Sex Machine: A Standalone Contemporary Romance Read Free

the room, I stand motionless in the middle of a nicer-than-expected kitchen. What the hell am I doing here? Did I really go to the bar Blake Dempsey frequents and ask him to fuck me? “You’ve lost what’s left of your mind, Honey Carmichael.”
    I could cut my losses and leave while he’s in the shower. Sure, the few times a year that I run into Blake at the grocery store or post office or at the home of a mutual friend would be awkward from now on, but I can live with that if it means saving some face.
    My cell phone chimes with a new text message that jostles me out of my temporary paralysis. Digging into my purse, I pull out my phone. From Lauren: No matter what, don’t chicken out. You’ll be sorry forever if you do. Trust me on that!
    As always, Lauren’s timing is impeccable. Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it, I call in the pizza order and then take a beer from the fridge. If there’s ever been a time for liquid courage, this is surely it.

Chapter Two
    A girl walks into a bar and shocks the shit out of a guy … Not in a million years did I expect this day to turn out the way it did, with Honey at the bar asking me to fuck her.
    I run a razor over my face, and then, thinking of Honey’s flawless complexion, I do it again, though if this encounter goes all night, it won’t matter. My beard grows back fast.
    So Honey Carmichael has finally gotten around to me. It’s taken long enough. Honey is the one girl from my childhood who never threw herself at me after I grew from a scrawny kid into a man with man-sized appetites. Rather, she’s remained an enigma as she worked her way through several other guys in town.
    I’ve wondered—more often than I’d ever admit to anyone—why she seems to date every guy but me. Is it because there’s always been a spark of something between us, something potentially incendiary, or is it just me who feels that? Doesn’t matter now, I decide, as I step out of the shower and grab a towel.
    For once, I actually bother to run a comb through my hair and slap on some of the face lotion my mother gave me for Christmas. And with that, I’ve done three times as much to prepare for this evening with Honey than I have for any other woman in years.
    Honey Carmichael .
    As I think about the night ahead, my cock twitches in anticipation. Will she taste as sweet as she looks? Will her breasts be a perfect handful, or are they as big as they seem? What color are her nipples? And is the honey color of her hair the real color? I can’t wait to find out.
    With one last look in the mirror, I conclude that I’m as presentable as I ever am and head into the bedroom. Shit! The sheets! I can’t remember the last time I changed the linen on my king-size bed. Moving quickly, I grab clean sheets off the closet shelf and make fast work of putting them on the bed. Then I pull on a pair of gym shorts and go out to see what trouble Honey has gotten into in my absence.
    I find her nursing a beer and flipping through the photo album of my childhood that my mother gave me for Christmas.
    Without looking up at me, Honey says, “You were an awfully cute little boy.”
    “You should know. You were there.” I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know her.
    “You were very mean and aloof back then.”
    That surprises me. “Was I?”
    “Uh-huh. I used to go home and tell my Gran that you’d been mean to me.”
    I sit on the sofa, keeping a reasonable amount of space between us. I have to eat before I touch her, because once I start, I won’t stop until the sun comes up. Thank God tomorrow is Saturday, and I’ve given my crews the weekend off after a month of seven-day workweeks. “I was mean to you? When?”
    Honey lets out a delicate-sounding laugh that catches the attention of my restless cock. He can’t wait to get in on this party. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “You used to chase me around the playground and pinch me until I cried.”
    “I