F*cking Awkward (8 page)

“I got it from here.” TJ’s raspy low voice interrupted my thoughts.

This wasn’t the end. Playing off my foul, I curled my lips to the side. “Now where’s the fun in that? Hmmmm?” I pried his fingers away, earning a raised brow in return.

I undid his fancy buckle, leaving his belt hanging on the sides as I popped open the brass button to his jeans. “Still got it from here?” I asked, peering up at him with question in my eyes.

He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, sending my chest into another fit of rapid beats. “You’re runnin’ the show. By all means, continue.” His dimple made another appearance and I swallowed hard. Another wave of excitement rolled through me. Ready for more of this man, I hurried to lower his zipper but his warm hand on top of mine stopped me. I batted my lashes as I glanced up at him.

“Easy does it on that, ‘kay?”

I peered down at the zipper and then back up at TJ. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Lemme do it.” His words were rushed as if he didn’t trust me at all.

I nudged his hand away and tilted my head. “I’ve got this,” I said, with only a minor feeling of apprehension in my voice. I’d already hurt his precious jewels once. I didn’t need to do it again.

His loud breath rolled between us and I chuckled as my not so steady fingers tightened on the zipper, causing TJ’s body to stiffen. Then in one swift movement, I closed my eyes and pulled it down until it could go no further. My lids lifted in excitement, meeting TJ’s line of vision. “Seeeeee,” I told him.

His chest relaxed in a long breath and he smiled.

I was a little worried, too, but I’d never admit it. I slid my palms up to his hips, tucking my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. “Now for the rest,” I purred, my hands itching to get these off so we could really have some fun.

Before I started, I glanced up and found TJ’s gaze already on mine, his eyes darker than ever, his breathing harder than just moments ago. The ache burning between my legs was ready to ignite by just that look.

Frantically, I went back to his jeans and yanked them down. I got them lowered to his thighs and they wouldn’t budge. Taking a quick break, I wiped the sweat on my forehead, the room suddenly feeling like an inferno with all this work.

“You alright down there?” TJ’s voice sliced through my mental pep talk, assuring me that I could get these things off the rest of the way.

I sighed and pulled my hair to one side. “Could your jeans be any tighter? I mean, what gives?” Sure, these jeans gave a great show for those looking at his delectable ass, but holy hell, they were terrible for an impromptu escapade in a cleaning closet.

I fanned my face, feeling overly hot in this room that seemed to have shrunk in size since we first locked ourselves in here.

His frustrated groan echoed off the walls. “Jesus, woman. Lemme just do it.”

I didn’t even have a chance to tell him no. TJ started shimmying side to side, lowering his jeans inch by inch. He was having better luck than I was but the second he got his jeans to his shins, he stopped. His damn boots were still on.

“Damn,” he grumbled, shooting a glare at his feet.

This was not happening! Another obstacle. I reached out and blurted, “Lift your leg!”

His head cocked to the side, a brow rising with it. “You serious right now?”

“I’ll help you,” I told him, full of eagerness. My body was overly hot, beyond ready, and not willing to wait another second.

Surprisingly, TJ did as I asked. He plopped his boot in my waiting hand and I tightened my grip around the leather ready to pull. I planted my feet into the gross floor and yanked as hard as I could.

TJ’s boot didn’t budge, but TJ did. His arms flew up in the air as he slammed against the wall. “Shitttt,” TJ groaned slowly, sliding down and in turn, taking me down with him.

I blinked, my head spinning a little too much as I peered around. TJ was on the floor, wincing and I was on top straddling him, his boot no longer in my hold, but now sideways on his foot. A gut-busting laugh barreled through me. What I didn’t expect was TJ to be chuckling, too.

This was the most dysfunctional orchestrated sex I'd ever been involved in.
As much as every organ inside me wanted to get laid, this wasn’t working. “I think we're done here.” The tequila seemed to be wearing off as I glanced around us. What were we thinking?
“No way this is happening.” TJ’s voice was low and unexpected. “I'm not ready for you to leave me yet.”

