Innuendos (It Had 2 B U Book 1) Read online

  A Romantic Comedy

  By

  V. Kelly

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2015 by Vanessa Kelly.

  INNUENDOS by V. Kelly

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copy-right reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without written permission of above copyright owner of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Editor: Vicki Foster

  Cover Design: Vanessa Kelly

  Cover art license front melons: Knape (Istockphoto.com)

  Cover art license for back wood: nadnapa (Istockphoto.com)

  Cover art license for back meatballs: martinrlee (Istockphoto.com)

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition: January 2016

  Library of Congress Cataloging-In-Publication Data has been applied for

  Kelly, V

  Innuendos – 1st Edition

  ISBN-13: 978-1518696886

  ISBN-10: 1518696880

  For my husband John

  The man who makes me laugh,

  makes me swoon,

  And holds my heart

  Chapter One

  Breezy

  I have started my own religion. I call it, The Order of the Sacred Sock. That’s right; I pay homage to that woven God of toe warmers. It’s the symbolic barrier that keeps me from seeing what goes on behind the closed doors of my man-whore roommate’s bedroom.

  The sock has become my own personal body guard. It’s a necessity, especially when my roommate, Max, is bringing home a different girl almost every night, or as I like to call them, his barflies.

  The one time I disrespected the sock, I almost lost both of my retinas. There, behind that door, Max was banging Barfly Number Twenty-two. That girl I’m convinced had to be possessed. Nobody’s back bends that way! Yet, there she was, bending in half like Reagan from the Exorcist and howling like some shrieking banshee. I closed that door so fast that the sock started swinging. I was lucky they didn’t notice me. I’m not sure how I could’ve explained why I violated the sock barrier to interrupt their little after bar rendezvous. I actually considered dousing my eyes with bleach to alleviate the lingering foul image of seeing them together. Bearing witness to her snake-like agility in action was just too much for my poor little eyes to take.

  If burnt retinas weren’t enough to make me start my own religion, then having to invest in ear plugs was what sent me over the edge. Max’s little Bordello of Barflies has often been the root of all my nightmares. The sounds that I’ve heard coming from his room are enough to make even the sanest person crazy.

  The only way I’ve survived all these years is by turning the animalistic mating calls of women into a game. I call it . . . what animal will I hear in the bedroom tonight? Listening to other women climax has somewhat turned into a forced hobby for me. A total of fifty-two barflies have gone through that door, and each one makes their own distinct sound while having an orgasm. I’ve heard everything from tigers to pigs and snakes to donkeys. It’s like a petting zoo, only sexually explicit. Most of the time I try to busy myself, so I don’t pay attention to what is going on in Max’s room, but honestly, it’s hard not to. Over the years I’ve realized that Max doesn’t have a female preference. As long as she has a decent rack and doesn’t have a dick tucked away somewhere underneath her skirt, they’re his type—although, he does have some morals when it comes to sex—thankfully.

  I think it was Barfly Five that actually had a golden shower fetish. I’ve never seen Max escort a woman out the door faster than Barfly Five. He didn’t even bother to cover himself up when he came out of the room—she repulsed him that badly.

  There is one perk when it comes to having a man-whore for a roommate, and that’s his ginormous condom stash! His collection is so huge that it fills one of those twenty gallon sized totes and takes up half his closet floor. Okay, it’s not all condoms. There are also some interesting toys and magazines tucked away. I know that when I need a condom, or if the person I’m dating just happens to be lacking protection, I can run into Max’s room and raid his condom box for latex salvation.

  Speaking of dating, it’s borderline impossible for me to keep a boyfriend. Not only is my roommate male, but he also has the body of the Greek God, Adonis. These two factors alone have driven away every guy that I've ever dated.

  I’m on boyfriend number five since moving in with Max. His name is Travis, and we’ve been dating a total of three months. It seems to be promising, but we have yet to have an overnight at my house because of obvious reasons. I like Travis. I think we have something special. I guess that’s why I keep Max a secret. You don’t casually stalk the man for five days, spend hours trying to figure out the best way to approach him, and sweet-talk your way into getting him to ask you out for drinks, only to throw it all away by admitting the mother-of-all bombshells—that you’re living with a male roommate. I’ve learned from my mistakes. There’s no way in hell I’m ever doing that again—at least not for right now.

  Travis works in my building. I’m a legal assistant to a bunch of stuffy lawyers, and Travis works in an accountant’s office. Yes, I’m dating an accountant. Luckily, he’s not the kind that has a stick up his ass. He’s actually quite funny and insanely good in bed.

  Tonight Max is doing his usual primping for the bar, and me, well, I’m getting ready for a hot date with Travis.

  I swear Max spends more time in the bathroom than I do. I’ve been standing outside the closed door, tapping my foot for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for him to open it. When he finally emerges, his ebony hair is gelled into spikes on top of his head, he’s shirtless, and the only thing keeping me from seeing “King Little Max” and all his penis glory is a towel that’s tied loosely around his hips. I try not to focus on the flimsy towel and end up getting mesmerized by a tiny bead of water that is currently playing pinball with Max’s abs. When I finally look up, he’s staring at me, and I’m met with a mouth full of pearly whites. My cheeks heat up, which makes his smile spread even more. It’s an attempt to soften my annoyance of him hogging the bathroom, but unfortunately for him, I am wearing my Max blinders today. His sexy dimple attack will not work on me this time.

