by Mimi Strong
“What I mean is that I’m the kind of smart girl who does extremely stupid things. Like walk around shirtless with the blinds open. And go running through the woods at night. Or, come to think of it, naked trespassing by day. I do a lot of stupid things, but that stops now.”
“So you don’t want to use me as your emotional Band-Aid and personal play toy for nine days?”
I bit my lip. “No?”
“Sounds like a question.”
He closed the distance and rubbed the tip of his nose against mine.
“I should go back to Dalton’s house,” I said. “That’s where I was staying. Let’s have a cup of coffee, and let’s keep everything between us professional from now on. We can heal each other’s emotional wounds as friends. That could work.”
He withdrew his hands from the sides of my face and pulled back to stand up straight.
“One cup of coffee,” he said. “Then I’ll drive you wherever you want.”
I nodded, proud yet disappointed by my good decision-making.
Keith pulled the full carafe from the coffee maker, grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, then turned and left the kitchen. He walked into the bedroom—his bedroom—without a word.
I sat at the counter for a moment, my chin on my hands.
His bedroom was where he kept his bed. Beds are not where friends hang out. A friend should not go in there, argued the sensible part of me.
But he has the coffee in there, said another part of me.
And he’s probably naked, said yet another part of me. (That would be our friend, Miss Kitty.)
CHAPTER 5
Despite the urging of some body parts, I wasn’t falling into this new trap of Keith's. Nope. Not going into his bedroom, even if he did have all the coffee.
I wandered over to the washroom, where I freshened up with a quick shower and gave my teeth a brushing. I came out in a towel and sat on the sofa. I expected Keith to come out of the bedroom, fully dressed and laughing about his hilarious joke, but he didn’t.
The door was mostly closed.
I went to the doorway, pushed open the door, and stood there in my towel. The curtains were drawn, and the room was dark and still.
“How’s that coffee?” I called out.
“Drop the towel and get your sweet ass in here, Miss Smarty Pants Class Valedictorian.”
“I was never a valedictorian. That honor went to an evil wench named Brie. She always had the best clothes, and her family was mega-rich.” I had more to say about Brie, but stopped myself. I’m stupid at times, but I do realize high-school girl grudges are of very little interest to men, unless there’s hair-pulling or pillow fights.
The curtains were really thick in Keith’s room, and my eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so all I could see was shapes. One shape in particular stood out. Oh, yes, he was naked.
“Why don’t you get in here,” he called gently. “Pretend I’m that wench Brie’s boyfriend.”
“She went out with a few different guys.”
“Pretend I’m all of them. Or pretend I’m her daddy.”
I squealed. “Mr. Harrison? He owns the big grocery store in town. I still see him all the time.”
“And?”
“And I’m dropping my towel. Now I’m coming in. Don’t laugh, and don’t look at my butt.”
I slipped into the dark room and closed the door behind me. It was cooler in here than in the rest of the apartment, with the air conditioner whirring steadily.
With his voice deeper than usual, he said, “Why, Peaches. You’ve certainly grown into a fine young woman. I’m so glad you and my daughter are friends.”
“No role-playing,” I said. “You’re an underwear model and I’m a girl who packs chocolate in her purse at all times. This, right here, is the full fantasy.”
I got onto the bed on my hands and knees and crept forward for a kiss.
“We’ll take it slow,” he said, gently caressing my lips with his.
I glanced around the room, stopping when I spotted the packets that were at the ready on his bedside table. We were good to go.
“Good to see you have prophylactics standing by at the ready,” I said. “All the better for licking each other like wild animals.”
“Do you think a dozen is enough?” he asked innocently.
“Sure. If things go sideways, at least we can make a balloon animal zoo.” I kissed him again, enjoying the sense of calm I got when we touched. My pulse wasn’t racing at all. Either I was getting better at staying cool around incredibly hot guys, or there was something different—better—about Keith, compared to he-whose-name-shall-not-be-invoked.
