by Kata Čuić
“I was thinking either Chinese or pizza delivery. Your choice.” He picks up his phone from the coffee table, then waits for my word.
“Ooh, so romantic,” I mumble, focusing again on the text blurring in front of my increasingly dry eyes.
A hand appears between my gaze and the words, then forces the book onto my lap. “You keep trying to do and say petty things to piss me off, but it’s not going to work.”
“I stand corrected. Calling me petty is far less romantic than dinner delivery.”
He brings his face in line with mine. That stupid smirk would make me angrier if it didn’t look so damn good on him. “I know what it’s like to lash out when you’re at the end of your rope. Unlike the people I treated badly in the past, I deserve whatever you’re throwing my way. I can wait until you’ve burned out all your anger.”
There he goes, playing the poor pitiful disfigured card again. I hate it has any effect on me at all. “Just order the Chinese and leave me to my studying.”
He dares a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Keep being such an agreeable good girl, and I’ll even reward you later with multiple orgasms.”
I gape at him in shock as he taps his phone, presumably to order our dinner. He hasn’t hinted about anything sexual, let alone joked about it. A horrible thought occurs to me. Maybe that’s exactly what will send him running again. He told me he liked sleeping in my bed, enjoyed being in my space, and would be the best boyfriend ever. Yet, even after my admission of enjoying what he did to me, he hasn’t gone beyond spooning me in bed while we sleep. I want to test him, to push his buttons until he cracks. I want to know the truth. “And you say I’m insulting you? I’m a woman, I’ll have you know. Not a girl. And I can reward myself with orgasms with that handy vibrator in my top nightstand drawer.”
He cracks up laughing at my unintentional pun. “I wouldn’t mind watching you take care of yourself again.”
Damn. My plan has been solidly foiled. Time to try harder. “The point is I don’t need rewards from you when I can just as easily reward myself. I don’t actually need a man for an orgasm.”
He nods, all the while concentrating on his phone. “Mmhmm. Just like I can jerk off. Good for us.”
That does it. My brain boils with rage. I launch myself off the couch, tackling him to the floor. The sound of his phone clattering in the distance filters through my haze of anger. It could be shattered for all I care.
He doesn’t fight me or flip me beneath him the way he would with an opponent in the ring. Simply lets me cover his body with my own, laughing the entire time. The sound pours gasoline on my already blazing flames.
“Sometimes I just want to strangle you!”
He quiets, focusing his gaze on me with a searing intensity. “Now you know how I feel about you.”
A growl creeps up my throat. “Why are you even here, then?”
“Waiting for you to admit you want me to be.”
“I hate you,” I hiss against his lips.
“At least you don’t love me.”
“I can’t stand you.”
“I can’t stand you, too.”
Any more words are lost in a tangle of lips, teeth, and tongue that only makes me burn hotter. I don’t even know or care who initiated the kiss. There’s nothing romantic about the way we tear at each other’s clothes without any sort of foreplay. Every movement is violent and fraught with an underlying sense of animosity. I pull off his shirt and elbow him in the eye. He tugs down my leggings and swats my ass. Hard. I claw at the stupidly defined ridges of his abs. He tries to keep me quiet by engaging my tongue in a duel.
The ceasefire lasts mere seconds as he rolls a condom that he retrieves from the pile of his clothes near the coffee table onto his length.
I have a sneaking suspicion he’d be grinning like a victor as I slide down onto him, but I can’t check because my eyes roll in the back of my head at the sensation of him filling me so completely. I want to savor every second, every glorious inch, but I dare not put the brakes on this. At any second, either of us could snap back to sanity.
I’ve never done this before—never taken control this way—but it’s so good, anxiety about my performance refuses to surface. Jason might be thinking I’m too chubby, too rough around the edges without any makeup or curled hair, but I don’t care. I’ve never had any aspirations of being a cowgirl, but I’m living them out now as I ride him for all I’m worth. The week of tension bleeds out of my muscles with every drive down his length. Thankfully, nothing comes out of Jason’s mouth to distract me from my singular goal of release. One sarcastic comment from him, and I may be as likely to punch him as I am to come.
