looks like you need a little help,” I murmur with my mouth by her ear. “May I?”

  “Be my guest,” she says, and I’ll be damned if the breathy quality that’s come into her voice doesn’t get me half hard just like that. The zipper can wait. I lean closer to kiss the sensitive spot just below her earlobe. Maggie hums approvingly, and there we go, I’m hard as they come.

  “How did you manage to get by the book club brigade?” Maggie says, her voice wavering as I plant a few more kisses down the slope of her neck. I don’t know if it’s some perfume she’s put on or just the aftereffects of baking, but she smells fucking fantastic. Like buttery vanilla with a dash of nutmeg.

  Charity auction—what charity auction? I don’t want to move one inch from where I am right now.

  “I have highly developed parental evasion skills,” I inform her. Then I move my hands to exactly where they’re meant to be—on the soft, bare skin of her back.

  Maggie sighs as I slide my fingers under the edges of her open dress. “I thought you meant you were going to help me get the dress on,” she says, but from the way she’s leaning back into me, it’s obviously not a complaint.

  “Oh, I will.” I stroke my thumbs along the seam of her bra. “I’m just taking the scenic route.”

  I lift my hands to cup those luscious breasts. Maggie lets out a muffled moan as I caress them through the fabric. “We can’t … get too caught up. The walls in this house are … kind of thin.”

  “So we’ll be quiet, then,” I say, nipping the corner of her jaw. “Didn’t I mention my parental evasion skills?”

  She laughs for a second before it turns into a whimper as I pinch her nipples. Her sweet ass grinds back against me, and if my cock was hard before, it could now rival steel. Then she turns, forcing me to relinquish her curves, if only for a moment. She kisses me hard. I grip her hips and pull her flush against me, letting her feel just how much she’s already turned me on. Her hand fists against my neck. She pulls back, biting her lip, but there’s a glint in her eye that excites me.

  “I never did do the sneak-a-boy-into-my-bedroom thing when I lived here way back when,” she says. “I’m starting to see the appeal.”

  “Hmm. I can absolutely help you make up for lost time.”

  I dip my head for another kiss. She swallows a moan as I tug gently on her lower lip. Then she nudges me backward, toward the bed. My pulse kicks up a notch. I completely approve of the direction this is going.

  She pushes me down onto the mattress. I grab her hand to pull her with me, but she shakes her head, biting her lip again. I want to be biting it.

  “Can’t get too caught up, remember,” she says, but her voice has gone sultry. “But there is something I never got to finish.”

  Before I have a chance to wonder what she means, she’s dropped to her knees. Oh, fuck, yes. My cock strains against my slacks as Maggie fumbles with the button and jerks down the zipper. She runs the heel of her hand up it from base to head. I lean back on my hands with a groan.

  “Try to be quiet now,” she says with a coy look through her eyelashes. She’s already lowering her head as she frees me from my boxer-briefs.

  There really is no describing the heaven that is Maggie Hayes’s mouth. And frankly when it’s sucking down my dick, I don’t have much use for words. It’s all things hot and deep and holy, her tongue swirling around my shaft as if it’s coated in icing and she’s licking every last bit off it. The flood of scorching sensation is so intense my arms sag. I catch myself on my elbows, my head lolling back.

  “You are so. Fucking. Good at that,” I manage to say. I feel the smile her lips form around my cock before she sucks it back down again. My nerves are ablaze and the pressure is already building to bursting. I’m not going to last long.

  But that’s okay. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.

  She grips me at the base as her mouth slicks up and down. An inarticulate mutter drops from my mouth. I reach for her, meaning to caress my fingers over her head, but only managing to tangle them in her hair. She gives an encouraging hum at my tug. I trace my fingertips over her scalp through the first few pumps, and then I’m too far gone to be sure of my aim. Of any sort.

  “I’m almost there,” I say hoarsely. “Fuck. I’m gonna come, Maggie.”

  She doesn’t pull back, doesn’t hesitate for a second. Just dives right down on me, swallowing me into the back of her throat,
like I’m some rare delicacy she can’t get enough of. And then I am coming, hard, muscles clenching all through my thighs. I drop back all the way onto the bed with a breathless chuckle.

  Maggie swirls around my length one last time and then straightens up, with a lick of her lips for good measure. Even though I just came hard enough to see sparks behind my eyes, my dick twitches, seeing that. I sit up to slide my hand around the bare skin of her leg just below her dress. She shakes her head with a sly smile.

  “I think I’d really better get dressed now.”

  She tucks me back in and zips me up before turning so I can do the same for her. I can’t resist trailing my fingers up her back once more before I comply, but I’m a good boy otherwise. Until I wrap my arms around her waist, slipping one hand between her legs, and murmur in her ear, “Are you sure there’s nothing else I could help you with right now?”

  She draws in a breath, heavy with temptation—and then the doorbell sounds downstairs. Her mom must get it, because a few seconds later Mrs. Hayes’s voice carries up the stairs.

  “Maggie, McKenna’s here!”

  Maggie quickly steps away from me. “Later,” she says, with a wicked look. “Tonight, it’s all about you. And your big show.”

  “Just what I need,” I groan. “My sister and my girlfriend witnessing my grand humiliation.”

  Maggie snorts. “You’ll be fine. Everyone adores you.”

  She grimaces at her hair in her mirror and twists it up in a clip. Then we head downstairs. Maggie hustles me straight to the front door.

  “Is that Drew?” her mother exclaims, and she’s already pushing me out. McKenna raises her eyebrows but follows.

  “There,” Maggie says as she jerks the door closed behind us. “A clean escape.”

  “Hey!” a voice calls from down the street. Maggie’s younger sister Lulu is just hopping out of a cab. “Looks like I’m in time to join the party.”

  I glance at Maggie, and she shrugs. “I mentioned it at lunch. She thought it’d be fun.”

  “Hell yeah,” Lulu says with a smirk. She’s all dressed up in a short, tight dress, and I can already tell, she’ll be trouble. “No way I’m missing this.”