Once Upon a Real Good Time Read online

  Like I’m . . .

  It hits me.

  He fucks me like I’m his guitar.

  He can make whatever music he wants with me. He can strum any song with his cock and his fingers and his filthy mouth.

  I pant as his words turn simpler.

  So fucking good.

  So hot.

  Want you to come.

  And I do.

  It’s like a flash of lightning across the summer sky, and then thunder, and I have no idea right now which one comes first, thunder or lightning, or lightning or thunder, or me.

  I cry out as bliss curls inside my body.

  When I open my eyes, he has a wild, wicked grin lighting his face. “Hop off and bend over the counter, Sunshine.”

  That sounds like a command I want to obey. I do as he asked, and he slides back into me and goes to town, gripping my hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass, his cock driving deep.

  He owns this fuck. He gives this fuck. He gives all the fucks in the universe. He gives them to me. A spark spreads up my spine, over my shoulders, into my hair.

  Then, I feel a sharp smack on my ass. It sends a dart of pleasure through my body. “Oh God.”

  I’m rewarded with his palm on my ass again.

  One cheek. Then the other. A thrust, a swat, a drive, a smack.

  He rides me hard, spanking and swatting until I’m coming again.

  He grabs my hair in a fist and tugs it, and that caveman act prolongs my orgasm and seems to unlock his. He’s rocketing into the same zone, and he’s not quiet.

  Fuck.

  So good.

  Fuck me . . .

  Coming so hard.

  I believe there’s a gold standard now for one-night stands.

  Not for me.

  But for the world.

  No one has ever had a one-night stand better than this.

  Chapter 6

  Mackenzie

  * * *

  We’re in my bedroom. I’m not entirely sure how we wound up here. Possibly, this sexy man might have carried me.

  As I lie next to him, moonlight filtering through the windows, I posit a question. “Do you know if it’s possible to turn into a limp noodle after great sex?”

  He strokes his chin. “I believe it takes several orgasms for that to occur.”

  “Too bad I only had three.”

  “Three’s enough for limp noodle. Four will reduce you to jelly.”

  “I’m willing to become jelly.”

  He laughs and nuzzles me, planting a kiss on my throat.

  Oh dear. He’s cuddly. That’s not good because it makes me want to keep him, and I don’t think that can happen.

  After all, this is one night only, and I’m fine with one night.

  He runs a hand along my hip in a way that makes me want one night more. “Incidentally, giving you orgasms is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done.”

  I arch a brow. “It is? Why’s that?”

  “You come fantastically.”

  I cover my face with my hand, a surge of embarrassment rushing through me. “That sounds—”

  “Hot? Sexy? Incredible? The way you come is a thing of beauty. You’re the most beautiful comer.”

  I laugh. “That’s not a thing.”

  “It should be.”

  I prop myself on my elbow, my head in my hand. “Did you know the average female orgasm lasts twenty seconds and the average male one is only six seconds?”

  “And yours are sixty seconds?”

  I laugh again. “Why do I think you’re exaggerating for the sake of your own ego?”

  He scoffs. “Sunshine, my ego is solid thanks to that hat trick. But don’t blame me for enjoying giving you triple doses of pleasure.”

  I smile. “I don’t blame you.”

  He turns to his side, meeting my gaze. I half expect him to grab his briefs, check his Twitter feed, and tell me he has to bounce. Instead, he says, “Tell me another sex fact.”

  That I can do. Easily. “We just burned two hundred calories. That’s the average burn rate for thirty minutes of vigorous sex.”

  He pumps a fist. “Excellent. Fitness and fucking. A twofer.”

  “Also, it only requires two tablespoons of blood to get the average penis erect.”

  “So mine required ten?”

  I swat him. “If yours took ten, you wouldn’t be inside my body. You’d have ripped me in half.”

  He drags his fingers from my breasts to my belly. “Glad you’re intact.”

  I set a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast still. “Also, during orgasm, the heart beats at one hundred forty beats per minute.”

  “And resting is around one hundred, right?”

  I nod.

  He covers my hand with his own on his sternum. “Is it still beating fast?”

  He asks it with surprising tenderness, and a sweetness that makes my heart flutter. “Yes,” I whisper.

  For a fleeting second, I wonder if this can be more than a one-night stand. I picture dates and fun times together. Heartbeats and orgasms. Lunches and dinners and trivia nights.

  I slam on the brakes.

  I can’t travel down this road. It’s twisty and dangerous. My life isn’t arranged for romance. It’s not designed for dates. It’s perfectly calibrated for being a mom and a business owner, and that’s it.

  Which is why this path feels even riskier when he places his palm between my breasts and says, “Yours is beating fast too.”

  It’s best to move away from beating hearts. “That was the first crazy thing I’ve done this summer, and summer’s nearly over.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “This was crazy?”

  “Completely crazy. This was my son’s first summer away at camp, and I spent most of the two weeks he was gone catching up on movies and working.”