I looked down at him. He gazed up at me. My heart fluttered a little too much for what I’d normally call a one night stand. I palmed the side of his smooth cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, yet I heard it loud and clear.

Guys had told me that before, but not the way TJ did. He said it like he meant it.

His hands trailed around my waist, ghosting up my back until his fingers wrapped around the clasp of my bra.

I closed my eyes, the feel of TJ’s hard on pressing so perfectly into my thigh and the way I felt was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I wanted this so bad my whole body was tingling, the room spinning, my skin flashing in a heat so hot I’d swear I was on fire.

“TJ . . .” I murmured.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, mimicking mine. His fingers were making quick work of my bra and I couldn’t wait to be free of it, to feel the cool touch of his hands on my bare breasts.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Yeah, Mel. You want this, don’t you?” TJ leaned closer to me, my breasts spilling out of my bra as my straps fell down my shoulders.

“Yesssss,” I admitted. “I . . . I . . .” My words lodged somewhere between my tightening throat and churning stomach. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” My eyes popped open and I slammed a hand over my mouth.

TJ’s ninja instincts kicked into gear but it was too late. Vomit spewed all over his button down shirt. I was kind of glad I had forgotten to take that off now. At least, it saved his skin.

TJ dropped the bucket that he had grabbed. “I guess there’s no need for that.” He grimaced as he stared down at his chest, his brows pulled in tight.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, getting rid of the remnants. My mouth twisted to the side as I surveyed the damage. “I am so sorry, TJ.”

“Actually, I think we, uh, are done now after all.” His eyes wouldn’t leave his shirt and the worst part was half of me wanted to laugh at the situation. The other half wanted to crawl inside the bucket and never come out. How was I ever going to look at this man again?

How was he going to look at me the same way again?

I palmed my forehead. “Oh, God. I really am sorry.”

TJ made quick work of the small buttons, moving carefully around the ones covered in puke. He pulled his arms out of the shirt and left it behind him.

His beautifully crafted chest stared back at me and I sighed at the sight. And then I held a hand over my mouth, nausea creeping back once again. “I need to get out of here.”

Once standing, TJ helped me put my skirt back on and then grabbed my bra. He held it out as I put my arms through the holes and pulled the straps up onto my shoulders. TJ moved behind me and clasped the bra closed. As I was sliding the shirt over my head, my heart stopped at the sound of the door clicking open and another female voice shrieking.

"Oh, shit! This isn’t the bathroom. Uh . . . Moose?"

I yanked my shirt down over my face, eyeing the girl. My pulse pounded in my ears as I watched her eyes ping pong from TJ, aka Moose, back to me. TJ stood there, his face turning a deep color of red. "Kacey? What are you doing?”

I whipped my head back to the girl who just stood there with the door open to the world, my drunken self half naked in front of her.

"Opps. Sorry.” She hiccupped and then pinched her eyes shut for a long beat. “I had a little too much to drink. Wrong door I guess. I should . . . um . . . I should go now."

The door slammed shut and I gulped through the tennis ball stuck in my throat. "Who in the
hell
was that?" I asked TJ, my voice cracking in panic and anger.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and exhaled so hard I felt his breath hit my bare stomach. "She’s my friend.” His head bobbed side to side, his mouth twisting. “Kinda sorta, an ex."

"Awesome! Just great." My hands flew up to my sides. "’Cause that’s not awkward at all!"

A low chuckle escaped him and my jaw locked tight. "I'll talk to her. It’ll be fine. She probably won’t even remember." I lowered my gaze on him, shooting daggers his way. “Let’s just get you home, woman. Before you ruin my jeans, too.”

I nodded. There was no part of this tequlia soaked night that could be salvaged. It was time to call it quits. The ride in his truck to the house Cassie and I were staying at was quick. Neither of us spoke, the radio stayed silent, but the awkwardness sat like a huge fucking elephant between us.

TJ pulled up to the house and I quickly unbuckled my seat belt and after a quick ‘thanks for the ride’, I quickly bailed, shutting the passenger door behind me.

“Hey,” TJ’s voice called out behind me.

I stopped in the grass, my heels clasped tight to my chest.