  “Sup, Breezy?” He asks leaning against the door frame. I’ve noticed that anytime I look into Max’s beautiful brown eyes, I lose track of time. Sometimes it’s just for a second, other times it’s been for a minute or two, but it happens every single time. I’ve always been partial to guys who have light eyes, blues and greens, but there is something about Max’s brown eyes that just draws you in, makes you swoon, and keeps you captivated. There are days when I wish my best friend wasn’t so hot. It definitely would make things easier for me; nevertheless, I do have to admit that staring at his hairless, chiseled, chest, admiring those damn rippling muscles of his, and ogling his handsome rough features around his face, are great way to pass the time.

  “I have to get ready for my date. Do you mind?”

  “Where is Numbers Man taking you tonight?”

  “He has a name, you know? It’s Travis. I don’t know what he has pl
anned. All I know is that he was talking about taking me out to a fancy dinner or something. I guess I’m supposed to dress up tonight, but I have no idea what to wear.”

  Max pushes past me and marches straight into my room. From this angle I get a good look at his backside and the swell of his ass that is peeking out just above the towel. If I was the typical girl, I would probably be salivating at the mouth from this sight, but since I know how big his head would get if I commented on his physique at all, I keep my mouth shut. I follow him into my room and watch as he sifts through my closet. He emerges with a tight purple dress and matching stiletto shoes.

  “Wear this. You always look hot in this dress.”

  “You know, if you didn’t bang so much pussy, I would swear you were gay.” My smile spreads as his face falls.

  “I’m so not gay.” He takes an alpha step towards me like he plans on proving his manhood right here in the middle of my room. Luckily, I’m the master of deflecting Max’s half-assed attempts to tempt me with his godly looks, whether he’s wearing a towel or not.

  I lift an eyebrow. “Yet, you have a fashion taste that could rival Carson Kressley.”

  He stops stalking me and laughs. “It’s true. I do have a great eye for dressing women, but more so, when my subject is as stunning as you, my friend.”

  “Why Max, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you were flirting with me.”

  “It’s our thing. It’s what we do.”

  Invading my space enough to assault me with his aftershave, Max pushes past me, thrusting the dress and shoes in my arms. As he passes I sniff him, making sure he doesn’t catch me doing it. I’m a girl; unfortunately, even I’m sometimes susceptible to Max’s sexiness. We’ve been friends for the last ten years, and never once has it even remotely crossed my mind to break the friendship barrier between us. He’s hot. He’s just not the right guy for me.

  After an hour spent in the bathroom grooming myself, I think I’ve finally reached the level of sexiness I’m going for. I’m meeting Travis at the restaurant. I don’t want him to know where I live, or to accidently bump into Max, so it’s easier for me to meet him places instead of having him pick me up.

  I study myself in the mirror. I’m pretty sure I look smoking hot right now. In fact, I know I do. I used to be self-conscious about my looks. In high school I was a size or two larger than all my friends. Nobody made fun of me, but I always felt like people were making snide comments behind my back. Those were the insecurities I had hanging out with the popular crowd. I never felt accepted, yet the three most popular girls in school wanted me to hang out with them and took me under their wing. I think Max had a lot to do with it—they all wanted to date him.

  Max and I met during a P.E. class. I failed miserably at hitting the ball during softball, so Max helped me. I loved how he could make me laugh and take away the uneasiness I felt behind the plate. We instantly hit it off, and he never made me feel like I was fat like some of the other guys in school did. From that day forward, we were best friends, and I have him to thank for slowly building up my confidence as we got older.

  During college, I started to jog a lot with Max, and it wasn’t long before my curvy body became lean and fit. I have Max to thank for that as well. As a personal trainer, he makes it his mission to tire my ass out every morning. I’m not sure why he likes making me sweat. It’s not like he gets any of the perks a boyfriend would from making me sweat. We have a strictly platonic relationship—well, besides the weird flirt thing we do sometimes and the occasional cheek kiss here and there.

  Max is my crutch. He’s the guy I lean on when my life unravels around me. He’s my cheerleader when I need him to be and my savior when I need someone to step in. One time I brought a guy home that ended up being a Fifty Shades wannabe. When I started screaming not to touch me as he chased me around the room with a paddle, Max barged in, grabbed that dude by the scruff of his neck, and carried him out of my room like a momma cat carting her kitten. Needless to say, Paddle Man never got another invite.

  See how badly Max distracts me? The minute I start thinking about him, I totally lose all train of thought.

  Back to how I look.

  My long brown hair is in waves around my head and covers most of the backless part of my dress. Yes, this is why this particular dress is Max’s favorite . . . I cannot wear a bra with it. My nose is covered in freckles and spread prominently across my apple cheeks. I notice when I apply a heavy layer of mascara and use this shiny green eye shadow, that it brings out the mint color of my eyes and my freckles seem to stand out more. I used to be ashamed to have freckles, but as I got older, I realized that freckles actually turn men on. To finish off my perfect outfit, a dark cherry lip gloss glistens across my lips, and my face is covered with a one shade too dark cover-up and powder that shimmers against my skin.

