One Hot Roomie

by Durand, Anna

  "The what?"

  "Oh. Sorry. I meant elevator. I forget the American words for things."

  "Don't worry about it." She walks into the elevator, and I follow. Once the doors slide shut, she asks, "Are you sleeping with anybody right now?"

  I roll my eyes at her. "No, Arden, and I won't be sleeping with you either."

  "But you want to." She stuffs her hands into her jeans pockets, cocking one hip. "I still don't get why you're anti-relationships. What are you afraid of?"

  I make a noise that even I think sounds vaguely like a growl. "I told you earlier, I'm not afraid. Relationships aren't for everyone, you know. I remember reading somewhere that monogamy is a construct of modern civilization, but it's not natural for human beings. We need to shag lots of people in order to propagate the species."

  And aren't I so fucking proud of myself for using all those big words. Won't she be so fucking impressed.

  She snorts and shakes her head at me. "That's what players say to excuse their sleazy behavior. But you don't strike me as a sleazoid, so I'm guessing you have another, deep-seated reason for being afraid of commitment."

  Oh yes, she's so fucking impressed. I really am an idiot, aren't I? Maybe I shouldn't have used the word shag in my little diatribe meant to convince her my lifestyle is noble.

  I hope I'm not trying to convince myself of that.

  Maybe there's a reason for my behavior, and I don't know what it is. Maybe I should figure that out.

  Another time.

  "What is a sleazoid?" I ask. "Can't tell if I should be offended until I know what on earth you're talking about. Is that another kind of alien being? Sleazoids must have red skin and forked tails to match their giant, forked dicks."

  "Do you have a forked dick?" She raises up on her toes, angling her head down and peering at my crotch. "Maybe you should show me, strictly so I can decide if you really are a sleazoid."

  When she moves only her eyes to peek up at me through those thick lashes, her lips kink up at the corners. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, and of course, my dick loves it.

  Is she trying to seduce me? Little Arden Clover Pesti, the virgin who believes in aliens? I've had women seduce me before---I've always loved when that happens---but none of those other women called me a sleazoid and asked to see my forked penis as part of the seduction. It shouldn't be working on me, but it is. I want to whip out my cock and show her the proof I'm not a sleazoid from the planet Arsehole.

  Arden sighs and faces the elevator doors.

  Everything she does and says makes me want to call my brother. I know exactly what I'll tell him. "Bugger off, Chance, I'm shagging Arden today. Tell Elena it's not my fault her friend is the world's first nymphomaniac virgin. Cheers. See you at the wedding."

  Instead, I glare at the elevator doors until they slide open. Then I shake off my irritation and follow Arden out of the building, listening while she tells me about every building and object we pass on our trip to the park. I learn all about the street vendors too, and I buy us both ice cream cones along the way. I love watching her lick that ice cream. Her pink tongue snakes out, curls around the ice cream, and glides back into her mouth with the tip rolled over. With every sensuous lick, she closes her eyes and moans.

  All I can do to stave off a flaming hard-on is to cough into my fist and focus on the most disgusting image I can think of---the rotting corpse of a dead hedgehog I'd once seen in the woods near my parents' house.

  The image doesn't cure my problem, but it helps a little.

  When we get to the park, Arden leads me down a wide, paved path that takes us past flowering trees and park benches. We see children flying kites and older men playing some sort of game inside a court that has a glass roof over it. Arden informs me they're playing bocce. I've heard of the game, but I have no idea what's involved.

  "I don't really understand the game myself," she admits when I ask her about it. "But some people really like it. I once dated a guy who was totally into bocce, and he told me it's related to a British game called bowls. No idea what that is."

  "It's a very boring game where you roll little balls around and try to get them close to another little ball." I groan, remembering the times I've sat through games to be polite. "My brother Dane loves bowls. But I didn't realize bocce was the same thing."

