Cocky: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Ashlee Price

  He bent me over the sink, and began to push his fingers into me, then knelt down, and stabbed me with his tongue. He ate me hungrily, licking my pussy, squeezing my ass in his hands as he clung on for dear life, and I loved the sight of my face, pressed up against the mirror as it was while he devoured me, filling me up with sensations, making me moan, right there, audibly, in a public place.

  It wasn’t quite on the same level as drug dealing, of course, but I decided that it was just about the precise level of naughtiness I was looking for in my life just at that moment…

  He licked me to climax, and once I’d finished screaming, he mounted me – taking a very different route from the one he generally went for.

  Sensations pumped through my body as he slowly ground his cock up my anus, a bad boy as he was and still needing this little extra thrill to sustain himself. God, it felt wonderful, as at last he buried himself deep inside up my ass, and I breathed a heavy sigh as I struggled happily to contain him.

  And he began to fuck me wildly, like an animal, smashing his body repeatedly up into me. Thrusting, pushing, humping insanely, the sink clattering as we screwed up against it, rattling on its hinges, my toes curling up as my buttocks clenched around him, the sensations ungodly, wonderful as hell, causing me to shriek like a banshee and making stars flash before my eyes.

  Finally, he finished up, holding steadily up into my body, and ejaculating inside me. Pulse after pulse of his hot, molten cum, filling me to the brim, and causing me to roar as the orgasm burned through me like wildfire. Anal climax tore through my body, an experience that I’d not yet known in my plain, vanilla lovemaking, yet the sensations were powerful beyond description, making my head spin, causing a dirty little smile to spread wide across my lips in the mirror.

  He pulled out of me at last, and the two of us kissed wildly, passionately, reunited at last, and ready to pick right back up where we’d left off before. I’d brought out the best in him, and him the naughtiest in me, so that at last we’d struck the perfect balance between good and bad in our lives.

  And as we kissed, staring deep into one another’s eyes as we made plans to go back to his apartment and continue things properly, I felt far happier, more content, and more optimistic about my life than I had been in quite some time.

  ~THE END~

  Bad Boy’s Little Secret

  I’m at the bar one evening, trying not to think about my current circumstances. I’ve always been told that dating is supposed to be fun, but it’s pure misery as I sit there in solitude, waiting for someone to flirt with me or make a move. No one seems to show any interest in me, and I’m left to reflect on my most recent failed relationship, the discovery that my ex was cheating on me, etc. However, just when I’m ready to give up, a stranger buys me a drink. He’s a handsome man, a little bit older – and unmistakably a bad boy… He invites me back to his room with him, almost without preamble, and the two of us enjoy a night of rough, passionate lovemaking. The next morning, however, he tells me he doesn’t want to take things too far. I try to live with that decision, thinking that just this one night of ecstasy should be enough for me. However, that’s when I discover I’m pregnant with his baby, and I end up learning a dirty little secret he’s kept from me…

  Chapter 1

  I thought dating was supposed to be fun… Although, admittedly, I don’t know exactly why I thought that… Nothing in my experience really seemed to indicate that that was the case, but it was what I’d always intuited from other people, and to some extent, I guess I sort of internalized it myself, thinking that, surely, sooner or later, the fun would come.

  Maybe I just wasn’t the right type of girl to have fun dating… Maybe I took everything too seriously, too gravely. Maybe there was fun to be had there, but I just didn’t let myself experience it. It was getting hard to tell, anymore…

  For me personally, though, it was beginning to feel increasingly more like work than enjoyment. Ideally, a young girl like myself, mid-twenties, decent looking, should have gone to the bar after work to unwind, to make herself available, and men should have flocked to her, until just the right guy picked her up and made her evening. Not all girls are like that, sure, but the ones I associated with tended to be, and that led to a sort of expectation in me that I could enjoy that same sort of success, that same sort of thrill.

  It didn’t really happen that way at all, to be honest… The whole ordeal, more often than not, just made me feel more awkward and tense than anything. It was unnerving to me, rather than flattering, to feel that the men all around me were checking me out, sizing me up, mentally undressing me from head to toe and trying to decide whether they approved of what they saw underneath in their heads – or at the very least, enough to want to go home and stick themselves inside of it for the evening…

  And how the hell was that anyone’s idea of fun?

  More than anything, it made me insecure. Not only because of how unnerving that all inherently is, but also because I already had quite a few doubts about myself in terms of dateability. There were so many other attractive girls at the bar… Thin and sexy, with perfect tits and firm asses, painted lips and sizzling features, all combined to paint a picture of irresistible beauty, designed specifically to lure men into their embrace like sirens leading sailors to their graves.

  And what the hell was I by comparison?

  I was readily aware of the fact that this description didn’t describe me at all. I was shy, unassuming. I didn’t crave attention; I just wanted to find a decent guy for at least the night, maybe longer. I didn’t like flirting, or trying to impress the people around me, or playing any of those dumb games people play to avoid outright coming out and saying they want to fuck you.

  And appearance wise, I felt certain that I didn’t stand anywhere near these other women by comparison, and that further enhanced my misery as I sat there at the bar, sipping on my drink every few minutes or so.

