Boy #1: The Wannabe Rockstar (Oh, Those Boys) Page 2

  “Oh, fuck, St. John, you should've stopped eavesdropping and hit me up sooner,” he groaned.

  He was standing on his knees, gripping her hips and pulling them up off the bed. She was still wearing her heels, and they dug into the mattress as all her muscles started to seize around him.

  “Holy shit,” she shouted. “Oh my god, right there. Right fucking there.”

  Her orgasm was already a guarantee, it was all around her, ready to break at any moment. And yet still he pushed her even further into sensory overload. One hand smoothed over her hip and moved down over her pelvis. She felt his thumb swimming through her wetness, rubbing along either side of his cock, and then settling in above it. Massaging in small circles, causing her breath to hitch, and just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he pressed the digit down hard.

  “Oh my god!”

  Cassandra screamed as her orgasm was unleashed. She hooked her nails into his chest and screamed again as every single nerve ending she owned burst into flames. He let out a shout as she dragged her fingers down his body, and he held still, impaling her on his huge erection. She shook and sobbed and briefly wondered if she'd ever be able to breathe again.

  Wondered if she'd care either way.

  “Goddamn,” he chuckled when she collapsed into a sweaty, heaving mess. “You really needed a good fuck, didn't you?”

  Cassie's eyes drifted open and she stared at her ceiling, trying to remember what words were.

  “Yes ...” she finally answered. “Yes, I think I did.”

  Without any warning, he started pounding away again. Cass let out a long, low groan, still sensitive from such an intense orgasm. Thankfully, he didn't touch her anywhere else – his hands were firmly gripping her hips again. He was grunting in time to his thrusts, and it was only a matter of seconds before he let out a shout, pressing every millimeter of his dick inside her body.

  It felt like he came forever before he finally collapsed on top of her. They both laid there, trying to catch their breath. Trying to remember what planet they were on.

  “That was ...” she tried to think of what to say.

  “Fucking hot?” he suggested, and she managed to laugh.

  “It was,” she agreed. “And intense.”

  They laid for a couple more seconds. As their sweat soaked skin began to cool down, the chill in the room started to creep in – the heat in the building was spotty at best, and she hadn't messed with the thermostat when they came in. She shivered from under him, and it seemed to break them out of their daydreams. Micah pushed away from her and moved to sit at the end of her bed.

  “That was a blast,” he said, combing his fingers through his hair before reaching for his pants. “I don't know what exactly just happened, but ... happy Valentine's Day, St. John.”

  She snorted and pushed herself upright.

  “God, don't remind me.”

  “I think this was good for you,” he went on, standing and pulling on his pants. Then he started hopping around, putting his shoes on.

  “Good for me?” Cass asked, scooting to the end of the bed, as well.

  “Yeah. You're so uptight. Like this ... prissy goody two shoes, walking around with a stick up your ass,” he told her, turning in circles as he looked for his t-shirt. She folded her arms across her chest and glared up at him.

  “Prissy? You don't know me, Micah,” she reminded him. “Prissy girls don't fuck their dumbass neighbors on a whim.”

  “Please, like this wasn't the first time you've ever done something like this,” he snorted. “Just do me a favor, okay?”

  “I just did one for you,” she growled. He chuckled, found his shirt, and quickly picked it up.

  “Don't go getting all clingy. Having a good dick doesn't make me boyfriend material,” he warned her. “And I'm not interested in dating an uptight bitch.”

  Oh, hell no.

  Cass was on her feet, startling a shout out of him when she began pushing and shoving him. She scooped up his jacket as they swept through her living room, and after opening her door and shoving him through it, she tossed the jacket at his head. He glared as he caught it.

  “Trust me, Micah, I have less than zero interest in a guy like you. This will never happen again,” she informed him. He rolled his eyes.

  “I give it two weeks before you're begging me to fuck you again.”

  Cassie was fuming. He was acting like she'd been the only one to have a monster orgasm. Like it had been little more than a walk in the park for him. She knew better, though; she'd felt him. Had seen in his eyes how badly he'd wanted her.