“Your hair is dripping on me,” Keith said.
“Sorry.” I pulled away.
“Shh, don’t be.”
Did he just shush me? Shushing usually makes me angry, but this time, I just sat there quietly as he pulled his robe from a hook near the bed and patted my hair to remove water.
“Nearly done,” he said, and then he did something curious.
I was sitting in the center of the bed with my legs out in front of me. He climbed over my legs, straddling them while facing me. When his butt came down on my thighs, my legs parted to let him sit on the bed. He kept reaching around my head, patting my hair dry, with his money makers nuzzling up against Miss Kitty. Casually. Like, Oh, didn’t see you there, m’lady.
His balls rubbed against my mound as though we were sharing a pair of Fundies*, and I breathed in the scent of his body and ran my hands over the fascinating terrain of his chest.
*Fundies are novelty underwear for two people, often given as a gag gift by people who’ve never actually had sex. This mention of Fundies was in no way sponsored or suggested to me by the wacky pervs who make Fundies.
Keith’s chest was beautiful, rippling under my fingertips as he finished towel-drying my hair. I tried not to think of how I looked to him. Surely after posing together in our underwear the previous day, there were very few surprises for either of us.
Keith tossed the robe aside and pressed both of his cool palms against my back, pulling me in for a hug. The hug lasted a long time. Like, I thought we were done hugging and began kissing his tanned shoulder, but the hug kept happening. Finally, I just gave into the hug, going limp. I think that’s what you’re supposed to do when a bear attacks you.
After a moment, I became aware of my breathing, and how it had fallen in rhythm to match Keith’s. I wondered if our hearts were beating together as well, because it sure seemed like it. He was still straddling my lap, our parts commingling like overly-friendly co-workers at an open-bar staff Christmas party, and the whole thing felt intense, but good.
An energy was climbing up my backbone, like a fast-growing vine, made of fire. The energy was sexual, but also more than that. What was Keith doing to me with this hug? Was he some sort of new-age earth muffin type? Honestly, if he’d started chanting next, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
More notably, he was at least as turned on as I was. His modeling talent—the part that filled out the underwear pouch—was straining upward to see the world, or at least my nipples. The velvety pink skin of his cock stroked softly against my stomach, and I realized we were swaying, albeit gently.
Oh, that gorgeous cock was almost as pretty as his face. I wanted him in me—in my mouth to begin with. Keith was hugging me so tightly, though, that I couldn’t make any moves. Despite the coolness in the room, our bodies were hot against each other, and any moment I was going to start sweating.
“This is perfect,” he said with a calm voice.
Were we still hugging? Yes, apparently we were.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Being here with me is more than enough.” His hands started moving, stroking up and down my back. After being held in one spot for so long, the sensation was incredible. My back felt like it was made of light, and every spot Keith pressed or squeezed emitted new colors.
I moaned and leaned my
head back, arching my upper body. He kissed my neck, his mouth hot and wet against my skin.
Gasping at the ecstasy of his touch, I moaned for him not to stop. This was so much better than the hugging.
When he reached my jaw, I tilted my head up again and we kissed passionately, our tongues caressing. His cock was rubbing up and down against my stomach now, the base of it getting wet from me.
“Trade spots?” he asked as he reached behind him for a condom.
“How?” I asked, but then I saw what he meant. Still facing him, both of us seated, I moved my legs to extend over top his thighs. He got the condom in place and used his hand to bend himself down enough to enter me. With a wiggle and a slight lift from me, bracing my palms behind me, he slid in. His whole incredible length and girth filled me gently. I gasped again at the sensation, fireworks sparking throughout my nerves and behind my eyelids.
This was happening. For real.
He caressed my breasts, moving in and out slowly, rhythmically.
Everything felt so good.
He took the next part as slowly as the beginning, and the more I let go and stopped worrying about getting somewhere, the more the divine pleasure built up. We swayed together, not moving very far in either direction, but still building heat.