TJ smiled and said, "Some day, Melanie Rhodes, we’re gonna try this again. And it’ll be worth it. I can promise you that much."

I fought the smile playing on my lips and hugged the shoes tighter to my beating heart. “Someday, TJ Preston, I hope you’re right.”

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This short features two beloved characters, Melanie and Moose from The Keaton Series. If you've enjoyed this story and would like to read more of their adventures, you can find them in Away, and Stay. Be sure to watch for their novel, For Keeps, coming 2016. You can add on
Goodreads
.

B.A. Wolfe is a girl with a passion for reading and writing, and lives in the gorgeous state of Colorado with her husband (her biggest cheerleader), and her two fur babies. B.A. spends all her free time either furiously typing stories on her laptop or happily reading through her endless TBR. She is a sucker for #hashtags, wine, gummy bears, and a good love story that makes her cry.

“
S
o she’ll be here
at eight, right?” Reagan finished off her glass of Cabernet and promptly poured another, filling it to the top.

Evan raised an eyebrow at the almost-empty bottle in her hand. “Is this still okay? I can always call her off—”

“No, no, I’m good. Just…thirsty.” She took a long swallow of the robust wine and then gave him a smile. “So…what’s she like?”

“Uh…well, apparently she specializes in couples, spankings, rope play, and fisting.”

“
What?
”

“Relax. I told her no fisting on the first date.”

“But we’ll be tied up and spanked. Good. Did you tell her we’re okay with penetration? Vibrators? Dildos? Plugs?”

Evan stole Reagan’s glass and took a swig. “Mhmm. I told her all about the naughty things my girl likes.” He grabbed a hold of her waist and pulled her closer, nuzzling into her chestnut locks.
Fuck
he loved the way she smelled. Like orchids and passionfruit. And the way she was up for anything, anytime. If you’d asked him thirteen months ago when he was at the lowest point of his life if he’d ever find someone who could love and accept him for who he was, he would’ve told you that shit would happen when his cock grew wings. But there she was. Working alongside him all day at Kelman Corporations, practically living with him in his condo, and spending her nights surprising him time and time again by how willing and wild she was between the sheets.

“Have I mentioned how much I fucking love you?” he asked, before tasting her lips. They parted easily underneath his mouth, and he slipped his tongue inside, eliciting a low moan from Reagan.

“Because I’m into your kinky shit?” she asked with a wink.

“Because I’m into
yours
.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Oh, it looks like the third guest to our little party has arrived,” Reagan said, then nipped his lower lip.

“I’m not sure she would consider herself a guest. More like the boss of this evening’s activities.”

As Evan took a step back toward the door, he drew his hand down Reagan’s arm to her fingers, and then let them fall away. She picked up her glass of wine and, as she saluted him, turned to walk into his bedroom on her ice-pick black heels.

Evan watched her go until the knock sounded again, causing Reagan to glance over her shoulder, and the little minx gave a seductive smirk that told him she knew he was standing there watching the sway of her hips in that slinky black dress she’d slipped over her naked body earlier.

Fuck,
his woman was something else. Her hair was spilling in loose curls down the creamy skin of her naked back, and the dress dipped so low at the base of her spine it barely covered her tailbone. It was held up by thin straps, and when she’d shimmied into it earlier Evan had known it would be a fucking challenge not to have her out of it before Mistress J arrived.

Knock, knock, knock.

Speaking of…

Evan took a calming breath and twisted the door handle under his palm. As he pulled open the door, the erection that had been stirring to life stiffened to full attention at the sight that greeted him.

It wasn’t so much the thought of another woman joining him and Reagan for the evening that had him so excited. It was the fantasy said woman represented as she stood there with her purple hair slicked back into a high ponytail. She was decked out in a metallic corset with three buckles from navel to breastbone and a black skintight leather skirt that barely covered her ass. She was eye to eye with him with some help from her wicked hot boots that had heels that even out-stilleto’d Reagan’s. But what was really stroking his fuck stick was the duffel bag the woman had a tight hold of.

Hell yes. Happy anniversary to us. It seems like a year of being good has brought three hours of being fucked bad right to my doorstep.