  We pass a couple of brick buildings, then Arden sits her lovely arse down on a bench and waves for me to join her. I do, but I keep an arm's length between us. Like I said, resisting temptation is not in my nature. Chance has ordered me to go against my every impulse and act as uptight as he is. Or was. He seems to have loosened up a lot since he met Elena. She must be a bloody fantastic lay.

  She's also very sweet and very clever. Arden is starting to remind me of Elena, but without the business suits or the inexplicable adoration of my uptight brother. No, Arden is not stuffy. She's like a breath of fresh air that's been imbued with the essence of sunshine.

  She's a free spirit. Turns out I like that.

  And I keep liking that about her until she scoots across the bench, coming dangerously close to me. "Don't sit so far away. I like smelling you."

  "Smelling me? Did I forget to use deodorant this morning?"

  The enchanting girl laughs.

  Every time Arden does that, the sound is sweet and almost musical, and it tickles my senses in the strangest way. And every time she does that, I want to kiss her until she melts in my arms.

  I can't do that, though. Chance has forced me to dig out the willpower I never knew I had, so I can resist this free-spirited angel who claims to have a filthy mind.

  Willpower is awful. Why does anyone want to have it? Why do people brag about theirs? It's the worst invention in the history of the universe.

  Our bench sits right under a tree covered with white flowers that give off a sweet, delicate perfume. When a breeze shivers the flowers, a few petals come loose and float down to light on Arden's hair and shoulders. She looks like an angel, smiling at me with those white petals clinging to her blonde hair.

  I want to strip her naked right here, lay her across the length of the bench, and push inside her supple body. No, that won't work. I can't fit on the bench that way. But I could lift her onto my lap and let her ride me.

  Tossing that fantasy into the mental rubbish bin, because I've developed a terrible case of willpower, I focus on the grassy area across from us. "It's nearly lunch. Where should we eat?"

  The sexy angel leans in, her nose brushing my cheek, and inhales deeply. "Mm, you really do smell yummy."

  I never use cologne, so I have no idea what she thinks she smells. Maybe the body wash I used? No, not that. What then? I don't want to know, because I'm sure the answer will cure me of this willpower disease I've contracted.

  And that would be a bad thing... why?

  Her nose grazes my cheek again. "I could just eat you up."

  All the air in my lungs splutters out of me, and I'm fairly certain I spray saliva all over the sexy woman who's sitting much too close to me.

  "Why are you fighting it?" she asks. "You want me. I want you. And you did swear you'd be the best first time I could ever have."

  I swallow a groan. Why did I say that last night? What kind of moron am I? Chance hadn't issued his directive yet when I told Arden I would be the best first time she could have. Now the sneaky girl is using my own words against me.

  "Forget what your brother said," Arden tells me. "He has no right to interfere in my life."

  "What about Elena? She'll hate me if I---you know." Now I can't even say the words. Take your virginity. What's hard about saying that? Nothing. But I can't make the words leave my mouth. They seem to be stuck somewhere between my brain and my throat.

  Arden settles a hand on my thigh and skates it up and down, her longest finger grazing my cock.

  I'm not sure she even knows she's almost touching that part of me. My dick knows, and it loves the tickling sensatio
n. My willpower thinks it's torture. I'm on the fence. Teetering. Tipping more and more in the direction of Arden.

  Straighten up, Reese, or you're a dead man.

  Arden slides her hand up my thigh, over my hip, and all the way up to my chest. Her lips flutter over my earlobe when she whispers, "For nine months, I slept in a strange house with somebody else's kids down the hall, and I didn't even have my vibrators. I had nothing to do at night except listen to the parents getting it on in their room. The noises they made, all those little grunts and gasps and moans, it made me wonder why the hell I'm still a virgin. I had to give myself a happy ending every night, manually. My right hand developed a permanent cramp."

  Naturally, my mind shows me a fantasy of her doing that.

  "Why are you telling me this?" I ask. And why does my voice sound rough, like I've swallowed a mouthful of sandpaper? I'm having trouble breathing, and my cock is straining to get out of my trousers.

