Rich S.O.B.: A Romantic Comedy

by Bijou Hunter

  Asher smiles and says something about how he wants to taste every inch of me. Then he falls silent and flops onto the bed. I check to make sure he’s breathing before covering him with my favorite red plush blanket.

  I expect Asher to sleep for an hour or two. He changes positions occasionally, and at some point, he crawls higher on the bed. I cover him up again, ignoring his bare ass begging for a pinch. I will not take advantage of this poor man! I’m a good person, and he deserves respect even if he owns the most pinchable ass in the creation of asses.

  When Mallory shows up after the storm dies down, I show her my sleeping guest.

  “You need to learn to say no to him like you do to me,” she whispers while we stand in the kitchen.

  “Why?”

  Mallory considers my question and then shrugs. “I guess you don’t. It’s not like you were super busy before meeting him and he’s put a damper on your lifestyle.”

  “True,” I say and sip coffee to get rid of the chill from when Asher soaked me. “He looked so miserable when he showed up. Sad and pathetic and sexy and very wet and I couldn’t send him away.”

  “Yes, you could have. You chose not to.”

  “Fine, Miss Honesty, I chose to let my delicious acquaintance slash maybe boyfriend sleep over rather than leaving him in a thunderstorm with no transportation home. Hmm, when I say it aloud, I wonder why I agreed.”

  “Why is he sleeping exactly?”

  “I think he’s sick.”

  “You two are sharing a romance to end all romances. I can’t wait until he pukes all over your favorite blanket and you get to clean it up. Wow, will I be jealous then or what?”

  “You’re seething with jealousy now, and it’s a great look on you.”

  Mallory shares my smile and then peeks in on him again. Shaking her head, she walks to the door.

  “I’ll leave so we don’t wake up Prince Charming.”

  “Text me while we watch Snapped. I’m lonely over here while he sleeps and CP watches him sleep. So very lonely.”

  Mallory winks at me before disappearing out the door. Hours later, we get bored of texting about killer women and whether any of them might be innocent. Soon, I turn off all the lights except for my blue lava lamp.

  I use my phone to see in the dark bedroom. Asher remains covered up, though he’s now on his back. My fingers slide effortlessly across his forehead to remove hair from his eyes. I don’t want to wake up the darling man.

  Except I can’t fit on the bed with him resting squarely in the middle. I gently attempt to wake him from his slumber. A bounce on the mattress. Calling his name. Setting my alarm and letting it ring near his sexy ear. If I didn’t see Asher breathing, I’d think he was a blasted corpse.

  “Asher, move over,” I grunt, shoving at his body and making no progress. “What a bed hog.”

  Giving up, I shuffle to the living room where I turn on the TV and cuddle up on the couch where I’ve spent so many hours today napping.

  I take forever to fall asleep. Mostly, I’m worried about Asher’s exhaustion. What if he’s actually sick and I don’t help him, and he dies, and it’ll be my fault for not doing whatever needs to be done for whatever sickness he’s suffering from? Every time I start to doze off, I’m certain Asher calls out for me.

  Eventually, my eyes stay closed, and I dream of my old math teacher trying to kill me because I know her secret. Throughout my ordeal, Mallory narrates the situation just like on Snapped. After an hour, I’m startled awake by the sound of Asher’s voice.

  I’m not sure if I really heard him until CP flies out of the bedroom, terrified by a man in his domain.

  Asher proves more coherent than hours earlier, and I finally get a spot in my bed. The awkwardness I ought to feel never happens, mainly because I’m exhausted from dozing all day and never sleeping well.

  I don’t know how long he remains awake. We don’t speak, but he does take my hand and holds it under the pillows. I smile in the darkness, thinking of how gentle Asher can be. He’s worth a second chance, and I’m worth having a man like him.

  CH 17

  ❁ Asher ❁

  Junie wakes me with a strong cup of coffee, and by playing music that I assume she learned to enjoy as a teenager when her taste level was nonexistent. I sit up in bed, wearing the pink panda nightgown and nothing else. Feeling more naked than I’ve been in my entire life, I sip the coffee and take in the sight of a fresh-faced Junie.

