by Kat T. Masen
And when he works nights, it allows me to get my secret girl business done. The stuff I did behind closed doors when we were roomies. Things like plucking hairs in odd and random places, placing my feet in moisturizing booties while I lie in bed and watch re-runs of Charles in Charge. Then, with a bag of Cheetos, I secretly gush over how cute Scott Baio was, my fingers orange after eating the entire bag. A guilty pleasure Drew will never understand, Cheetos being the devil’s food according to him.
Drew is lying on his stomach. The sheets are pulled down exposing his back muscles and sitting just enough to cover his cute and toned little man ass.
I lie back down and turn to face him staring and wondering how I got so lucky. Things haven’t always been like this between us. That whole ‘roomie’ thing turned out to be four years of pent-up sexual frustration on both our parts. Finally, being in a relationship means we get the best of both worlds. We already know each other and are best friends, so the anxiety of being with someone and having your secrets spill over one drunken night is happily not needed. He knows everything about me, witnessing my not-so-proud moments, and vice versa.
And the best part—we still experience that whole butterfly thing.
Flying back into the country and admitting my feelings for him started a chain reaction—a sexual chain reaction. It’s like we needed to make up for four years’ worth. There were days where I could barely walk because my vagina was on the verge of broken. Seriously, I needed a closed-for-repair sign hanging so I could recover. Drew, being the witty doctor, had an answer for that. Any hole’s a goal.
And that it was.
That first day when I returned, he took the entire week off, and we never left the bedroom. Okay, so I’m exaggerating just a little. We left the bedroom for the shower, kitchen, and sofa, all of which had one thing in common—sex.
Drew’s like no other man I’ve ever been with. He’s a mixture of raw yet attentive. He knows me inside and out. He pleasures me in ways I never imagined. Everything between us is so perfect, and him proposing is the icing on the already delicious cake.
Everything he did that night outdid my expectations of what that moment would feel like from the trail of empty pizza boxes leading to the balcony to the eight gold pineapples scattered amongst the tealights. And then, standing there so handsome in my favorite navy suit professing his love for me followed by handing me the most beautifully crafted canary-yellow diamond ring.
Can this man be any more perfect?
And let’s pull out the doctor card again.
Drew oozes sex appeal like no other man. The number of times he comes home dressed in his scrubs looking like death ran him over makes me want to jump on top of him and make sweet, passionate, dirty love. And to think of all the times he slept in the room beside mine, and I never touched him. Worse yet, the number of times other women touched him, and I’m all like “Hey, let’s have a chat while you make me the best breakfast of my life. We can be besties just to annoy manwhore Drew.”
Don’t go there. Every time you mistakenly get lost on the trail to jealousy, you emerge as a wicked witch destroying everyone in your path. You know he has a past of manwhoring. It’s actually your fault he was one since you pushed him to climb out of his shell.
“Are you going to continue staring at me or take your shirt off?”
His voice startles me, his eyes closed with a wide grin spread across his face. He has one of those masculine jawlines like he belongs in an aftershave commercial. All I want to do is run my tongue along it and feel his slight stubble graze against my skin.
I wiggle my body across, throwing my leg over his. Something he often complains about because my body is always warm.
“Are you going to open your eyes to watch me take it off?”
He moves his hands toward my mouth, placing his index finger against my lips. “Too much talking, more naked, please.”
I sit up again, my back toward him and slowly remove my tank while his hands slide around my ribcage moving effortlessly as he cups my breasts. A moan escapes my mouth while enjoying the sensation of his touch as he plays with my nipples. I lose myself in his gentle caresses until my body jerks back without warning. He forcefully pulls me to him until I’m flat on the bed allowing him to hover over me.
“I think I need to fuck you right now,” he bellows, wild-eyed like a hungry beast.
“That’s what you said five hours ago.”
“Well, I needed to fuck you then, and I need to fuck you again.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be holding off, you know, until the wedding?” I ask with amusement, giggling underneath him.