  "I'm telling you," she says, in the sexiest whisper I've ever heard, "because I had decided to lose my virginity before I ever met you. But now that I have met you, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather let pop my cherry."

  Though I've always hated that term, when she says it the words ignite a searing, irresistible need in me. I grip the bench so hard my fingers hurt, but even the pain can't douse my lust for Arden.

  "Please, Reese," she purrs into my ear. "I want it to be you."

  I want that too. More than want it. I hunger for her like a starved man who's been offered a sumptuous, succulent meal for the first time in months. And yes, I want to devour her.

  But I seem to have this annoying, wriggling thing in my brain that makes me do the last thing on earth I want to do right now. I think that wriggling thing is called a conscience.

  Which explains why I jump up, force a smile I'm sure looks slightly manic, and tell Arden, "I have to go. Time for me to get a hotel room. Thank you for showing me some of the city, but it's really not appropriate for me to, uh, share an apartment with you."

  And I run off.

  Well, I don't literally run. I walk away very, very quickly from the sensual woman on the bench who all but begged me to fuck her. I, Reese Dixon, walk away from a girl who wants sex.

  Only as I'm crossing the lobby of the first hotel I find do I realize I'll have to go back to that bloody apartment to get my things. If I have any luck at all, Arden won't be there.

  I'm not feeling that lucky today.

  Chapter Six

  Arden

  When I get back to the apartment, suffering from intense sexual frustration, I grab my phone and call Elena. She's not answering her cell, so I leave a message telling her we need to talk pronto. I can't believe my best friend would tell her fiancé to order his brother not to sleep with me. I mean, it's my body. It's my choice. And if Reese is such an awful guy, why would Elena lend him her apartment? Chance must have come up with the boneheaded idea of treating me like I'm an idiot who can't make a decision for herself.

  To be fair, Chance and I haven't met. He doesn't know me, but his fiancée does. What did Elena tell him? What could she say that would make him think I need protecting from his brother?

  The word virgin. That makes most guys think I'm fragile.

  I fume for a while, then decide to get started on the work project I don't actually need to start for a couple weeks. I'd planned on using this time before Elena and Chance's wedding to relax. She insisted I didn't need to help her with the wedding arrangements, and she wants me to take it easy since I'm freshly home from Ecuador.

  New York isn't my home, but I thought I'd have more opportunities to get laid in a megacity, instead of back home in Stockbridge. My hometown in Massachusetts doesn't have a broad selection of man candy.

  Work takes my mind off things for a couple hours.

  Then the phone rings, and I see it's Elena calling.

  "Hey, hon," I say when I pick up. "How's England today?"

  "Beautiful. How are things at your end?"

  "Fab. How's your British stud today? Is he plotting more ways to interfere in my life?"

  Elena is silent for a few seconds. "What are you talking about?"

  "Didn't Chance tell you? He ordered his brother to keep his hands off me."

  "Chance did what?" Elena pauses again, but she doesn't sound confused or surprised when she speaks again. Instead, she sounds like my best friend who wants to hear all the details. "Do you want Reese's hands on you?"

  "Yes, dammit, I do. And your honey is seriously messing with my plans."

  "What plans do you have for Reese?"

  "I want him to take my virginity. That's the plan."

  Silence. For such a long time I think I've shocked my best friend so horribly that she's passed out.

  Finally, Elena laughs. "Oh, those Dixon boys really do have the magic touch with the ladies, don't they? I mean, I had sex with Chance in an elevator five minutes after we met. Can't blame you for wanting to get it on with Reese. He's as hot as Chance, maybe hotter." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "Don't tell Chance I said that."

  "My lips are sealed."

  "You always did have a soft spot for the bad boys."