  Yup, I definitely look hot.

  When I emerge from the bathroom, I hear the quick intake of breath coming from my left. I look over and find Max standing in his doorway. He’s wearing a bright blue button up shirt over black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up so that they show off his massive forearms. Did Max just do one of those breath intake thingies that people do in the movies? Nah! Not my Max.

  I do a little turn and show him my outfit. “As always, I must pass the five steps of Max’s approval. What do you think?”

  He grins and takes a step towards me. “Hair is cute,” he says, taking the end of one of my wavy locks and twirling it around his finger. “As always those adorable freckles of yours are flirting with your nose.” He steps around me. I feel his arms glide down my forearms and gently grab my waist.

  Now I’m the one sucking in my breath. Goddamn him and his irresistibleness.

  “The dress is clinging to your hips just right, though, I do wish it dipped down a little more so I could see what panties you’re wearing.”

  I swivel around and smack his arm. “Who says I’m wearing any?”

  His eyebrow twitches in approval, “Will you let me check to make sure?”

  I smack him again, harder this time. “Stop it, Max. That’s three steps. Two more.”

  His hands immediately thrust out towards me, and I can see he’s going to grab my breasts.

  “Uh uh, funny guy, hands off my melons.”

  “But how am I supposed to assess step four if I can’t squeeze the melons?”

  “Use your imagination. I know you have one. I’ve heard all about your role playing.” I raise an eyebrow and laugh.

  “Hey, you pretend to be a cop one time in the bedroom and suddenly you’re a role player.”

  “If the cuffs fit, wear them.”

  He chuckles, “Fine, no melon squeezing. I’d say they pass the test, seeing how your nipples keep taunting me from beneath the fabric.”

  I gasp and look down. Sure as shit, my nipples are waving to him like a couple of happy sluts—those traitors. Deflecting him with my usual grace, I shake off the sudden heat between my thighs and give him my best smile. “What about step five?”

  “Trust me, Breezy. I can honestly say that you never fail the five steps, even when you wake up at five o’clock in the morning with bed head and eye boogers.” He taps my nose and walks away.

  “Eye boogers? Really? You’re such a card, McGowan.”

  “Card? What are you, fifty?”

  “Going on twenty-seven,” I say with a wink. “Okay, I’m going to be late. At least I know that I will always have your approval.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and grab my purse.

  “Hey, Hicks! Make sure he treats you nice tonight. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks, Max. Have fun tonight, and remember to please use the sock!”

  “You forget the sock one time and suddenly the girl is traumatized for the rest of her life,” he mumbles to himself.

  “I’m sorry. I still swear you had sex with an alien that night. Human girls just don’t bend that way.”

  “They do when I get ahold of them.” He returns
my wink from earlier, and shoos me away with his hands. “Get out of here, silly girl, before I tie you up to my bed and show you what you’ve been missing.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” I grin and quickly run out the door. I know he’s just doing his normal flirting thing, but for some reason that twinkle in his eyes seems a little bit more dangerous. How do I know this? Because I was ten seconds away from the heat between my thighs turning into a liquid. Damn it Max! Why do you have to be so damn handsome and charming all the time?

  Chapter Two

  Max

  Shit! I just made the worst mistake ever! Why did I pick out my favorite dress for her to wear? Watching Breezy walk out the door was pure torture for me. That girl is my Achilles heel. If only she knew how much she drives me crazy. For the last ten years, my best friend has been the epitome of the perfect woman: intelligent, graceful, funny, incredibly sexy without even knowing it, and completely off limits. Yup, I friend-zoned myself for the sanctity of our relationship. I will not cross that line, no matter how badly my dick wants me to.

  So how do I satisfy my Breezy denied dick might you ask? Easy! I turned myself into a man-whore. It’s not something that I’m proud of. In fact, there have been several occasions where I questioned my sanity because of how much pussy I get. The reality is, by immersing myself in the puss, I forget how badly I’m attracted to my best friend and roommate. I know she doesn’t care about my revolving door of hoes, but unfortunately, I feel bad about it every damn time it happens—and it happens a lot—like every other night.

  There are downfalls in my plan to distract my cock. First of all, there are the monthly STD checks I have to give myself. I’m on a first name basis with my doctor. His name is Al, and frankly, I think he’s a little too amused by all the stories that I tell him while we visit.

  The second downfall is that my condom stash has to be constantly replenished. I’m pretty sure I was the spokesman for Trojan there for a while. I got so fed up with buying condoms all the time that I’ve actually made it a habit to visit places where they give them out for free. Now my stash is ginormous and a little intimidating when you think about it. That’s a lot of sex to live up to. The good thing is that I know Breezy will always be taken care of. As much as I hate the idea of her dating anyone, at least I know she stays safe. The last thing I need is for her to get knocked up by some asshole and have him steal her away from me, for good.