Resting on his hands still hovering over me, he’s quick to shut down the idea.
“Let’s see, the last time I checked, you weren’t a virgin,” he points out. “And trust me, baby, I wish you were. Nothing like the thought of another man with his hands all over you.”
I let out a cough on purpose along with the word ‘manwhore.’
“Did you just call me what I think you called me?” he asks, shocked yet putting on an act.
“If the shoe fits…”
“I’ll answer your question one more time.” He lowers his head into the crook of my neck kissing that one spot just above my collarbone that drives me insane. He’s playing dirty. “Since no date has been set, the answer is no. It’s like depriving the world of pizza. Why would you do that if you could click on that app and order in less than thirty seconds?”
“Are you comparing having sex with me to ordering pizza?”
“For it to click in your crazy brain, yes, I am.”
“So, what you’re saying is if I give up pizza until the wedding, you’ll give up sex?” I confirm, riling him on because I know he will have zero restraint when it comes to not touching me.
“I never said that,” he argues back, applying more body weight on mine. “Perhaps I’m not making myself clear. No.”
I begin to open my mouth only to be distracted again. His body is firmly against mine, groin rubbing along my sensitive area as feverish kisses grace my exposed chest. The familiar groan—a sound so beautiful to my ears—escapes his throat.
I’ll be the first to admit I’ve become somewhat lazy in the bedroom—happy to lie back and take it all. Drew never complains, and why would he? He devours my body like it’s a shrine. With his tongue running across my skin and flicking the sensitive tips of my nipples, my back arches on cue waiting for him to enter me.
“Fuck me, now, please,” I beg with desperation.
He remains silent caressing the curves of my breast as his teeth gently bite down on my nipple, enough to make me moan even louder.
“Impatient, aren’t you?” he asks, cocky and sure of himself.
I smile, unwillingly, bringing his head up to mine until our eyes meet.
“Yes, I am. Still want to marry me?”
His eyes dance in delight, flickering back with hope and love. With a wide grin, he moves his face inward and our lips touch—a simple kiss that travels to every point in my body and makes me melt underneath him.
“Try stopping me,” he says with a grunt, inserting his cock inside me as I begin to come undone.
***
“Oh my gosh, Zoey!” Mia throws her arms around me, squeezing me tight as I struggle to breathe.
Mia, my close friend, just returned from Greece. Her husband, Troy, had traveled with her on their last trip before their baby was born. I waited for her to return, so I could finally share the good news.
It is early Monday morning, and both of us are preparing for a new employee to start today. Looking extremely uncomfortable, Mia shifts her body on the chair and attempts to cross her legs to no avail. She doesn’t make pregnancy look appealing. From day one, she’s complained about nausea, gas, indigestion, and every other bodily ailment you can name.
Despite her pregnancy complaints, I enjoy working with her, and we have become such close friends.
When I returned from London,
I set up my own small business using the knowledge and experience I’d gained overseas. However, a month later, Mr. Becker, my former boss, offered me a position I couldn’t refuse to run the office here in San Diego while he moved to Colorado to set up a new office.
It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. The money that comes with a new title is a nice perk. Drew told me to negotiate some terms—throwing in a car plus allowing me to still build my business on the side. Here’s the thing, I hate negotiating. I’m always afraid of rejection and would mentally climb into a hole of sheer embarrassment given the chance.
But thanks to Drew, I stood my ground. I asked Mr. Becker, and he said yes without any hesitation. Perhaps my positive experience got to my head a little. Given my newly-found confidence, I found myself bartering the strangest of things including pizza from the joint down the block. Pepe was quick to shut me down, but eventually, he caved and added the extra pepperoni at no expense.
“Describe everything. All details except for when he screwed you afterward because I know Drew’s a horny guy so leave that out.” Mia wraps her hands around the cup of tea pursing her lips against the steam as she waits in anticipation for me to talk.