  She smirked, then raised her hand, pressing it against the door frame. Micah's eyebrows raised as she stood up straight, then jutted her hip out to the side, extending her leg. She stood before him completely naked, except for her spiky high heels, and she wasn't shy. Wasn't embarrassed.

  Not uptight about it at all, asshole.

  “And I give it two weeks before you're begging me,” she said, and when she let out a deep sigh, his eyes followed her breasts.

  “Maybe we just should cut out all that wasted time and go again right now,” he suggested.

  “Take a good, long look,” she suggested in return. “Because you will never get to see this again.”

  And when he opened his mouth to respond, Cassie slammed her door in his face. She smiled to herself, and when she heard him laughing from outside, she couldn't help it. She laughed as well, then went back to her room.

  After she'd brushed her teeth and changed into some underwear and a t-shirt, she finally removed her ridiculous shoes. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the used condom on the floor – he was such a pig.

  After she'd thrown it away, she finally crawled into bed. She was ready to pass out; she wanted to just get through the night without thinking about anything. In the morning, she'd chastise herself for her rash behavior. Right now, though, she wanted to relax in post-coital bliss.

  Before she could slip off, though, she heard a voice.

  “Never is a long time, St. John!”

  Cassie chuckled and looked at the wall across from her.

  “Not long enough, Micah!”

  “Well, next time someone dumps you, don't hesitate to give me a shout.”

  “Not gonna happen. Ever again. Good night.”

  “Night, St. John. See you in two weeks!”

  Cassie laughed again, then rolled onto her side. Shoved her ear buds in and turned on her white noise playlist.

  Ha ha, Micah, now who's begging who? But never again. A one-night-stand is just that, one night. One and done. Never again – not in two weeks, not in four weeks, not ever.

  Turned out, they were both wrong.

  A WEEK LATER, A CAR drove into a transformer at the end of their block. All the power in the neighborhood went out. Cassie had been in the laundry room in the basement of the building, and she'd almost had a panic attack.

  There were utility stairs running up one side of the building, inside the walls, and they were better lit than the main staircase during an outage. Cass had to haul her laundry up the five flights, and by the time she reached her floor, she felt like her head was going to fall off. Just as she was stepping across the landing, though, the door was flung open, knocking her hamper out of her hands. She'd shrieked as she'd watched her clothing bounce all the way down to the fourth floor.

  “Are you kidding!?” she'd growled through clenched teeth. Micah stood behind her, a cigarette clamped between his teeth, his eyes opened wide.

  “Sorry. Didn't want to walk all the way downstairs to smoke. Thought I could sneak one in here – no one ever uses these stairs.”

  “You're such a dick, don't smoke in here! Now help me pick up my clothes.”

  He'd laughed at her, then lit his cigarette, anyway.

  “I'm not helping you do shit. Those are your clothes. You pick them up.”

  An argument quickly devolved into a shouting match, which quickly devolved into name calling, whi
ch eventually led to Cass being bent over an old, out-of-use radiator, moaning loudly as Micah pounded into her from behind.

  Afterwards, he'd still refused to help her pick up her shit. When she'd gotten everything back inside her apartment, she'd shrieked when she'd realized it all smelled like his stupid fucking cigarettes. She hated him. She'd never look at him again, let alone touch him.

  Never.

  Two weeks after that, they'd fucked up against her fridge, the milk he'd come over to ask for spilled on the floor.

  When he'd left that time, Cassie hadn't bothered trying to say “never” again. No. She'd been laying in the puddle of milk, laughing as she'd wiped whip cream away from her chin, and she'd known it was going to happen again. Wondered why she'd ever bothered trying to deny it.

  Micah's always in a good mood, and he's never had a girlfriend. So who says I need a boyfriend? Maybe this one-night-stand can last just a little bit longer.

  1

  Three months later ...

  Cassie St. John rushed around her apartment, trying to drink coffee out of a mug while she collected her stuff. She worked for a large event planning business and had a big event coming up – she was meeting with an event hall owner that morning. She shoved papers and pictures into a leather portfolio, then folded the whole thing shut.