Mistress J’s heavily lined eyes narrowed, and when she let go of the bag, it dropped to the ground like a shit ton of bricks were stored inside.

“I had to knock—three times.” Her voice was deep and no-nonsense, and as she stepped inside, she ran a long black fingernail down his shirt. “I hope you’re prepared to make that up to me. Now, pick up my bag.”

The point of her nail dug into his chest, and for a moment, he hesitated.

“Now,” she repeated, and this time he moved. The bag had to weigh a hundred pounds, and it had him wondering how the hell she’d carried it.

He kicked the door shut behind him, and as they moved into the bedroom, Reagan said, “A woman after my own heart.”

“You. Get naked.” Mistress J was staring at Reagan, who blinked at her.

“Uh…should we have wine first?” Reagan asked, holding up her glass.

Mistress J crossed her arms over her chest, which caused her ample breasts to almost pop out. “This isn’t a date. And I won’t repeat myself to either of you again. Take. Your clothes off. And face the wall.”

Reagan’s eyes went wide, and she looked at Evan to gauge his reaction. When his lips twisted into a smirk, she downed the rest of her wine and set the glass on the bedside table.

“Mind if we shut those?” Reagan asked, inclining her head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up one wall of Evan’s bedroom. Windows that were still open.

A beautifully cruel smile spread across Mistress J’s face. “I do mind. Strip.”

“Right. Challenge accepted,” Reagan said under her breath, before shrugging out of her straps and letting her slip of a dress fall to her feet. She kicked it away and stared Mistress J down, letting the woman take in every inch of her naked body before slowly turning toward the wall.

Evan whistled and took a step forward. “Fuck me—”

“Not so fast, lover boy,” Mistress J said, as she grabbed the back of his collar. “You get to watch.”

He held up his hands. “I am so okay with that.”

“Of course you are,” Reagan said over her shoulder. “So, what’s first, mistress? Do I get a ten-inch dildo? Some nipple clamps? A clitoral vibrator?”

Mistress J stepped in behind Reagan and took her chin in her hands roughly. “A ball gag if you don’t shut that sassy mouth. Hands on the wall.”

When Reagan complied, Mistress J glanced at Evan. “Be a good boy and make your mistress some hot water. I’m a bit…
thirsty
.”

“You want to drink hot water?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “For my
tea
. And I told you to keep your mouth shut. No questions, just obey.”

Yeah, sure. I’ll just make a pot of tea while you work over my girlfriend. Exactly what we signed up for.

R
eagan stared
at the wall in front of her and tried not to let the sliver of apprehension she had at the words
hot water
snake up her spine. Sure, she was naked and at the hand of a total stranger, but she was also aware that Evan would never place her in harm’s way.

She trusted him…right?
Yes, of course I do.

The light touch of fingertips tracing the top of her shoulder made Reagan want to turn her head and look at the woman behind her, but she didn’t dare move. She’d been instructed to keep her mouth shut, so shut she would keep it.

Dare anyone to say I can’t take a damn order
, she thought. Just because she couldn’t be a smartass out loud didn’t mean she wouldn’t think it.

“You have very smooth skin, Miss Spencer. I believe it will look rather nice with a red tint to it. But…before we get to that, I’m going to tie some rope around your wrists, because you strike me as the kind of girl who needs to be bridled.”

Did she really just compare me to a horse? Ahh, okay.

“Nod if you understand.”

Reagan slowly nodded and expected Mistress J to go to her bag and fetch the rope—but she didn’t. Instead, out of the corner of her eye in the reflection of the bedroom window, Reagan spotted the good mistress pulling a cell phone from her cleavage.

What the…?

Reagan tried to keep her mouth from falling open as she watched the woman’s fingers fly across the screen.

Is she really texting someone?
Now?

Mistress J stood silently for a few seconds and then nodded at whatever the hell flashed up on her screen. Then she tucked the phone back into her corset.

Geez, I’m glad she got her business sorted out,
Reagan thought.
It’s not like I’m just standing here bare-ass naked or anything.

