Wanton

by Malone, M.

I grabbed the paper and scowled as I read it again. Not only had he listed all the cleaning tasks that needed to be done, as if I wasn’t capable of cleaning up after myself without his help, but he’d actually drawn up a schedule of when we could each use the living room! What the hell? Now I wasn’t even allowed to use the living room when he was in there?

  I threw the list on the counter and pulled a mug down from the cabinet.

  I wonder if Trevor will fine me for using his favorite coffee mug, I thought bitterly. Seriously, what the hell was his problem? I was a good roommate. I even cooked and shared food with him.

  The kiss had been a mistake, obviously. But it didn’t mean he needed to treat me like I had some contagious disease. If he didn’t want to be around me, that was fine with me. But he didn’t need to treat me like some prisoner or an unwanted houseguest. I was paying rent, damn it. Apparently, he thought he was so irresistible that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him if we were in the same space.

  I looked down at the mug in my hands, and then quickly put it back. No, I wasn’t going to take this sitting down. If this was going to work, Trevor needed to learn that I wasn’t some pushover he could dictate to.

  And I knew just how to make him pay. I was heading to the bar. And he wouldn’t know what hit him. So what if I changed into skintight jeans and a low cut top before going out? If Trevor drooled over what he could never touch again, even better. The jerk deserved to have blue balls after treating me like I’d forced that kiss. He’d been just as into it as I was at the time, maybe even more. Unless I’d imagined his hands roaming all over my ass.

  I didn’t bother moving my car, but instead just walked the three blocks, thankful I’d put on my boots with the chunky heel.

  When I walked in, I saw a few familiar faces. It was more crowded now than when I’d first come. People actually did this every night? I couldn’t imagine spending my leisure time hanging out in some douche bar hoping to land a rich guy. Maybe that was judgmental, but I couldn’t help thinking that it made total sense that Trevor worked here. He was probably used to desperate women who’d do anything for a guy with a fat wallet.

  Well, he had better get used to dealing with women like me, the kind who didn’t take any bullshit.

  Once I finally pushed past a giggly crowd of women standing around a guy in a suit, I got to the bar. I scanned behind the bar, but there was only the guy from the other night.

  What if he wasn’t even here? I’d assumed that he was going to work when he left, but he could have been going somewhere else. My anger had probably just forced me to walk over here for nothing.

  Then Trevor came out of the back.

  Immediately, his eyes locked on me. His face hardened, and he tapped the guy behind the bar on the shoulder to whisper something. He nodded and then walked over to me.

  “What can I get for you?”

  I fumed as Trevor turned his back to me. So he’d decided to ignore me? Whatever, two could play that game. He might refuse to talk to me, but he couldn’t make me leave if I was a paying customer. I was willing to bet that he’d get tired of seeing me sitting there eventually.

  “I’ll have one of those watermelon drinks, please. The Ladies’ Orgasm. Thanks.”

  The guy barked out a laugh, then started making my drink, but he paused often to glance over at Trevor. I wondered what Trevor had told him. Definitely not the truth: that his roommate was there to chew his ass out for being a presumptuous prick.

  “Here you go, darlin’. Enjoy.”

  “Thanks.” I slid the drink closer and took a long sip. Immediately, my head started swimming, and I coughed.

  Damn, this drink was strong. Now I really wanted to know what Trevor had told the guy. Maybe to make my drinks so strong that I’d end up comatose? I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I looked up to see Trevor watching me with a little smile on his face. I smiled back. He thought he’d won, but I knew something he didn’t.

  I liked my drinks strong.

  I took several more long sips, and then raised my hand to catch the other bartender’s attention. When he approached, he looked shocked to see my drink was almost gone.

  I grinned. “Another one, please.”

  7

  She was stubborn, I would give her that.

  I stole another glance at Natalie, who was now working on her third drink. This time, the real Dick Lick. I grimaced. I’d asked Martin to work that side of the bar for me, knowing that he tended to make drinks strong. Natalie was a lightweight. I’d figured she’d have one drink, maybe two, and then tap out.