  A small mirror was mounted on the back of her front door, and she gave herself a quick once-over. Her blonde hair was mussy and wavy, not quite brushing her shoulders, and her large, dark green eyes were an interesting cross between serious and bedroom – she either always had resting-bitch-face, or resting-sexy-face, there was no in between. She was running late, so she hadn't bothered with much makeup, just some mascara to lengthen her already long lashes, and a little lip gloss on her pouty lips. It would have to do for the day.

  She rolled her eyes at her reflection, tossed the coffee into the sink, and then ran out the door, quickly locking it behind her.

  She was halfway to the elevator when she remembered her newspaper. If she left it, Micah would steal it. She grumbled and hurried back towards her door. Before she could reach it, though, his door swung open. He peeked his head out, glancing around the hall.

  “No!” she snapped, waggling her finger at him. “Don't touch it! Bad Micah!”

  “It's you! Thank god,” he spoke loudly, surprising her. She came to a stop and stared at him.

  “Uh ... are you okay?” she asked.

  They still virtually never spoke. She hardly knew anything more about him than she had three months ago. He didn't know anything about her, either. They certainly didn't shout exclamations every time they saw each other. Usually it was a head nod or a hurried “hey”, either followed by ignoring each other, or frantic sex.

  He yanked his door open wide and strode over to her. He wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes, and she noticed he had plastic wrap taped around his bicep. He'd gotten a new tattoo on the under side of it, and she made a face at the inky mess.

  “I'm so sorry that I forgot about today!” he was still talking loud, and was holding his arms open. She just kept staring at him like he was nuts.

  “What about today?” she asked. There was a noise from behind him, from inside his apartment. Before Cass could investigate, he closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a bear hug, lifting her onto her toes.

  “It's so good to see you again, sis!”

  “Sis!?”

  “Oh, she's here!”

  Ah. That explained the noise from his apartment. A girl stepped out of the doorway, Cass could just barely see over Micah's shoulder. She was a pretty brunette, very tall and willowy. He seemed to prefer model-types, and this chick fit the bill perfectly. She was wearing a dress that wasn't zipped up the back, and she was walking on her toes, her heels dangling from her hand.

  “Sis?” Cass hissed quietly as Micah finally let her go. He stared hard at her, begging her with his eyes, before turning to face the girl. His arm landed heavily around Cassie's shoulders.

  “This is my sister, Wendy,” he said, gesturing to Cass. She almost gagged, but managed to keep her face blank. “And Wendy, this is ...”

  Cass almost burst out laughing when he came up blank. The girl across from them frowned, then held out her hand.

  “Brookie,” she introduced herself. “I hope your flight was good.”

  Flight? Cass wondered where, exactly, she was supposed have flown in from – she had no clue where Micah's sister lived. Hadn't even known he had one.

  Probably because he doesn't. I shouldn't have to lie to his booty calls for him.

  “It was rough,” Cass sighed. “I was next to this complete asshole the whole time. Long flight, too. Practically felt like I was living next to the guy.”

  Micah's arm squeezed her, his fingers digging painfully into her shoulder.

  “Okay,” he chuckled. “Sorry to have to bail on you, Brookie, but I gotta get Ca-Wendy here settled, and then it's off to church.”

  Cassie literally choked on the laugh that wanted to burst out of her. Micah pounded on her back a little too harshly.

  “Of course! Um, thanks for ... you know, the great time last night,” Brookie was blushing, and Cass wanted to roll her eyes. “Call me, okay? Any time.”

  “Totally,” Micah nodded his head, and he let go of Cass long enough to escort his newest one-night-stand to the elevator.

  When Brookie stood up higher on her tiptoes and shoved her tongue into Micah's mouth, Cass really did gag. She had to turn away. Moments like this made her want to swear off ever sleeping with him again, but she knew better, now. It always happened between them, and probably always would so long as they lived close to each other. They were like magnets.