His moans are the soundtrack to my pleasure. With my eyes closed in ecstasy, all I have to go on is touch and hearing. He squeezes my breasts just a little too hard, kneads my ass in his big hands, grunts when I grind myself against his body for more glorious sensation. I’m so close but holding off because I don’t want it to end too soon.
“Emma, I can’t hold out much longer.”
“Just let go,” I moan. I don’t care if he finishes first. I’m enjoying this too much to end it.
He bolts upright, seating himself deeper inside me. There’s no hope of holding back now. Waves of bliss roll over me, my pulse thunders in my ears, and my limbs tingle from overuse.
His mouth seals over mine, swallowing my cries. He latches onto my hips, alternating driving into me between speaking. “Don’t want to let go. Want to hold on forever.”
I’m already spent, draped over him like a human curtain until he finds his own release. He trembles beneath me, then goes lax, pulling me against him in a slack embrace.
Time loses all meaning as I float between sated sleep and a hint of shameful reality. Not only do I need to get back to a regular gym routine, but I obviously need to work on my anger issues.
“You’re going to have to let me up, eventually.”
I groan in response.
He chuckles, reverberations tingling between my thighs and hot breath washing over my neck. “I can’t get used to how quiet you can be. If you don’t say something annoying soon, I won’t be able to keep up my end of this bargain.”
“You hate when I talk,” I mumble against the musky, sweaty skin of his neck. I’m tempted to lick him, to have dessert before dinner, but my body won’t respond to my mind, which is too busy contemplating all the ways this is so wrong, even if it feels so right.
“Sometimes,” he murmurs into my hair. “Just like sometimes you think I’m an insufferable asshole.”
“It’s not supposed to be this way,” I whimper.
He adjusts his position until his legs cradle me in the center of his lap, then he swipes his flat palm up and down my back in a soothing motion. For being so averse to hugging, spooning, and cuddling, he’s surprisingly adept at comfort. “Did I hurt you? I tried to let you have all the control tonight. I know I messed up last time and was too rough with you.”
“It’s not about the sex.”
“What’s it about, then? My face?”
I pull away and loosely wrap my hands around his neck, shaking him a bit in a mock strangulation, just as I’d threatened. “So, help me God, if you mention your face one more time, I’m going to castrate you. Then, you won’t have to worry about sex anymore.”
He smirks but makes no move to pry my hands from his windpipe.
I release my hold, then wrap myself around him, crossing my ankles at his back, burying my face into his neck and tucking my arms beneath his. “This. Us. Love isn’t supposed to happen this way.”
Surprisingly, he makes no more promises he can’t keep. He doesn’t even tease me. His voice is clear and serious. “What is it supposed to be like?”
“Like a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky. Something that happens when you least expect it. But, once it strikes, you can never go back to the way you were before. Can’t ever imagine your life without that electricity. It’s not supposed to be so gradua
l, you didn’t know it was happening. It’s not supposed to be this comfortable and easy. It’s not supposed to feel like your favorite blanket, fresh out of the dryer, when you thought you’d lost it in the first place.”
I feel his body shake beneath me in silent laughter. “I thought I was the English lit major? Shouldn’t I be reciting poetic lines about love to you?”
“Please. Like that would ever happen.”
He laughs harder. “You’re right. I’d never write poetry for you. I have a little self-respect.”
“I’m not holding my breath for cliché romance, that’s for sure.” Except I kind of am. At least a little. I need this to be different; I can’t be Jason’s therapeutic sex doll the way I was for Kieran. It’s not that I’m afraid of failing in my role. I don’t want to let Jason go when this is all over.
As if knowing my thoughts, Jason kisses my head. “I’m actually relieved to hear you say all that. I was getting a little worried.”