  Now, granted, I wasn’t an unattractive girl… Quite the opposite, really, when you got right down to it. I’d always been curvier, thicker, and to some extent I guess that occasionally bothered me. But if I could look past trying to compare myself to the people around me, I could actually be pretty sexy when the mood struck me. My curves were voluptuous, falling in all the right places, and I carried my weight daintily, making me seem substantive and sexy. With my wide hips, my substantial thighs… My plump, cushioned buttocks, my supple breasts, and my angelic face. I had dazzling blue eyes, crystal clear and hypnotic, a button nose, and tight red lips – talented at whatever endeavors they chose to undertake, if you catch my drift… And finally, I had silky, shimmering dark brown hair, flowing and sumptuous, completing a picture of ideal femininity in my book that I could largely be proud and confident of.

  In isolation, that is…

  When it came to competing with other women for men’s attention, I folded like a tent. For all the sway I could hold over a guy when it was just the two of us in the bedroom, one on one, I found that it wasn’t at all difficult to keep his attention with reasonable success. I didn’t even have to think about it – it was completely natural to me, and I felt no inhibition in my seductions in any way.

  But when it got down to trying to beat other women to the punch, so to speak, and to be the one to command the most attention from a guy, well… I just felt like my confidence was always shaky and unstable, and I felt as though I was lesser, unworthy, not able to succeed and the effort, therefore, not worth making.

  Recent experience, frankly, hadn’t really helped me all that much in this regard, either…

  Truth be told, I was out here tonight at the bar, forcing myself into socialization, because I’d recently come out of a long-term relationship with a boyfriend of mine, who I’d been dating for two years now.

  The relationship ended, you see, because I found out that he’d been cheating on me for the previous two months, with a thinner, arguably more attractive girl.

  And God, it devastated me…
>
  Matthew was my boyfriend’s name, and at one point I’d felt so damn lucky to have him. I’d been looking for someone steady for a while at the time, because, like I said, I wasn’t too big on the dating scene. As far as I was concerned, settling down with someone nice, even for just a while, was preferable to going around trying to find someone new all the time, and Matthew, initially, had fit the bill. He was smart, funny, attractive, athletic, and he loved me for who I was, most importantly of all. He seemed not to want to change a single damn thing about me, and accepted me flaws and all, without expectations. And my only expectation for him was that he be honest with me, which he did, for months and months on end.

  God, they’d been some of the happiest times of my life… He’d always had a way of picking me up when I was down, knowing just what to say, encouraging me… It had been so gratifying, so sweet, and it seemed strange that there had ever been a time in life when I’d been plagued by my numerous insecurities at all, because everything had at last seemed so perfect. I hadn’t been able to conceive an end to it until at last the end came, and I realized that a large part of what I’d loved about Matthew had all been an illusion.

  He was really, in truth, quite the douchebag…

  When I at last found out about his piece of ass on the side, I felt completely stupid and gullible about it, like I’d completely had the wool pulled over my eyes, going on blindly thinking everything was fine, and naturally I got quite indignant about it trying to confront him about his actions.

  And the crazy thing was, he acted like he hadn’t even done anything wrong… He shrugged me off, acted like I was being too dramatic… And maybe I was – I’d just been betrayed in an awfully huge way as far as I was concerned, and I was admittedly pissed at him, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing and to find some sort of vindication.

  But somehow, he ended up turning it around on me. He said that I’d started boring him, that maybe if I’d done a better job of making sure his needs were met, he wouldn’t have done what he did. Which, to me, was peculiar, because as far as I’d known we’d had a pretty active sex life, and he’d never once tried to convey to me any dissatisfaction or want of anything. So for him to accuse me of being the reason our relationship had fallen apart seemed, frankly, as absurd as it was insulting.

  I ended up yelling at him, and our relationship basically crumbled with the fateful words that I’d never find anyone as good as himself to love me.

  And God, what a blow that had been…

  I was just now only beginning to recover from it, putting myself back out there dangerously once more at the request of a friend, who’d been worried about me and wanted me to at least to try to get back on my feet in that regard.

  And so, I’d given it a go. I sat, now, shifting around at the bar, trying not to look to nervous, and to pretend like I was at least capable of making dating fun like I was supposed to. But I’m pretty sure I was about as transparent as could be in my discomfort, squeezing my shoulders together, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Any guy that might have tried looking at me flirtatiously, sizing me up, seemed to be instantly dissuaded by my uptight and withdrawn manner, and passed along without a word, not even bothering to try and make small talk with me in my obvious state of introversion.

  God, this was hopeless… I needed to get a hold of myself. I needed to do my best to try and at least make eye contact with someone, because if I went home alone tonight, without company, I would end up feeling even more lonely and like a failure than I was already thanks to Matthew.

  I sat up in my seat, brushing aside my blues as best as I could manage, and slowly I tilted around the room, trying to scope out my prospects.

  It didn’t take long for my enthusiasm to droop downward however – it seemed as though I’d waited just a tad bit too long, and now a lot of the decent looking guys were gone for the evening, left with the aforementioned beautiful women, and leaving me to pick from, essentially, the leftovers.