  Plus, it was just too convenient. She'd been more productive than she'd ever been in her life. She felt more confident, and way more relaxed. Suddenly, all the pressure to be the perfect girl and find the perfect boyfriend was gone. Her sexual urges were regularly sated, so she didn't even feel the need to go out and sleep around. It was really a great set up.

  At least I'm not dumb enough to want to date him. I'm not like these other girls. I'm like him.

  When the elevator doors finally closed on the girl, Micah dropped his head and groaned. Rubbed his hands over his head. He'd shaved it bald about a month ago, and it was covered in thick black fuzz right then. It still felt prickly under her hands, she knew, and made her laugh when she felt it against her thighs.

  “Sorry,” he grumbled as he turned to face her. “I could not get rid of her. Nothing I did worked. When I heard your door open, I panicked.”

  “Did you try 'hey, thanks for the sex, now please get out'?”

  “Not all of us can be as heartless as you, Cass.”

  “Heartless is making these girls think they have a chance with you,” she pointed out. “Just tell them they're little more than cum dumpsters to you, and they'll see themselves out.”

  “See? That's what I love about you, you're like a poet with your words,” he laughed. “Would that all women could be like the benevolent St. John.”

  “Right?”

  “Come on,” he held open his arms again, beckoning her with his fingers. “We were a good team, admit it.”

  “No.”

  “Bring it in.”

  “No.”

  “C'mon, Sis.”

  Cass snapped her hand out and slapped it across the freshly wrapped tattoo. He shouted and jumped back, but too late. She cackled as he hissed and gently placed his hand over the wound.

  “Don't do that again,” she said, bending down to scoop up her newspaper. “I'm not your wingman, okay? If you don't have the balls to deal with these women on your own, then stop bringing them home. Go bang them at their places.”

  “Jesus, can you imagine? I'd probably wind up tied to someone's bed,” he shuddered. “I mean, you've experienced my dick. They'd never let me go.”

  “I have experienced your dick, and I've managed to let you go many a time. In fact, if memory
serves, I've even had to kick your ass out a couple times.”

  “See? More poetry,” he sighed, pressing a hand to his heart. Then he brushed past her and headed back into his apartment. “Later, St. John.”

  “Bye.”

  She got on the elevator without looking back, and spent the rest of her commute to work reading the paper.

  “MS. ST. JOHN?”

  Cassie lifted her head, then gave it a shake to move her hair out of her face. A man was walking towards her, smiling big, his hand outstretched. She smiled back and shook it once he was close enough.

  “Yes. Cassandra,” she offered her first name.

  “Josh,” he introduced himself. “Joshua Cavitt.”

  “Pleasure to meet you finally,” she said, then smiled when he gestured for her to take a seat. “I'm glad to finally see your hall today – I've never been here before.”

  “Oh, really?” he nodded as he sat down, as well. “I figured since we're going to be working together a lot on this event, it'd be a good idea to meet and go over things together.”

  “Of course. Your assistant gave me a tour, earlier. It's a lovely space, and I've heard lots of good things about you back at the agency.”

  “Thanks. I saw the work you did on Senator Blain's wedding reception,” Josh continued. “Flawless. That's why I recommended you for this event.”

  Cassandra was a coordinator for a prestigious event planning company, and the mayor's daughter was having her twenty-first birthday. A big deal. There was going to be a sit down dinner for hundreds of people, a live performance from the National Ballet of Washington, a local band that was a particular favorite of the birthday girl, a DJ, a bar, and fireworks to cap off the night.

  Cassie loved jobs like this one, because they were actually fairly easy. Standard. Dinner, a show, dancing. She'd had to plan events that involved Cirque du Soleil performances, she'd had to fly in ice sculptures from across country, track down rare copies of old films, slip through back doors to convince celebrities to make appearances. This would be a cake walk in comparison.

  It would easily be one of her biggest events – the mayor usually worked directly with Cassie's boss, the owner of the company. But this time around, the mayor gone through the event hall, itself. Apparently, the mayor and Mr. Josh Cavitt were acquaintances. And also apparently, Josh Cavitt had recommended they use Cassie to plan the event.