“About what? I already told you I was falling in love with you.” Which was a stupid admission I’m still kicking myself over. I just blurted it out with no regard for the consequences of my words.
“I never pegged you as wanting to live out an enemies to lovers fantasy. Friends to lovers seems more your speed.”
“Don’t be so sure. I shouldn’t want to strangle you as much as I want to mount you,” I mutter.
“Aww, come on. Where would the fun be in that?” He spanks my ass lightly. “Look at it this way. We’ll never get bored with each other.”
I pull away to glare at him directly. “You’re not selling this very well.”
“I don’t have to.” He grins. “You can’t resist any more than I can.”
“I still hate you.”
“And I still weirdly enjoy that. What I would not enjoy is for dinner to arrive while we’re naked on the floor.”
I climb off him like he’s on fire, my eyes wide. “You already ordered it?”
His laughter sounds loose and relaxed as he strolls to the bathroom to get rid of the condom while I gather our clothes in a panic. “I confirmed the order just before you tackled me. The delivery guy should be here any minute.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I screech, nearly toppling over as I wiggle into my leggings, not caring they’re inside out.
“I tried,” he calls back. “But, you were reciting love sonnets, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I’m going to kill you in your sleep!”
Just as I pull my t-shirt over my head, the door swings open and Rosie appears, wrinkling her nose. “Why are you threatening to kill him in his sleep when it so obviously smells like sex in here?”
I growl in frustration and stomp toward the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of air freshener from beneath the sink. Dear God. The door wasn’t even locked. We had dirty, filthy sex on the living room floor, and anyone could have walked in. That man makes me lose my mind. Not necessarily in a good way.
Jason reappears in the doorway of the bedroom, thankfully dressed in fresh clothes. I wasn’t even aware he’d stashed some in my room. “Pay her theatrics no mind. She’s just hangry. Dinner will be arriving any minute, then she’ll revert to her naturally sunny disposition.”
I spray Febreze at him.
Rosie watches as I race around the living room, deodorizing, straightening up, and generally trying to make it look like a hate fuck didn’t just take place. My cheeks burn in mortification, imagining her, imagining what we did.
Jason answers the knock at the door, pays for our food, then sets up the little white cartons on the coffee table. “Here you go, babe. Enjoy fantasizing about all the ways you could maim me with chop sticks while you eat.”
“How do you know I’m not going to daydream about poisoning your food, instead, babe?”
He shakes his head but seems unconcerned as he plops back in his spot on the couch and dives into a container of broccoli chicken. “That’s a little dark for you, Sunshine.”
“Gross.” Rosie pretends to gag as she sits by Jason and reaches for my dinner. “How many pet names do you two have for each other?”
“She was calling me Master a few minutes before you walked in.” Jason laughs with his mouth full of food.
“I was not!” I grab the first thing within reach—a throw pillow—and lob it at his head. He swats it away, still laughing like the insufferable asshole he is.
“While this inside look into the reality of your relationship is highly entertaining, what I really want to know is what you two are wearing to the Holiday Bash.” Rosie scarfs down my cashew chicken, glancing between us like this really is the most important question she needs answers to.
Jason frowns. “I’m not going to that stupid dance.”
Of course not. Knowing his thoughts on all things Greek life on campus is precisely why I haven’t even asked. And in all fairness, ever since the Fall Opener party, I can’t really blame him.
Rosie looks at him like he’s plainly stupid. “Um, you have to go. Even if you two are banging for real now, everyone else on campus needs to see you as the picture-perfect couple outside this apartment. What’s the point of screwing with Kieran, otherwise?”
Her reaction strikes me as odd. For someone who was so intent on playing matchmaker between us, she doesn’t seem as excited as one would expect to discover our relationship has moved from fake to real.
Is it even real? Or, am I falling for more lies again?
The worst part of this situation is never being able to take anyone’s actions or words at face value. After that one disastrous reveal, there’s a real possibility of losing myself, too, no matter how hard I’m trying to fight against it.