  “Your bedroom is red,” is all I need to say to destroy her shining smile.

  “I know. Is this your way of telling me you aren’t color blind?”

  “No, I’ve never known anyone with a red room. I’ve always heard red was a stressful color, so it wouldn’t be well-suited for a bedroom.”

  “I don’t find it stressful. In fact, I think it looks grand. Decadent even.”

  Swallowing hard, I notice the bold colors on the blankets, lamp, curtains, and every inch of the room. In contrast to the cold sharpness of my gray penthouse, Junie’s rich, warm décor overwhelms me.

  The tightness in my chest signals a panic attack is coming. Breathing too fast, I can’t relax. Every muscle tenses, and my heart races. The room shrinks around me, causing my head to swim. Lost in the panic, I can’t remember if I brought emergency pills with me. I don’t even know where my phone is, so I can’t call Egor. I’m trapped here, losing my mind in front of a woman I can’t afford to scare away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You look sick.”

  “This place is over-stimulating,” I mutter, not sure how else to explain it.

  Junie looks around as if seeing her apartment for the first time. I don’t know how she’ll react. I can only recline on the bed and try to slow my breathing. My vision narrows until I only see Junie’s face surrounded by the blood red of the walls.

  ‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

  ❁ Junie❁

  Asher’s face goes pale only seconds before he starts hyperventilating. I don’t understand why he’s flipping out when absolutely nothing happened. He says my room is over-stimulating.

  At first, I think he’s full of crap, but then I step outside my head where my room provides comfort. I picked out everything in here and love the color. Setting aside my personal tastes, I imagine how other people might find red overwhelming. My mother claimed the red walls would give me nightmares. Her warning never came true, but clearly, Asher’s brain is wired differently.

  I cover his eyes with my right hand. “What does your home look like?”

  “Junie, I can’t…”

  “Don’t give me any lip, Ferrer. You came to my home and crashed like a rock all night. You owe me the chance to help you.”

  “I need to go.”

  “There’s no time for that. Imagine you’re already there. You’re in your bed, staring at your ceiling. What color is it?”

  “Junie.”

  I gently kiss him and then whisper, “Is the ceiling painted white?”

  “No. It’s stained concrete gray. Lighter than the walls and floor but still gray.”

  “Is there texture or is the ceiling smooth?”

  “Smooth.”

  “Any imperfections?”

  “Slight discolorations in spots especially near the bathroom door.”

  “Can you see out of a window from your bed?”

  “Yes. The entire wall is windows facing out to the east end of Dietrich.”

  “Imagine you’re still in your bed. If you lift your head, what do you see?”

  Asher’s hands grip my nightgown, keeping me pinned against him. “The top of the 7th Street church and the mountains.”

  “Can you smell anything?”

  “I smell you.”

  “Yes, because I’m in bed with you. What else do you smell? Does your cleaning person use a particular scented cleaner?”

  “Bleach. She’s relentless with it.”

  “How often does she clean your bathroom?”<
br />
  “Twice a day.”

  “Do you remain in the room when she cleans, or do you leave her to work?”

  “I leave.”

  “Where do you go?” I ask while caressing my cheek against his jaw.

  “To my office on the other side of the penthouse.”

  “Do you have a view from there?”

  “Yes. It faces west toward your side of town. I sit there a lot and wonder what you’re doing.”

  Smiling, I ask, “Is it beautiful at night with all the lights on?”

  “Yes,” he whispers, and I notice his breathing slow.

  “Does your office have the same décor as your bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have shelves full of books?”

  “No, I read off my tablet.”

  “What do you have in the office?”

  “A desk and chair.”

  “When you think of me while in your home, do you get stressed out?”

  “Yes.”

  Frowning, I exhale slowly. “You know you’re completely safe with me, don’t you? I’m too kindhearted to hurt you.”