  But no. Natalie looked like she was just getting started. I groaned. I’d have to make sure she got home okay. Even though I didn’t want to talk to her, there was no way I’d let her leave alone after having that many drinks.

  That was probably what she’d been counting on.

  And I was closing, so I couldn’t even claim the need to leave early.

  Martin approached, wiping his hands absently on the towel tucked into his waistband. “Your girl has some staying power. Even I’m impressed.”

  I scowled. “She’s not my girl.”

  Martin just raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry. I just assumed she was an ex or something.”

  “No. She’s my roommate.”

  “And you wouldn’t even talk to her. That’s fucked up.” Martin chuckled as he walked away.

  It was pretty fucked up, I had to admit. I could even admit that it wasn’t fair to blame Natalie for the fact that I found her so tempting. But the only other alternative was to blame my dick.

  As the next two hours passed, I watched as Natalie drank and chatted with the man sitting next to her. I clenched my fists around the glass in my hand.

  The dude was leaning so close that he was in danger of falling into Natalie’s cleavage, all of which was currently on display in the low cut shirt she was wearing.

  I groaned. How was I supposed to avoid thinking about her when she had those luscious tits propped up like ripe fruit? Sweat broke out on my forehead when the guy stood up and whispered something to Natalie.

  What if she tried to leave with him? I couldn’t let her go home with some asshole while she was drunk, no matter how mad I was at her. I put the glass I’d been wiping down behind the bar, ready to go over and intervene if necessary. Luckily, Natalie shook her head and the guy left with one last, longing glance in her direction.

  Yeah, I know, buddy, keep dreaming.

  “Okay, I’m out of here. My dogs are killing me.” Martin patted me on the shoulder as he left.

  That was when I realized it was almost closing time. Natalie waved gaily at Martin as he left, as if they were long lost friends. I chuckled. Considering how many drinks she’d had, they probably were friends by now. I was sure I was going to pay for this tomorrow. Once Natalie sobered up, she’d no doubt give me hell for ignoring her all night.

  But first, I had to figure out how to get her home.

  After cleaning up and locking up in the back, I grabbed my coat and came back up front. Natalie was leaning on the bar heavily, her head propped on her arm. I approached, and she watched me warily.

  “Oh, now he comes over to talk to me. This is just great,” she mumbled. Her words slurred slightly. I was impressed that she was still sitting upright.

  “It’s time to go. We need to catch a cab.”

  “I walked here,” Natalie spat.

  I rolled my eyes. Just my luck that she’d be feisty even when she was drunk.

  “Maybe so, but I bet you can’t walk all the way home now. Come on.”

  “No. I came here because I have something to say. I’m going to say it!” She slipped slightly and had to catch herself by slapping a hand on the bar top.

  Ignoring her protests, I looped one of her arms around my neck. I was prepared for her to hit me, or fight it, but instead she buried her face in the crook of my neck with a little grumble. She nuzzled around for a while, before grabbing the front of my shirt and pul
ling me closer.

  “Why do you have to smell so good?”

  She sounded angry about it, but her hand kept moving over my chest. I ignored the tingles of sensation shooting from my chest down to my groin. I bit my cheek when her hand traveled a little lower and rested on my belt buckle.

  “What are you doing?” I managed to get out between gritted teeth. If her hand went any lower, she’d have a handful of something very hard.

  “This,” she whispered. Then Natalie tugged me down until our lips met in a fierce kiss. I groaned into her mouth, instantly forgetting my resolve to stay away from her, just enjoying the sensation of her hot little mouth sucking on mine. I couldn’t help myself.

  Jesus, she was perfect. Natalie pressed her chest against me and made a whimpering sound that shot my desire through the roof. All I could think about was what it would be like to hear that helpless little sound when she was spread out naked in my bed, while I buried my cock in her pussy.

  It wasn’t until she tried to slide her hands up and under my polo shirt that rationality returned. Hands off. Hands off, I thought. I dragged my lips off of hers and took a deliberate step away from her. Okay, make that two steps.

