by Aja Cole
“Lookin’ a little tired old man, guest room’s free.” Brandon nods at me, and I decide that might be the best plan of action.
Walking in through the basement sliding doors, I keep the lights off, knowing the layout of the house well enough. There are side stairs that lead from the basement to the second floor, and I take them, keeping my footsteps quiet.
I pad down the hallway, yawning. I shake my head. It’s like 4am. Used to be that I didn’t run out of energy for days. The door’s ajar to the room I usually take, and I slide through.
But someone’s already here.
And looking for something.
Leaning against the wall, I roll up my sleeves and watch as a delectable ass wiggles. Very nice first impression. Inspiring.
She’s bent almost all the way over, cursing as she goes through a large basket. I creep up, fighting laughter as the woman mumbles.
“You’re a goddamned idiot. Clearly you need more excitement in your life. I thought he said there’d be women’s clothes in here. Why is this so difficult?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re in the wrong room.” I whisper, giving into laughter when she screams bloody murder and tips over into the basket. She stands up, basket stuck over her tits and jerks around, trying to throw it off.
“Oh my god!” she yells, “I can’t get it off.” I feel like half a bastard laughing, but it’s so damned hilarious. While I let her flail around a few seconds more, I take in her body.
She’s average height. Brown skin that has an alluring glow to it. An ass that sits high and round, begging me to cup it and tits I could easily imagine sliding my cock between while I hold a hand in her silky dark hair.
And her voice…Her voice sounds familiar, but I haven’t heard it enough to place it.
Maybe my night isn’t over after all.
“You know that’s laundry, right?” I tell her, gripping the bottom of the hamper and easily pulling off her. She swipes her messy hair out of her face and I blink at the same time as her mouth twists into a grimace.
“Kaija?”
“Harlan.” Her tone is unimpressed while mine is surprised. “I’d hoped I didn’t run into you tonight.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms.
“This is my friend’s house.”
“I’m aware.” She sniffs.
“The attitude would work better if I hadn’t just rescued you from an evil laundry basket.” I smirk.
“I’ll be leaving now.” She starts to make a move to step around me but I block her path, nodding at her soaked top.
“You gonna keep that wet shirt on just to get away from me?”
“Yes.” Annoyance is heavy in her brown eyes and it’s not what I want to see. Not when I’ve got a golden opportunity right in front of me.
I step closer, backing her against the wall and putting my hands on her hips.
Reflexively, her hands go to my forearms like she’s going to push me away, but she doesn’t.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you get you out of this shirt.” I tease my fingertips under the edge and rub my thumbs over the soft skin above her hips.
Her chest rises and falls as she takes a deep breath, but doesn’t say anything to stop me.
“I think I can take a shirt off by myself.”
I slide my hands up her abdomen, holding her just under the cups of her bra but going to further.
“So tell me to stop.” I lift the bottom of one cup with a fingertip and caress the underside of her right breast, watching her face in the low light.
She stays silent, and I slide my hands around to the back of the bra, unhooking the clasp. I grip the bottom of the t-shirt and lift it up, taking it and the bra off as she raises her arms.
“If I remember correctly, you were cussing at me the last time I saw you.” I drop to my knees, and there’s enough height difference that I’m still at the perfect height to do exactly what I want.
I nuzzle my face against her nipples, and feel her slide a hand through my hair.
“I was cussing at you for good reason.” She murmurs. “You were rude.”
I bite down, testing what she likes, and when a moan spills from her mouth - I grip just a little harder then sooth the nub with my tongue before doing the same to her other nipple.
I’ve been dreaming about getting my mouth on her for what feels like forever. I could split rock with my dick right now.
“Your nipples would look even more amazing with bars.” I pinch them between my fingers, liking the way she’s holding onto me.
“There is no way a needle is going near my nipples.”
“I think you’d like the pain.”
“I think you’re a lunatic.” She moans the words, and I stand up, taking her with me and she anchors her legs around my waist automatically.
“You’re right, I’m crazy about your body right now.” I playfully lick her shoulder as we tumble onto the bed and I’m in the perfect place to grind my hips into hers.
“This doesn’t mean anything. This is a one off.” Hooking her ankles together at the small of my back, she talks against my lips and I groan, delving my tongue inside her mouth and kissing her until her grip is tight on my scalp.
I pull back and slow rock our hips together, enjoying the heavy-lidded look on her face, watching those shining deep pink lips part on small gasps.
Fuck.
You’d think it’s not possible to have any blood left to rush to my dick, the wood I’m sporting right now.
“You think one time would be enough?”
“I think it would have to be, because I still don’t like you and I still don’t like what you said.” I stop nipping down her neck like I’ve been doing, because her husky voice isn’t just laced with arousal.
“Are you really still mad?”
“Yes. You think the fact that I want to fuck you negates my anger? I promise you it doesn’t. So, let’s go ahead and get this out of the way and I can go about my life and forget you exist.”