“Lift your pelvis,” he whispered. “A little more muscle tension increases the blood flow.”
I leaned back again, using my palms for support, arching my back. Whatever was happening, the magic was working. I whimpered as I ground myself against his firm muscles, my clit mashing into his damp skin and short curls.
Keith fondled my breasts and craned his neck down, palming them upward so he could taste my nipples and run his teeth over the taut tissue. He sucked on one, then the other, making my eyes roll up in my head with pleasure.
His hips were rolling, moving in rhythm with and then against mine. I couldn’t get enough of him, moving gently back and forth inside me. I started to come, and I could tell it was going to be a big one, after all that buildup. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me close to him, then used his upper body strength to drive me up and down atop his hardness. My legs wrapped around him.
I cried out and buried my hands in his hair, hanging on for dear life as my orgasm shuddered through both of us. My wails quieted down until they were just raspy breaths. One final aftershock made me squeak with surprise.
We stopped moving, and all was still. He was hard inside me, neither coming nor going, from what I could tell.
“That was fantastic,” I said, giving him a kiss. The skin around his mouth was moist with sweat. “Now what? How shall we finish you off?”
“I’m good,” he said.
“I’ll say you’re good! Forget modeling, you should get paid to do that!”
He chuckled. “I don’t like to release every time, if that’s what you mean. I’m more about the journey than the destination.”
With that, he shifted back on the bed, withdrawing. One at a time, he pulled his legs out from under mine and swung around to lie on his side, gazing up at me.
“You’re really done?” I asked.
He pulled the sheet to cover himself from my curious eyes. I’d never heard of a regular guy choosing to not orgasm. Naturally, I was worried I had scared him, or that something was wrong with his twig and berries, perhaps permanent damage from wearing the cock rings for underwear shoots.
“Everything works just fine,” he said, as though he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. “What I really wanted was to hold you, kiss you, smell you, and taste your skin. I got all that, plus hearing you the sound of you coming. As for my preference, I find my senses are sharper when I’m not… finishing every day.”
He reached for my hand and pulled me to lie alongside him, my back against his front, our lower halves separated by a sheet.
“I’m not complaining,” I said. “Just curious.”
“And suspicious.”
“Not suspicious.” I brought his hand up to my mouth and gently gnawed on one of his knuckles. He had lovely hands for chewing on. “A little hungry is all.”
He combed through my damp hair with his fingers. “The sex was hot, but now our coffee is cold. Life always has a way of ensuring balance.”
I wriggled, feeling comfortable nestled against this man who’d been a stranger not twenty-four hours earlier. What surprised me most was I had no desire to run away, to flee the scene.
He nuzzled my ear and asked, “Remind me, how long do I have you?”
“Nine days,” I said. “Only nine days, and then I’m leaving LA.”
“I like this arrangement. You’re exactly what I needed to get my mind off Tabitha.”
My leg twitched. At the mention of some other woman’s name, the urge to flee had surfaced. What was that all about?
“Tabitha broke your heart?”
“She took my heart out of my chest, rented a moving truck, filled the moving truck with pianos, and ran forward and back over my heart repeatedly.”
I stifled a giggle.
He continued, “It gets better. She rented the moving truck using my credit card, too.”
“Wait, are we still talking in metaphor? This is getting complicated.”
His fingers caught in my hair tangles and yanked at my scalp, making me yelp and grab his hand.
“Easy there, wild beast.”
“Tabitha’s fault,” he growled.
Her name again. The urge to get away was almost unbearable.
I rolled away from him, off the bed, and out of the bedroom. I hustled, butt-naked, around the apartment gathering my stuff and getting dressed.
I could just leave! Good idea, Peaches!
I’d thrown on my clothes and was hopping on one foot, trying to get my shoe on for a getaway, when keys jingled on the other side of the apartment door. A second later, someone was opening the door. Scratch that. Two someones. Tall, leggy, brunettes—a matching set.