  “We’re not going to do this. Not like this. You’re drunk.”

  “I am not. Just say you don't want me.”

  I swallowed hard. “You know that’s not true. If we do this, you’re going to be stone-cold sober. You will remember everything about it. Tonight is not that night.”

  She kissed my neck.

  “Wait, Natalie. Come on.” I managed to separate from her lips, but her hands were still roaming all over my chest. “We have to go home.”

  It took a lot of maneuvering to get her out of the bar, lock up, and then flag down a cab. Once we were inside, Natalie tried to climb in my lap. I closed my eyes in frustration. I must have done something terrible in a former life to deserve this, being groped by the one woman I’d decided was off limits. Finally, I allowed her to sprawl halfway over me while kissing my neck. It was only three blocks, but it felt like the slowest cab ride ever. I gave the first two bills in my wallet to the driver, hoping I hadn’t overpaid, all while trying to separate Natalie from my neck.

  “Come on, honey, we’re home.”

  At my words, the disgusted look on the cab driver’s face softened a little. I wasn’t sure why I cared, but I didn’t like the idea that someone thought I was an asshole, about to take advantage of some drunk woman.

  Natalie, however, thought my words were funny. “Honey! I’m your honey? You don’t even like me.”

  Luckily, the driver couldn’t hear that part, since we were already out of the cab. I finally gave up on getting Natalie to walk and just scooped her up. She grabbed onto my neck so hard I almost choked.

  “Don’t drop me! I’m scared of heights!”

  I laughed as I carried her up the stairs. Luck was on my side, finally, since there was only one other person in the lobby. Natalie continued to mumble random things as I carried her down the hall to our apartment. I set her on her feet briefly so I could open the door, and then picked her up again.

  When I got to her room, I pushed open the door, and placed her carefully on the bed. She blinked up at me sleepily, as I helped her get her arms out of the jacket she was wearing. It was too light for the weather, but I guessed she probably wasn’t ready for just how cold the fall season was in Boston. It made me wonder about her life before she came here. Where was she from? Why had she needed a place to live so suddenly? All the questions swirled around my brain as I looked down at her.

  She’d curled up on her pillow, her boots still on. I said, “Do me a favor. Hold on to the headboard.”

  She did as I told her, and I helped her pull off her boots and jeans. She took off her own top. When she went for her bra, I had to stop her. “Oh no, you don’t.”

  “Why don’t you want me?” she whispered.

  I swallowed. If she only knew. “Go to sleep.”

  Blinking sleepily, she finally mumbled, “Please stay.”

  I couldn’t help himself. “Just until you fall asleep.”

  Letting the exhaustion take hold, I was left wondering just who was the beautiful stranger living in my apartment.

  8

  What the hell was a piece of sandpaper doing in my mouth?

  I tried to peel my lips apart and move my tongue back and forth, but all I got was that scratchy shht, shht sound. Gross. What the hell had crawled into my mouth and died?

  I rolled over, and immediately regretted that action, as an elephant delivered a swift kick to my skull. What did I do to deserve this special brand of hell?

  Even as I rolled over, it felt like I had to grapple with a thousand orangutans just to get my body to move the way I wanted it to. That was it, I was never drinking again. Ever. Like never, ever.

  I felt like dirt. Worse than dirt. I felt like the sludgy slime I sometimes saw on the streets after it rained. Yeah, that's what I felt like.

  Just what the hell had I been drinking last night?

  Last night…

  Oh, no. No. No. No.

  I tried to lift my head as a memory tickled the back of my skull, forcing my to recall, teasing me with hints and images of Trevor. His lips. His cocky smile. His hands. His tongue…

  Screw the elephants. I snapped my head up. With that jerky movement, I immediately clutched my skull. But I forced my eyes open as I clung on to the sliver of that memory.

  The bar. We’d been at the bar. I forced my brain to concentrate, even though it clearly didn't want to. The other bartender, what was his name? Martin? He’d been mixing my drinks. Real drinks. Drinks that had copious amounts of alcohol. So much alcohol.