I walk her through the whole proposal, down to the way he had scattered the tealight candles. And of course, I left out the grand finale when I asked him to take me then and there in his dashing navy suit. Suits do this thing to my libido. There’s nothing hotter than a man in a suit. Especially when he is my man. The poor neighbors must have heard us. I’m not exactly the quietest when it comes to being pleasured by my fiancé.
“So, do you have any ideas yet? Dates, dresses, venue?”
My coffee—extra strong—sits in my Pac-Man mug teasing me with its delicious aroma, a gag gift from one of my co-workers. The joke, however, was on her. The mug is awesome, and I use it several times a day. Taking a sip, the caffeine easily makes its way down giving me an instant boost of energy or so my body thinks. Drew drinks coffee to stay awake on the job but often complains that I drink only the cheap stuff and should switch to something more exotic. Coming from someone who’s all about being organic, I find it highly amusing.
“A couple of ideas, but to be honest, I’m trying to let it process. It’s surreal.” I look at the ring that sits on my finger smiling at the piece of perfection Drew chose.
“What does Drew think? What does he want?”
“I don’t think he cares,” I tell her. “He’s so busy at the hospital, I’m not sure what time he’ll have off. Planning a wedding seems like a big deal. I probably should start thinking about something.”
I hated lying to Mia. And I’m not sure why I am in the first place. The wedding’s all I can think about. Secretly, when Drew falls asleep, I Google wedding dresses online. I also downloaded a complete wedding checklist after I saw how much a wedding planner would cost.
“I’ll come around tonight and drop off some wedding magazines so you can get started.”
“Sounds great.” I smile, reaching out for the last cookie in the jar in front of us until Mia snatches it from my hands like the Cookie Monster. Okay, I’ll give her a break. The baby needs it. Plus, I should think about going on some kind of pre-wedding diet. God forbid if I don’t fit in any dresses.
Mr. Becker walks into the kitchen with a gentleman beside him. The man—easily in his thirties—is quite an attractive guy. I’d say he’s six-foot-two with a very muscular build underneath his charcoal-gray suit. He isn’t wearing a tie—his two top buttons are undone exposing very tanned skin. My instinct tells me he’s not from around here. And I wish I would stop staring at his hair. It’s almost like a silver color mixed with dark blond and styled perfectly like he just stepped out of GQ.
“Zoey, Mia, please meet Slater Richards,” Mr. Becker introduces him, and funnily enough, he carries the same surname as me. Now that’s going to be confusing in the office.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Richards.” I extend my hand, shaking his while finding it odd to call him by that name.
“Ah, the other Richards.” He smirks, still holding onto my hand firmly. “I’d hate to think we’re related. Just call me Slater.”
The British accent stuns me, and in the corner of my eye, I am certain that Mia has completely melted into a pile of mush. She has a thing for accents.
Mr. Becker, who rarely shows any emotion, laughs hysterically like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Perhaps I’m missing the punchline. I turn toward Mia as she shrugs, a blank look on her face.
“Trust me, I’d know if we were related. My mom has spent years researching our family tree hoping to be related to a royal.”
“Slater will be working alongside Zoey. He’ll be running the new project downtown…” Mr. Becker stops mid-sentence, distracted by his cell ringing. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”
We stand in awkward silence as he talks on his cell. I really wish Mia could read my mind right now, so I could tell her to mop her drool off the floor. She’s married. Troy, her husband, works in our IT department and would, no doubt, have something to say about this.
The call finally ends, and Mr. Becker continues the conversation about the project downtown. It’s very exciting and something I’ve been dying to sink my teeth into.
Slater talks about his experience back in England, and the more he talks, the more I stand there quietly listening. I’m known to be a chatterbox, but his accent is hypnotizing. He could explain how dinosaurs became extinct, and I still would have listened without saying a word.