Well, shit.
That is not the thought process I want this woman to have about fucking me.
Uncontrollable lust…can’t think straight…can’t form words…yes.
Getting it over with? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
I sit back on my knees, staring down at her. She crosses her arms and sets her mouth in a firm line.
“Alright. Let’s talk about it.” I haul her up before she knows whats happening and switch our positions, leaning back against the headboard and settling her onto my lap.
“Okay, let me up and we will.”
“We talk, we do it like this. I wanna make sure I don’t miss any of your terrifying glare.” That earns me an even deeper scowl and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
A mad, topless woman in my lap.
Not a bad way to end the night.
8
Kaija
The universe is testing me, obviously.
And I’m failing miserably.
The minute we got to Brandon’s place and I overheard him talking to Harlan, I said I would get the hell on.
Poof.
Disappear.
Dissolve into a pile of glitter and blow away in the wind, avoiding any and all interaction with the man.
Yet somehow…somehow…
Here I am.
Topless and trying my best to hold onto the little anger I have about what he said to me at the airport, to hide the fact that if he told me to get on the ground and bark, I’d do it.
That if he told me he would give me the world, I’d believe him.
That he has a hold on me unlike anything I’ve ever felt before and I almost prefer the terror of being kidnapped to this feeling of being so aware of one man.
How do people do it?
How do people just give themselves so completely over and over again, dating and loving and intertwining their lives with fickle human beings at the drop of hat.
I’ve never
been able to wrap my head around it. Not since what happened.
I’ve watched it from afar, counseled friends on issues I know shit-all about, and never been in danger of falling into the same trap myself.
Until now.
I feel it.
This unexplainable feeling of something unfurling inside of me and peeking above the edge, intrigued. Interested. Ready for whatever the possibilities are.
And I don’t want it.
I don’t need it.
I cross my arms stubbornly, grateful the fog of lust has receded a little bit and I can wrap myself fully in annoyance.
Little hard to take myself seriously when my nipples are still tender and my legs are wrapped firmly around his waist, but we’re rolling with it.
“I’m not interesting in sleeping with anyone who so obviously thinks the worst of me.”
He folds his massive arms behind his head, linking his fingers and leans casually against the dark headboard, his face unreadable. Like he’s settling in.
“And what do I think of you?”
“You called me a gold-digger and a social climber, not to mention you implied I was a cheater.”
He purses his lips together like he’s thinking.
“I was a little horny and a lot of annoyed at the situation. I might’ve been out of line.”
“Might’ve?” Good, something I can latch onto.
“I’m only 98% perfect.” His eyes are laughing and I tear my eyes away, then have to look somewhere else again because my gaze lands on those damn forearms again.
“You must have meant Imperfect. I still haven’t heard an actual apology.”
“And you won’t.”
My jaw nearly drops. All the audacity in the world!
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a firm believer in not apologizing unless you really mean it. And I wouldn’t mean it.” He shrugs like it makes total sense and unfolds his arms, moving to touch me but I swat him away.
Now the annoyance is completely real.
“It sucks that you felt insulted by it, but my opinion would stand about you if you were dating Charlie. Which I thought you were. I am sorry I called you a cheater, though.”
“You’re actually the worst.” I swat his hands away again and untangle myself from him, scrambling off the bed.
“Oh come on, really?” Like some disappointed teenage boy who finds out he’s not gonna get to have sex after prom.
What the fuck is my problem?
“If you see me again, I want you to pretend you don’t.” I snatch my shirt from the floor and wrestle it over my head. It’s still wet from the drink that spilled on me, but oh well. Small price to pay. “Forget we met. Forget this happened.” I circle my finger in the air.
“You think you won’t want me even more the next time we see each other?” I see the flash of his teeth in the dim light, and I can just feel my blood vessels throbbing. “You can keep running away. I’m not gonna chase you. You have my number when you get tired of entertaining men you don’t really want.”
“At least Charlie was raised with a little more home-training and his ego can fit into a room. Yours is like a third, unwelcome person.” I toss back as I slam the door, flying down the stairs and back to where everyone is.
I look for Mickey, but I don’t see her. She’s probably busy getting reacquainted with Brandon. I’m not gonna be a buzz-kill and make her leave with me, because she would.
I grab my sweatshirt from where it was laying over a chair and palm my phone, calling for another car.
I have ample time to stand outside and think about the fact that I almost slept with an immature prick. And worry about why even with that, even with what he said…the further I get away from him, the bigger the pit in my stomach gets.
Hope. That’s gotta be what it is.
It’s nothing more than thinking that for once, maybe I could let myself feel a little more than usual. Maybe I could have someone I was interested in and someone who got me sexually and I wouldn’t have to choose one or the other.
Stupid.