One of them scowled at me and said, “Who the fuck is this whore?”
The other one smiled and tucked her brown hair behind her ear, then extended a hand to me. “Hello!”
I just wanted to slip out, without a weird confrontation, so I had to think fast. Glancing around the apartment, I spotted a red broom and dustpan.
“I am cleaning lady,” I said, using a (probably offensive) accent I made up on the spot.
The two girls stared at me, one looking as amused as the other looked irritated.
I continued, waving my hand in a swirl, “Out of Lemon Pledge. Have to go… store. Buy more. He no buy, tsk tsk.” I shook my head, really getting into character. “Bachelor. Always messy. With the beard hairs on the sink.”
The mean girl turned to the nice one, saying, “Seriously, Tabitha. Now he’s fucking the cleaning lady? This has got to be rock bottom.”
“No rock bottom,” I growled. “No fucking cleaning lady.”
I resisted the urge to cram my shoe up her butt and slipped it on my foot instead. What confused me most was that the nice girl was Tabitha, Keith’s ex-girlfriend. Who was the mean girl, and what pooped on her Pop Tart?
Miss Nasty said, “Your hair’s wet. You just had a shower, so stop lying.”
I put on a huge, stupid grin. “I clean shower real good. I get right in and scrub, scrub, scrub.”
“Ladies!” Keith called out, drawing our attention. He was dressed and looking every bit the model in a tight-fitting gray, V-neck shirt and light brown chinos. My jaw actually dropped at the sight of him. Damn, he was sexy.
Miss Nasty demanded to know who I was, where he’d been, what he was doing, and about a million other things, all peppered with swear words and spewing out of her nasty mouth like a volcano of ugly.
Keith came around to my side and draped his arm over my shoulders. “My housekeeper and I are in love,” he said.
My jaw dropped again. Now, despite what had just happened in the minutes leading up to here, I’m not big on lying, even for the purposes of
a hilarious farce, but the look on Miss Nasty’s face was all it took to bring me over to the dark side.
“So in luff,” I said, still in my pretend-broken English. “I no resist big, handsome man. So sexy, like horse.”
Miss Nasty snorted. “Like horse! Keith! This is what rock bottom looks like. Here you are. I hope you’re happy, wallowing in your filth.”
I nearly cracked up. “No filth. I clean real good.”
Tabitha had already ducked away, into the kitchen. Some dishes clattered, and she returned to the area by the front door where we were standing, holding a popcorn-sized green glass bowl. “Got what I came for,” she said cheerily.
“Nice to meet you,” she said to me. “I’m Tabitha, by the way.”
“You break heart,” I said, hugging my arms around Keith protectively and putting on an exaggerated frown. It was surprisingly easy to play this role of Keith’s cleaning lady. The broken English forced me to slow down and think about what I was saying more than I usually did.
Keith squeezed me tight against him and kissed me affectionately on the side of my forehead. “And then you fixed my heart,” he said to me.
“I did? Oh! I did.”
To the other girls, he said, “Yeah, this has been going on ever since you both moved out. I didn’t tell you, because we weren’t sure where it was going until now.” He leaned down and rubbed his nose against mine, then gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Ursula is moving in with me,” he announced.
In unison, the brunettes said, “Ursula?”
I nodded. “Family name. You no like?”
They seemed skeptical, but there were so many lies being flung around, they didn’t know what to disbelieve first.
Keith said, “Ursula, this is Tabitha, my former girlfriend, as you’ve figured out. And this other charming young woman, who seems to have forgotten the manners we were raised with, and needs a dose of cayenne to remind her, is my sister, Katy.”
I pointed to him, then Miss Personality, aka Katy. “Keith, Katy. Brother, sister. I get. Keith is nice.” I gave her a dirty look, my eyes nearly squinted shut, like I was putting a curse on her—a curse I would have learned back in my homeland, wherever that was. “Katy is like kitty-cat who is not so nice.” I held my hands up in a clawing gesture and hissed.