  Asher smirks, and I realize he’s breathing normally now. Removing my hand from his eyes, I smile an inch from his lips. “You doubt my gentle spirit?”

  “I heard you threatened the investigator.”

  “He could have been a stalker.”

  “And you thought you could take him down?”

  “Mallory had a pineapple,” I murmur and kiss his jaw. “You lied to me about him.”

  “I lie to you about a lot of things.” When I frown at him, Asher’s luscious smile only grows. “I tell the truth too. You can focus on which of those matters to you the most.”

  I slide my left hand to his bare thigh and give the muscular flesh a squeeze. “I’m not the kind of woman to take advantage of a half-conscious man. However, I am the kind of woman to take advantage of a fully conscious and barely dressed man.”

  “It’s good to know your limitations.”

  “I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about, but I’m moving my hand right and saying hello to Little Asher. If you have a problem with that, you’ll need to let out a girlish scream.”

  Rather than crying out, Asher lifts his head, so our lips meet. Before my hand reaches his manhood, his cups my breast and even goes as far as giving my soft nipple a quick pinch.

  “No more solo tiddlywinks. Let’s do this thing, Ferrer.”

  CH 18

  ❁ Asher ❁

  Junie’s bedhead creates wild waves in her dark hair. I reach up to wrap a curl around my finger just as she wraps her fingers around my dick. Her lips taste mine before she straddles my thighs. I’m forced to let go of her hair when she lifts the pink panda nightgown over my head. She then tugs off her flannel nightgown and gives me the view I’ve been fantasizing about since she first skated into my life.

  “I don’t have condoms,” she whispers against my cheek before nipping at my ear. “Never needed them at the house since I’ve never enjoyed tiddlywinks with a guy here. Should I run to the store to get some now?”

  Cupping her luscious breasts in my hands, I pinch the nipples between my knuckles. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I’m on birth control, so no worries about little Ferrers running around in nine months.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  “I was,” she says, stroking my dick with both of her hands. “I’m not done practicing motherhood on my cat. I’ll probably need a decade more to ensure I know what I’m doing.”

  “Stop talking about your cat.”

  “I can’t help it. When I’m nervous, I can only talk about my cat.”

  “Then I’ll ignore you,” I say, tugging her forward, so her left breast is an inch from my lips.

  “Shouldn’t you tell me not to be nervous?”

  “No. Feel what you want to feel.”

  “Oh,” Junie mumbles and then moans, “Oh” again when I suck her soft, red nipple.

  Her body goes limp, and I think she might flop onto me. I’m ready to take control, but Junie regains her focus and guides my erection to her wet slit. We both inhale sharply when the head of my dick disappears into her hot opening. Her gaze finds mine as we pause as if shocked by how quickly things have escalated. I wait to see if Junie bails on this experiment, but she surprises me once again by lowering her hips in a hard grunt and filling herself completely.

  “Well, that happened,” she murmurs as her hips lift and fall in an initially awkward rhythm before steadying into a wonderful rolling tempo.

  For me, sex has always felt like an act happening to someone else. I enjoy the sensations without connecting to the intimacy. I’d never admit this to anyone, not even my old shrink. However, for me, the best sex occurs when I can forget the woman is even involved.

  With Junie, I want to see, hear, feel, and taste everything. My fingers taunt her nipples, tugging at the flesh until they’re long, angry points. I plan to suck them more, but Junie is too busy bouncing on my dick for me to get a taste.

  I can’t take my eyes off Junie, and my fingers won’t stop playing with her lovely nipples. She smiles and sighs and groans and laughs. No one has ever looked happier than she does right now. Then her body convulses with an orgasm, and I swear Junie glows as if she’s experiencing heaven. At that moment, I’m a new man, reborn with a need only this beautiful woman can fulfill.

  ‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

  ❁ Junie❁

  Tiddlywinks with Asher is greatly preferable to molesting my comforter. As much as I would be fine feasting off the afterglow of our awesome quickie, I guide Asher to my shower so he can clean up. Unfortunately, he isn’t impressed by the orange and blue faux antique vanity or the colorful sink bowl. My tiled shower doesn’t help either, but I order him to close his eyes and tell me about his cold, impersonal shower. Asher grunts at my description but settles down as soon as I soap up his chilled body under the hot water from my rainfall showerhead.

  “When was the last time your manhood knew this kind of attention?” I murmur while my hand strokes him steadily.

  “When was the last time you showed someone’s manhood this kind of attention?”

  “You first.”

  “My past sexual experiences weren’t like this. They were cold, impersonal.”

  “Is that how you want it?” I ask as his hands caress my shoulders.

  “I’m not smacking away your hand, so…”

  “Little Asher is the first manhood to receive a very special handjob from yours truly.”

  “You might want to stop calling it ‘little.’”

  Smirking, I reach up to kiss his jaw. “You’d seem tougher if your eyes weren’t closed.”

  “I’m concentrating.”

  “So am I,” I tease, jerking him off with the skill of a long-time sex goddess. “And I’m close to winning.”

  Asher leans down and kisses me. His lips own mine, sucking harder as I stroke his manhood into submission. As he comes, Asher’s teeth nip my lower lip and don’t let go until I caress every drop out of him.

  “Sorry,” he says and runs his thumb over my bleeding lip.

  “You’ve got a wild man trapped inside you, don’t you, Ferrer?”

  “If you don’t stop, you’ll have a wild man inside you too soon.”

  Asher’s threat isn’t idle. He pins me to the bed as soon as we’re out of the shower. I yelp in surprise, unaccustomed to a man taking charge of me. Especially not Asher who I’ve had to shove along every inch of our relationship.

  My legs open too slowly for his taste, and Asher shoves them aside. His expression when he gazes down at Mistress Beaver makes me feel like a meal for a starving man.

  Then his focus shifts to the red walls and I see him losing his inner wild man.

  “Right here, Ferrer,” I say, pointing between my legs. “Nothing exists except your manhood and what it wants.”

  Asher refocuses on me rather than
the room. Leaning over my body, he kisses me hard and steals my surprised breath. I feel him between my legs. His fingers tease my flesh, finding my sweet spot and making me squirm wildly. Enjoying my pleasured moans, Asher smiles against my lips.

  When I grip my comforter and break out in sweat from the building orgasm, Asher guides his manhood to the mistress and gives her a good hard thrust. The pressure sends me into feral cries, likely sounding as if I’m being murdered rather than pleasured in the best possible way.

  His strong hips get an intense workout, leaving me a spent and sweaty mess. By the time Asher unloads his pent-up desires into my body, I’m wondering how people have the energy for so much tiddlywinks on a regular basis. After getting so wonderfully used, my body is done for the day.

  Ch 19

  ❁ Asher ❁

  Egor plans to pick me up in an hour. First, I dress in my clean clothes from last night and enjoy a bowl of Junie’s ground beef and black bean stew. Sitting in the blindingly colorful kitchen belonging to a woman I’m falling in love with; I wonder how can I exist in Junie’s world when our tastes are so drastically different.

  “Tell me about Garrett,” she says, setting a cup of coffee at the table before joining me.

  “What about him?”

  “How long did you know him?”

  “In our first year of high school, he and I shared a few classes. We were also in the computer club together.”

  “Nerds,” she says, snickering.

  Sharing her smile, I nod at the label. “Yes, but he was more of a slacker geek. A chubby long-haired kid, he got called Pizza Face more than nerd. I wasn’t much better off.”

  “Did your face look like a pizza?”

  “No, but I wasn’t white, Hispanic or Native American. I was too mixed to fit in anywhere. High school might have been better if I were a jock like my brother. He did okay, but I always felt like an outsider.”

  “Except with Garrett.”

  “We clicked in the right way at the right time. We made sense when a lot of stuff didn’t,” I say, rather startled by how sad my voice sounds.

  “Did you love him?”