“I guess you make a fair point,” Jason muses. “But, I don’t think I’m going to get the same reaction dressed up in a tux as I do shirtless in a fighting ring. Kieran’s not going to be threatened if I go to the Wellbridge Ball.”
“You have to go,” Rosie insists. “You’ll ruin everything if you don’t. We’ve worked too hard for you to throw it all away now.”
Even Jason seems taken aback by Rosie’s vehemence. He glances to me for back up. “If Emma doesn’t want me there, then I’m not going. Simple as that.”
Maybe Rosie has been talking with Kieran, too. He already smelled blood in the water the week Jason and I didn’t speak. Her insistence might have very valid reasons. “She’s right. I know you’re not a fan of these kinds of events, but if we don’t go together, everyone’s going to wonder why, Kieran included. We can’t afford that kind of scrutiny if we have any hope of ending this game before the year ends without anyone else getting hurt.”
I’ve already given up hope of getting out of it before the winter break. Too many people have been caught in the crossfire already. The sooner we take down Kieran and Hayleigh, the better.
“Fine. I’ll go.” Jason throws his head back against the couch in defeat, then promptly begins coughing until his eyes water.
Rosie eyes him suspiciously. “And you say Emma is theatrical? You can’t fake sick to get out of this, mister.”
The lower half of his face turns an unhealthy shade of red, rivaling his birthmark. His coughing changes to wheezing. He puts his hands to his throat, reminiscent of the way I tried to strangle him earlier.
“Oh my God,” I breathe before rushing into action.
“What the hell is going on?” Rosie yells.
“He’s choking!” Performing the Heimlich maneuver on a man three times my size isn’t easy, but after several pumps against his hard chest, a piece of chicken flies across the living room, landing against the wall with a wet thud.
Jason bends over at the waist, coughing louder as he regains the ability to breathe.
Rosie stares at him with wide eyes. “Did that really just happen?”
“New promise,” Jason gasps. “I will go to whatever stupid party you want for the rest of my life.” He collapses onto the couch, then pulls me into his lap and buries his f
ace in my neck, inhaling deeply.
Rosie looks decidedly perturbed over seeing us act slightly more lovey-dovey. “I guess someone saving your life trumps all other desires.”
“Nope.” Jason places a kiss on my collarbone that sends shivers down my spine. “She already saved me a long time ago. I’m still learning not to fight it when she tells me to do something. That was a wake-up call.”
I bristle a little. He makes me sound like a dominatrix. I don’t tell the man anything. Sure, I might ask nicely, wheedle, or whine, but I’ve certainly never blackmailed him into doing anything he didn’t want to do the way Rosie has.
He thrusts his half-eaten carton of broccoli chicken under my nose. “Here. Have the rest of mine. You didn’t eat yet.”
Rosie gulps, then guiltily stares at the empty carton still in her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eat all your dinner.”
I push away his offering. “You’re just giving it to me because it tried to kill you.”
“I’m giving it to you because I’d give you anything,” he whispers in my ear. “And I’m definitely going to do my damnedest to give you those elusive multiple orgasms, too.”
“I only had one,” I hiss back at him, acutely aware Rosie is watching our interaction with interest.
Jason laughs. “The night’s still young. And I’m still alive. It’ll happen, I promise.”
Rosie sets the empty container on the coffee table, then stands, wrinkling her nose the way she did when she arrived. “I don’t want to know what he’s promising you. As long as you promise me you’ll both show up to the Holiday Bash, then my work is done for now.”
“We said we’d be there already, sheesh.” He wraps his arms around me and settles us more comfortably on the couch. “Why are you so convinced this fancy party will make a difference for us, anyway? It’s not like there will be a fight that night. Kieran’s always been kind of a loner in spite of his popularity. He might not even show up.”
“True. But, other people will be there.” She gazes pointedly at me. “After last week, you two need to make a good show of being a unified front.”