Mr. Becker finishes the conversation. He leaves the room with Slater following. The moment they’re out the door, Mia lets out a huge gasp.
“Holy moly! Zoey, did you hear his accent? I swear, if I weren’t pregnant, I would have dry-humped his mouth.”
“Calm down, will you? It’s just your pregnancy hormones running wild. And have you forgotten about your husband?”
“Of course not. We have this understanding. His eyes can wander just nothing else,” she admits with a cheap smile.
I laugh loudly. “So, are your eyes allowed to wander? You just said you wanted to dry-hump his mouth.”
“Yes. Troy doesn’t care. He knows I love him. It’s all for fun anyway.”
“I think it’s cute the two of you have that relationship. You know… where you can joke without hurting each other’s feelings.”
“But you and Drew are like that, at least, you used to be?” She raises her left eyebrow, tilting her head slightly while waiting for me to answer.
I keep quiet thinking about the way we were. Of course, as roomies, I would mouth off about men in general. It never bothered him because we weren’t together. Nowadays, I never really comment on other men, and why would I? I have my hunk.
“Uh oh,” Mia comments, covering her mouth.
“What?” I ask, paranoid.
“Your relationship has fallen into that jealousy trap.”
“Jealousy trap? Seriously, what’s in that tea of yours?” I laugh it off. “Drew has female friends at work, and it doesn’t bother me.”
“Does it bother him if you talk to other men?”
“I don’t talk to other men aside from my dad and brothers.”
She eyes me dubiously. “So, it doesn’t bother you at all that he spends every day at work with young women keen on furthering their career?”
“All right, that’s it,” I tell her. “You’ve been watching too much General Hospital. Drew isn’t like that. He loves me, and I trust him. He and his colleagues are busy saving lives, not standing around like us gasbagging about co-workers and their accents.”
I could see the sheepish grin on her face—the one of a troublemaker. Harmless fun from someone bored out of her mind while waiting for this baby to arrive. During her attempt to rise from the chair, I offer her support as she latches on with a deep breath.
“I guess we should get back to work and stop ‘gasbagging’ about accents.” She laughs accidentally letting out a loud fart.
Quick to apologize, her face turns beet red as I hold on to the chair in a fit of hysterics, struggling for air.
***
Mia is armed with a ton of magazines, dumping them on the coffee table as she falls onto the couch exhausted. I can’t blame her. We are on the third floor, and those flights of stairs are a bitch.
Drew is in the kitchen cooking something that makes my mouth water and stomach growl like crazy. Much to his amusement, he joins us briefly as Mia talks relentlessly about dates.
“C’mon, Drew, you must have some date in mind,” Mia asks, half listening while flipping through a magazine.
“Um, I don’t know. Spring is good, isn’t it?”
“That’s so far away,” she complains.
“Summer?” he follows, looking at me to save him from Mia. “Wouldn’t that be too hot though?”
“I can see it now.” She stares above waving her hand as the both of us look at each other confused. “A summer wedding. A floral theme. A beach wedding.”
“How about fall? I’m not really a beach-type person,” I say honestly.
“But you live next to the beach.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty. I just don’t like sand and sun on me.”
Drew places his arms around my shoulders massaging them while leaning in to kiss the top of my hair.
“Aww, you guys. It never gets old seeing you together. Let’s hope you can get through the wedding planning to make it down the aisle,” Mia jokes, laughing loudly.
“We’ll be fine. I’m not as anal as you.”
Drew coughs, and the dirty bastard almost chokes on his own saliva. I elbow him in the chest warning him that I know what he’s thinking—mind in the gutter along with my ass in which he thoroughly enjoys pleasuring.
“Don’t worry. Once you make it down the aisle, everything you fought about will be a distant memory.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Drew responds calmly. “Zo isn’t exactly a Bridezilla. I have every faith in her to make it down the aisle.”
I touch his hand that rests on my shoulder, pulling it close to kiss the top of his knuckles.