  He’d made all the proper versions of the drinks Trevor had made me the first time I’d visited the bar. They also tasted good, but I could tell there was definitely alcohol in them.

  And this time, I was paying the alcoholic Irish piper.

  I’d been so drunk. Okay maybe not that drunk, but definitely way more than tipsy.

  The memory of Trevor’s lips on mine assailed me. Oh, hell, I’d kissed him? I closed my eyes and tried to focus.

  We’d been in the bar after closing, and… what happened? What did I say? The words eluded me. But the actions, those were clear as crystal.

  He’d been trying to take me out of the bar. I’d looped my arms around his neck, and then, kneeling on the barstool, I’d laid one on him.

  God, even now, the pleasure slammed right into me, chasing up my spine. The lust washed over me as the memory became more vivid. I remembered his tongue, his hands, his low growl as he’d kissed me and licked into my mouth. While he’d slid his lips over mine, his hands had stayed at my hips, grasping tight, as if he was barely leashing the hunger.

  Slowly, the bits and pieces filtered in, and the memory clarified. I’d tried to slide my hands up under his polo shirt, and he’d dragged his lips from mine, stepping back and away from me.

  His words had been spoken through clenched teeth. "We’re not going to do this. Not like this. You're drunk."

  Oh, God, my stomach lurched. Did I have to throw up? Or was the sudden onset of nausea from Trevor’s stinging rejection?

  After a few deep breaths, the nausea passed, and I remembered him putting me in a cab for the short ride home.

  Despite his words, I’d had my hands all over him, trying to convince him that he wanted me.

  Each time I’d tried to slide my hands over his body, he’d just kept my hands gently clasped in his, and eventually picked me up into his arms, and carried me into my bedroom.

  What the hell is wrong with you? First you make the mistake of picking a guy like Brian. Then you throw yourself at your roommate?

  I needed help. Surely, I had some kind of personality disorder. Or maybe you're just a glutton for punishment.

  I glanced at my body, dragging the sheet away from me, and noted that I was in my bra and panties. I’d definitely gotten out of my clothes last
night. Had Trevor helped?

  Just the thought of it made prickly heat spread all over my skin.

  Jesus. I had to apologize, and eating that much crow was going to be seriously unappetizing. But I had to do it.

  Because there was no excuse for last night. I’d gotten way too drunk, and tried to use that as an opportunity to go after something I wanted. Because I’d lost my damn mind, and thought it would be a really good idea to get rid of my sexual frustration with my roommate.

  I heard the shower turn on next door. Great. So he was awake. Well, I might as well get up and put the coffee on. At least I could be caffeinated when I had to eat my morning crow.

  When I pushed to my feet, I heard the moaning from the bathroom. As usual, when I heard him getting his morning workout on, my whole body throbbed just thinking about him.

  Thinking about all those wet muscles in the shower had my hot center pulsing, throbbing, making me want to feel him inside me.

  Jesus Christ, thinking about what he was doing in there was not going to help the —

  "Natalie."

  Holy shit, did he just say —?

  Despite what common sense told me to do, despite what my brain cautioned against, I tiptoed closer to the wall to listen. That's when I heard more moaning and more talking…

  "Yeah, that's it. Jesus, Natalie…fuck…” He growled, then let out a long, low moan.

  Holy shit. All this time, Trevor had been masturbating to me.

  * * *

  I hummed as I served up breakfast.

  I couldn’t explain it, but I was in a hell of a good mood. Last night with Natalie had been…intense. But I had a new way of looking at it now. It had been one of those fluke things. Yeah, right. Any second now, she was going to come out of the bedroom, and things would go right back to normal.

  I’d gotten really good at lying to myself lately.

  The truth was, there was a part of me that wanted to say, “Fuck the consequences”. I’d kissed her twice now. And both times, I’d felt like someone pretty much lit me on fire. She was an itch I couldn't scratch, no matter how many times I went back for more.