  “What sort of work do you do?”

  “I’m a graphic designer.”

  He traces my hummingbird tattoo. “Did you design this yourself?”

  I nod. “I sure did.”

  He presses a kiss to it. “It’s hot and sexy and drew me to you like a beacon. Also, I’m glad I could corrupt you with craziness for the night. Being a parent does limit the crazy, right? It’s not like you can run out for pizza and beer at two in the morning when you have a sleeping kid.”

  “Exactly. Usually you want to be asleep too. But there was this one time in June when my son and I went out for milkshakes and fries at the way late hour of ten o’clock at our favorite diner. That felt like the height of insanity.”

  He smiles. “So wild. If you ever want to go really crazy, you need to try Willy G’s Diner in Murray Hill. It has delicious milkshakes and the gooiest grilled cheese sandwich you’ve ever had.”

  I put a hand on my belly. “I think my stomach rumbled just thinking about a great grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “Now I’m thinking about calling Willy G’s and seeing if he delivers here.”

  I laugh. “What about you? Is that the sort of thing you normally do? Grab yummy diner fare late at night?”

  He laughs and runs a hand through his thick hair. His voice is a little gravelly, and I like that post-sex sound. “My late-night activities usually involve playing with the band once or twice a week and testing baked goods for my daughter’s videos.”

  “Does she have a baking show?”

  “She makes videos for Snapgram. Or Instachat. Or Latergram, or something like that. And I’m her tester.”

  “That’s definitely wild.”

  “I’m not sure if she does it because she likes baking or likes making videos about baking.”

  “That’s so meta.”

  “It is, but she’s a good kid. I can’t complain.”

  “Mine is as well. He only reads bios of sports stars if they’re good guys and treat their wives well and don’t have criminal convictions.”

  “True role models, then?”

  “Exactly.” I glance down at Campbell’s nak
ed frame, the tribal bands on his arms, the sunbursts on his biceps. He’s so far removed from my every day, and yet here we are having the most normal of conversations. “I can’t believe we’re in bed discussing our kids.”

  He props himself on his elbow. “It’s kind of nice.”

  “Honestly, it is.”

  “But you know what would be even nicer? If I could put you on your hands and knees and give you a fourth orgasm.”

  A shudder runs through me. “I’m all for Os, but I thought I was giving you a blow job. That rain check and all?”

  He arches a brow. “The way I see it is like this—if I don’t cash it in tonight, that means I can get another date with you.”

  My body goes still. I blink, then stare at the gorgeous man sprawled out on my comforter. His skin is golden, his arms are covered in ink, and his jaw is neatly lined with stubble. He’s a master at playing my body, but I never expected this brand of fun would last beyond one night.

  “You want a date with me?” The words come out jerkily.

  He laughs lightly. “Is that such a crazy idea?”

  “It might be crazier than anything else. I thought for sure this was a one-night stand.”

  He wrenches away. “Do you want it to be one?”

  I don’t have to contemplate. I know the answer, even though it scares the hell out of me. I’ve had the best time tonight, and I want another scoop of ice cream.

  It’s risky, but maybe I can pull off the balancing act. Two dates won’t mess up my neat and orderly life. “I want it to be two,” I whisper, my heart racing a little faster.

  He smiles and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Good. I do too.” His lips travel across my collarbone, and I tremble as he leaves goosebumps in his wake. “Now, about that fourth one . . .”

  He flips me to my hands and knees, but before he locates a condom, he presses a kiss between my legs.

  Ohhhh.

  That’s something I want to feel again. And again. And again.

  I moan like a cat. It’s that good, that spectacular. He licks me in this vulnerable pose, one I don’t normally imagine myself in. He puts a hand on my back and pushes me down while pressing a hot, wet kiss between my legs that sends electricity all through my body.

  When I cry out, he pulls away, hunts for a condom, and spreads me open.

  “I think you’re ready.”

  He takes me again.

  Oh yes, Mama is having fun tonight. This is an epic end to my summer, and I couldn’t be more ecstatic as he rides me to the edge of another orgasm. A few minutes later we lie there, naked and sweaty and sated.

  “I’ve achieved jelly status.”

  He pumps a fist. “Excellent.”

  “What comes after jelly?”

  “Six orgasms equals brain-turning-to-melted-chocolate-for-a-full-day.”

  I nod, as if I like the idea. “I’d be amenable.”

  Then I yawn.

  A massive, drive-a-truck-through-it yawn.

  “Want me to go?”

  “I have to wake up really early,” I say.

  He slides out of bed. “Let’s make sure you get your beauty sleep. But I am very serious about wanting a second date.”

  Another yawn hits me hard while I’m smiling stupidly. “I want to see you too.”

  He pulls on his clothes, and I tug on a T-shirt and sleepily walk him to the door. He drops a sweet, soft kiss to my lips, and the tenderness of it tells me this is something more. This isn’t a one-night stand at all.