I don’t even know him. I don’t know what kind of person he is, if he goes to church on Sundays or if he hates his mother. If he’s got siblings, if he donates to charity, if he supports social justice. If he likes lazy mornings and hates mushrooms.
You can’t miss something that was never anything to begin with.
I’m sad about the potential, is all.
For great sex, of course. Nothing more.
And I keep repeating that to myself all the way back to my house, and as I crawl into bed alone.
Again.
9
Kaija
“You look terrible.” I walk into the house and ignore Jasmine’s greeting, going straight to the kitchen.
“Thanks, kid.”
Miss Karen is standing at the counter, rubbing her forehead, and straightens when she sees me. Her smile’s just as bright as it is in the beauty pageant pictures on her mantle, with a face that’s aged just barely. Soft black curls frame her face, brushing her slim shoulders.
“Kaija Nicole.” She’s walking towards me and opening her arms and I sink into them immediately, inhaling that always subtly nutmeggy scent and the special comfort one gets from grandmothers.
“Hey Miss Karen, how’s your day going?”
“It’s going, honey. I’m about to head out to the center, but I’m glad you got my message because I want to talk to you about a few things.” Am I imagining her voice sounding more tired than usual? Maybe I’m projecting.
I need a good 12 more hours of sleep.
I pull out a chair at the table and plop down, smiling gratefully when Miss Karen slides a coffee cup in front of me and a small plate.
I close my eyes reverently, pulling the plate closer. It’s cinnamon cream cheese coffee cake with streusel. It’s still a little warm from the oven and I could just moan right now.
“If you ever looked at a man the way you look at my coffee cake, you wouldn’t still be single.” She sips from her mug, pomegranate green tea instead of the mocha coffee she always has for me.
“But that’d be cheating.” I slide my fork through the crumbly goodness, and try not to shove my face into the cake itself.
This is the only right way to start a morning.
We sit in silence for a little bit, and when Miss Karen sits her mug down and leans forward, rotating it in both hands…I know it’s time for whatever she wanted to bring up.
“So…you know I’ve been seeing James for about a year now.”
“Ahhh yes, how is Mr. Rollins?” I grin, shaking my cup a bit to move around the chocolate.
Is that a blush on her face?
“He is very good. We’re thinking about traveling, finally.”
“Oh? Like a few days vacation?”
“Mmm more like a few months…maybe years.”
“Wow.” I put my cup down, swallowing. “That’s pretty serious.”
“I’m not getting any younger, and…now seems like a good time to have a little more fun. Explore.”
“Good, that’s good.” I nod, feeling conflicted.
I want Miss Karen to be happy, and James makes her happy.
But she’s always been in my life in some capacity, and it’s a bittersweet feeling to think of it being any different.
She watched me as a child sometimes, and then I started volunteering at the rehab center where she worked when I was in high school/college…after I went through my rough patches.
She was a very large part of me getting my shit together.
“I can’t say I won’t miss you, but you deserve a little downtime, we both know that.”
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“You’re making me nervous.” I put the fork down, my stomach knotting. “Are Laurie and Yani okay?”
Miss Karen has fostered kids for years, almost as long as I’ve known her. Some cycled out, got placed with families that adopted them. Others like
Laurie and Yani came in too young to age out of the system but past the usual age a lot of families wanted to adopt.
For them, Miss Karen tried to be a guiding figure rather than full on parental. They’re both level-headed girls, just needed a little prodding to stay on track.
Now they’re a freshman and sophomore in college, and they’ll usually stay with me for a few days when they’re home on break.
“Of course, they’re fine. I want to talk about Jasmine.” She hesitates.
She should know that nothing would surprise me at this point.
We’ve both seen far too much.
“If you keep me in any more suspense, I might pass out right here. This isn’t good for my digestion.”
She rolls her eyes, pursing her lips and looking towards the living room.
“You know what Jazz’s home situation is like, and she hasn’t said anything, but I fear it might be worse than she’s letting on.”
“Do you think it’s time to involve CPS?”
“I don’t know. She spends enough time here that I’d know if she had bruising or was withdrawn, but I can’t know unless she talks to me. But I’m leaving…” she trails off.
“And you want me to find out, and watch over her while you’re away.”
“Yes. She spends time with you anyway, but I wanted to make sure it’s okay that she comes to your place and has someone looking out for her still.” We both look up as Jasmine comes into the room, and she glances between us, shaking her head.
“She’s roped you in, hasn’t she?”
“It didn’t take much persuasion.” I wink, scowling when she plops down in another chair and slides my plate towards her. “You know there’s more in the oven.”
“But yours is right here.” She smiles sweetly, shaking long hair out of her face. “I for one, am very excited to disrupt your life.”
“Yeah, I bet. I’m looking forward to more consistent insults and you eating my food.”
“See? We’ll be fine. Now, go get to packing and get out of here soon before you change your mind.” Jazz tells Miss Karen, pointing my fork at her. “You worry too much.”