She heard the distinct sound of the mistress’s boots click-clack their way across Evan’s bedroom floor, and then the duffel bag’s zipper echoed around the room. A brief buzzing sounded and then shut off.

Yessss, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.
Reagan tried not to squirm as the mistress ran something solid and cool to the touch up the back of her thighs.

“Bend over and grab your ankles,” came the voice in her ear, and she shivered with anticipation. Leaning down, she held on to the black ankle straps of her heels and awaited the first touch.

Mistress J ran the toy down the back of Reagan’s spine and then farther…farther…until she felt it between the crease of her ass. Mistress kicked her legs open wider and then Reagan felt the toy probe against the tight hole of her—

“Wrong hole, wrong hole!” Reagan said, clenching her cheeks together.
Jesus, isn’t it staring you in the face?

Mistress J slapped her ass. “This is the hole I want.” Then she pushed the toy back into Reagan’s resistant flesh, and the burning sensation as the unwanted object tried to pry its way in without proper lubrication had Reagan shooting up and covering her private bits with her hand.

“Whoa, buddy,” she said. “I’m all about having a good time back there, but that’s a helluva way to say hello.”

“Is there a problem?” Mistress J held up the flesh-colored butt plug. “It’s not that big.”

She stepped toward Reagan again, who put up her hands and said, “Lube. Lube would be good first.”

Mistress J stopped and frowned. “Oh. Right. Very well. Assume the position again.”

“Maybe I’ll just wait to make sure you find it okay.”

As the mistress rummaged through her bag again, the whistling of the teakettle filled the condo before quickly fading.

“This is good for you?” Mistress J said, holding up a pink bottle of lubricant. She popped open the cap, and the scent of red velvet cake filled Reagan’s nostrils.

“Much better.” Reagan smiled and then asked, “You sure you wouldn’t you prefer some front time playtime first?”

When Mistress J pursed her lips, Reagan faced the wall again and bent to grab her ankles.

Okay, so that plug looked a little bigger than the ones she and Evan had used before, and that had always been after quite a bit of foreplay. But dammit, she wasn’t a wimp, and she would take it like a champ. Provided that she was generous with the—

“Oh holy shit,” she cried out when the cold liquid hit her crack. “Did you stick that in the freezer first?”

“No. I did not.” Mistress J said, and though Reagan wasn’t facing the woman, she could’ve swore she had her teeth gnashed together. Mistress J sounded frustrated with her,
but hell,
it was like this was Reagan’s first damn rodeo, and honestly, if that were the case, having a butt plug that looked wider than Evan’s cock jammed up her ass suddenly didn’t sound so appealing.

“Stay as you are,” Mistress J said. “I need to…ahh…do something real quick.”

Reagan whipped her head around to watch the mistress in the window as she turned her back, but before she was fully facing away from her, she saw J reach in her corset and pull out that blasted cell phone again.

Are you fucking serious right now? Here I am with my ass in the air, the blood rushing to my face as I grip my ankles for dear life. Not to mention the view the neighbors across the way are getting of my hole—which thank God I bleached
.

Yes, if one was adding up humiliating moments in life, standing bent in half while Mistress Incompetent made a fucking phone call was right up there.

“Oh. My. God.”

Yep, and now the humiliation was complete. Evan’s voice made it to her ears, and she reminded herself this was probably appealing to the kinky bastard, but then again, he hadn’t seen Mistress J try to pound her like a battering ram.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, Reagan,” he said, and through her legs she could see him walking back into the bedroom with a fucking teapot and cup on a tray like he was about to sit down to afternoon tea and cucumber sandwiches.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Mistress J said.

Reagan watched Evan’s feet come to a halt and then saw the heels of the mistress’s boots as she headed over to stand beside him.

“Your woman is very mouthy. You didn’t mention that during our phone call.”

Reagan wanted to defend herself, but at this stage she figured the fact that the woman being off her damn cell phone was a step in the right direction, and she wasn’t about to break the momentum.

“Now, when you say mouthy,” Evan said, “do you mean mouthy as in she’ll suck a dick like a Hoover, or mouthy as in she won’t be quiet?”

“As in she won’t be quiet.”