  We exchange numbers, and as I open the door, I blurt out, “I never asked more about you being a musician. I was too caught up in your dirty poetry to ask more questions.”

  The corner of his lips curves up. “I’ll tell you more when I take you out. Go to sleep, Sunshine.”

  One minute later, there’s a text from him.

  * * *

  Campbell: Sleep well, and may you have many dirty dreams about me.

  * * *

  I float to my bedroom and engage in the dirtiest of dreams all night long.

  Chapter 7

  Campbell

  * * *

  Ever have sex so good it robs you of the power of rational thought? Yeah, that was me last night.

  Maybe I should’ve told her my other name. Possibly I should’ve been a little more detailed about what I do. But she didn’t really seem to care one way or the other, which was nice. Besides, I can tell her on our second date.

  But JJ thinks I should have told her everything, and he’s letting me have it as we run the next morning in Central Park.

  “I’m just saying she might want to know who you really are.”

  “I’ll tell her when I see her again.”

  My drummer disagrees with my logic, scoffing. “You know how women are. You truly think she’s going to be just fine and dandy learning you’re not really Campbell?”

  “I am really Campbell. News flash—Mason Hart was a stage name.”

  “But you’re still Mason Hart. It’s not just a name.”

  “I’m Campbell. And Mason is just a name.”

  He shakes his head as we power up a hill. “Not to women. That shit matters. My wife pretty much demanded to know what JJ stood for on our first date.”

  “Ouch.” My breath comes hard as we near the top of the hill. “Did you tell her?”

  He nods. “Hell, yeah. I knew I wanted to see her again. So I laid it all out. ‘Just Joking,’ I told her.”

  “Bet that went over well.”

  He smacks my arm. “Dickhead, I told her it stood for Jonathan Joseph, and I never ever wanted to be called that. She never has, but she appreciated I was upfront. So I bet your girl is going to be a wee bit ticked.”

  I wave my hand dismissively. “I’ll sort it out when I see her again.”

  “Hope she’s not pissed.”

  “She won’t be. This woman was cool.”

  I picture Mackenzie and her wicked fast brain, her naughty lips, and her eagerness. She was wild and sexy and so much fun. I went into the night expecting nothing but a good time, and I left wanting seconds and thirds.

  Sex does fuck with the head.

  I should know.

  My sneakers slap against the dirt path around the park. “It’s not like I lied about anything. Campbell is my first name, and Evans is my last name.”

  JJ cracks up, clutching his belly as we run. “Yeah, and you went by Campbell while you were serenading millions of teenyboppers and their moms in stadiums and arenas.”

  I laugh. “I’m not that famous.”

  “You were back in the day.”

  I point at him. “Operative words. Back in the day. That was then. This is now. That’s not my life. That’s not who I am. It’s not even who I want to be.”

  “I hear ya. I get that you have some logic operating in your favor. But I still think you should have told her she was about to bang a former teen idol.”

  “Rather than an aspiring moonlighting guitarist and a violin teacher?”

  I’m greeted by another series of guffaws. “Nothing you do is aspiring, Campbell. You were born a music prodigy, and you’re still one.”

  We’ve been friends since middle school, since I was a runty kid and he was a pimply one, through my years singing and touring with both my brothers, and after the trio broke up.

  Since we stopped, I hardly feel like the guy I was before.

  In many ways now, I am only Campbell Evans, music teacher and music tutor, teaching violin to some of the most talented students in Manhattan. I’m not the guy who wowed millions when he was seventeen and then tragically lost his daughter’s mother when he was only twenty-three.

  Now, I’m simply a regular single dad in Manhattan.

  Well, for the most part.

  Chapter 8

  Campbell: Good morning, Sunshine.

  * * *

  Mackenzie: Good morning to you too.

  * * *

  Campbell: Did you sleep well?

  * * *
>
  Mackenzie: Let me put it this way, I’m incredibly sore.

  * * *

  Campbell: I should feel guilty about that, but I can’t find it in me.

  * * *

  Mackenzie: I thought you might like knowing that. Caveman :)

  * * *

  Campbell: The caveman in me is grunting triumphantly.

  * * *

  Mackenzie: Also, last night was kind of incredible.

  * * *

  Campbell: Kind of? Only kind of?

  * * *

  Mackenzie: You know it was worthy of eight gold medals in one Summer Games.

  * * *

  Campbell: Dude, did you just give me an easy trivia question?

  * * *

  Mackenzie: You’re worried I went easy on you, rather than compared you to Michael Phelps?

  * * *

  Campbell: Fair enough. But I’d like to keep earning those golds in making you scream my name. When can I take you out? Are you free this weekend? Are you busy with your son?

  * * *

  Mackenzie: Can I get back to you on that? I think I can on Saturday night, but let me check. Because I’d like to find time to achieve melted chocolate status with you.

  * * *

  Campbell: I see I’ve unleashed a monster. :)

  * * *

  Mackenzie: Evidently.

  * * *

  Campbell: Say something dirty to me now.