  That was very, very depressing to me…

  I turned back to my glass, took a long last sip, and then stared into it, as though hoping it might magically refill itself.

  And then surprisingly, something very close to the next best thing happened – possibly even better…

  As though reading my mind, the bartender set a new glass, full past the halfway mark in front of me. I stared at it for a moment, honestly perplexed, and I looked at him inquisitively, trying to understand.

  “From the fella across the bar,” he said, and something fluttered inside my chest.

  This, of course, got me on edge. Not wholly in a bad way, just in an attentive way. As subtly as I could manage I tried to straighten myself back up again, as though I’d not been moping around like I had been in the first place. And very carefully I peered over in the man’s direction from the corner of my eye, trying to decide whether this was going to be worth the song and dance I was prepared to put up for him. At first, all I could see was a figure in shadow. I had to say that, at least, what I did see of him wasn’t bad looking at all, but granted I still had very little idea as to whether I wanted this to progress any further.

  And then he stood up… My heart fluttered, as the man in shadow began to drift his way through the bar like a phantom, moving with measured footsteps, making me dizzy with anticipation. My hand actually began to tremble around the drink he’d bought for me, so that I had to set it down, to avoid looking so damn anxious in his presence.

  Slowly, the blackness shrining him receded and I was given my first real view of him…

  And my first, immediate impression was that God, he was older than I was… Not like, way older, but… Well, enough for me to notice it.

  And I’m not saying it in a creepy way, either… I was immediately turned on, aroused as hell at the notion that an older guy was making advances toward me, flirting shamelessly, and I felt suddenly very naughty, very ready to participate in whatever he might happen to have to offer me.

  “Good evening,” he said, sitting down at the bar beside me, and then he added, “You looked like you could use a drink…”

  “You read me well,” I said, not quite kicking the doors wide open for him just yet, but I was smiling so flirtatiously that I thought for certain it would be impossible for him to mistake my intentions.

  I brought the drink up slowly to my lips, and poured the contents seductively down my throat, my confidence suddenly returning to me in light of the circumstances. I couldn’t quite define what it was in that moment that had led to such a drastic turnaround in my moods, from morose to playful and ready to get laid. In all likelihood, the stranger’s willingness to approach me had been encouraging factor, giving me reassurance about myself, and making dating fun once again, as I’d supposed it was meant to be.

  It didn’t hurt at all that this older gentleman happened to be handsome as hell… He had dark features, with slick black hair, penetrating eyes that only scarcely concealed a devilish, depraved nature beneath. He needed to shave, but his stubble was like seasoning, increasing his already spicy flavor, making him seem badder, more dangerous, and thereby, even more appealing than he already was. He wore a tight leather jacket, and underneath that a black, skin-tight t-shirt, his muscles bulging clearly through the fabric.

  Holy hell, I thought… I’d never been with a man like this, or had one display so much clear interest in me. I tried to gauge how much older he was than me… Maybe ten, fifteen years; like I said, nothing too extreme or absurd or anything like that. But frankly, it didn’t really matter that much either way when I looked into that smoldering gaze of his. It gave me all the information I could ever possibly need to know about him…

  I finished off the drink, licking my lips at him, and I could tell he liked it. “Thank you for the drink,” I said with a sigh, and I crossed my legs on the barstool, likely giving him a nice flash up my skirt in the process. My real objective, though, was to let one of my feet graze up against his leg. I gently swung it thr
ough the air, so that it tapped him repeatedly, letting him know I was interested.

  He smiled at me, reading my signals clearly.

  “I’m Ray,” he said, extending a hand to me.

  “Elizabeth,” I said, shaking it, and his palm was warm, strong, enveloping mine in a way that turned me on.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth,” he said.

  “And you as well,” I said.

  There was a moment’s silence, and I felt as though one of us needed to say something – but of course, I had no clue what the hell that should be. Thankfully, though, Ray spoke up for me, “Look, I… I know this is a little bit sudden… But I’ve been feeling lonely lately, and you sort of struck me as feeling the same way, to some degree… I mean, I don’t want to assume too much, but…”

  “No, that’s… That’s pretty accurate,” I said, laughing at myself as I said it, and trying not to let my sorrow show. He smiled at me.

  “Well, then… Do you think you might be interested in keeping one another company for the evening? I’ve been sitting in the corner for a while now, and all evening I’ve thought you were the most beautiful girl in here. And I know this is kind of out of left field, but…”

  “No, it’s – I was just thinking, actually, how much less fun it is sitting around and trying to make a connection, than it is actually meeting and having fun with someone… I actually appreciate you being so straightforward about it.” He smiled at me, and I smiled back, before realizing that I hadn’t yet actually given him an answer.

  I breathed in deep, then, trying to tell myself I’d at least given some consideration to his offer before jumping on board. Honestly, though, what the hell did I have to lose? I mean, technically the answer to that question was “a lot…” I’d not gotten to know this man, or anything about him, for that matter. We’d scarcely exchanged words of conversation, or gotten to know one another. I’d just decided, for no particular reason, to naively trust him, to go along with the pleasant words he spoke to me in hopes for the best. He could be a mad man, for all I knew…