  "That's because they're so much fun." I twirl a lock of my hair around my finger while I remember Reese's naughty smile when he told me he'd be the best first time I could ever have. "I like Reese. He's more fun than any guy I've met before, and I really, really want my first time to be with him. I had a sexual epiphany in Ecuador, and I don't want to wait any longer. Look, I'm not after a relationship. I know Reese isn't that kind of guy, but I'm also pretty sure sex with him will be incredible. Don't I deserve a rockin' first time?"

  "Of course you do."

  "Then you'll tell Chance to back off?"

  She makes a noise that's like a groany hum. "I don't know, Arden. Maybe you should wait until you get to know Reese better. I mean, he's a sweetie, but... Chance knows him better than I do. I trust his judgment, and if he thinks it's a bad idea, then it probably is."

  "You just said Reese is a sweetie."

  "But he has a reputation for being the bang-and-run type. I don't want you to get hurt."

  Now it's my turn to groan, though mine is more moany groan than groany hum. "It's my life, Elena. Being a virgin doesn't make me mentally incompetent."

  "I know. You're wicked smart, but you're inexperienced when it comes to men. We both know why that is, but like I've told you for years, you can't avoid taking risks forever."

  "Which is exactly why I want to sleep with Reese."

  "That's not the kind of risk I mean, and you know it." She hesitates yet again, and I can hear her fingernails drumming on some kind of hard surface. "Get to know him. Take these two weeks to become friends with Reese, then decide. You need to try dating, really dating, before you take the next step."

  "Says the woman who screwed her fiancé on the night they met."

  "I don't want you to regret this, that's all. Besides, you just came back from nine months in South America. At least decompress before you jump in the sack with Reese or anybody."

  Decompress? Maybe I do need some downtime, but I'm tired of everyone telling me what to do. My parents never told me what to do, though they offered me advice. My grandmother is another story. Date this guy, don't date that guy. Take this job, don't take that one. Grams is kind of bossy. It's a side effect of her job.

  "Have you even told Reese who you are yet?" Elena asks.

  "No. I was hoping I wouldn't have to."

  "Bite the bullet, Arden."

  "Fine," I say with a sigh. "I'll tell him."

  I hear a man's voice in the background and know it must be Chance. Elena announces she has to go. We say goodbye, with my promise I won't sleep with Reese until I've at least told him who I am. Where I come from. Why I've stayed a virgin. Elena gave me his cell number, but it takes me an hour to work up the courage to call. When I do, I get his voice mail. I leave a messa
ge asking him to please, please, please stop by the apartment so we can talk. I say it's urgent, to make sure he'll show up.

  And if he can handle my pedigree, maybe we can get it on tonight.

  Problem is, ever since my talk with Elena, I've been starting to think she might be right. Maybe I ought to spend more time with Reese before we hook up. I don't want to wait. Thinking about him makes me ache and burn in all those secret places where no one has ever touched me before. No one but me and my harem of vibrators.

  How long do I have to wait? A week? A month? I have no idea what length of time is sufficient before I can hump Reese, the hottie who makes me tingle all over every time he smiles.

  Maybe I have gone sex crazy. Elena might be right that I have other reasons for wanting to cross that line with Reese.

  So I decide to deal with my lust the way I always have. I change into a billowy nightie, get Rod, and sit on the sofa tucked into the corner with my legs stretched out. Leaning my head back, I picture Reese. His mouth. His eyes. His hot body. I remember how it felt to have my hand on his thigh, so close to his dick. Maybe I won't sleep with him for a while, if ever, but I can use a fantasy of him to help me get some relief.

  I picture him naked. All those muscles. His hips undulating while he thrusts into me again and again.

  With one hand, I cup my breast through the nightie and pinch the already stiff peak. Oh yes. Reese. Doing that. With his mouth and his teeth. I bend one knee, letting it fall to the side, and slip my hand under my nightie to glide the vibrator up and down my slick cleft. I've watched enough late-night cable to know how it might go if I ever do sleep with my new roommate.

  Oh yes, Reese. His expression tense with the need to come. His ragged breaths. His cock filling me with every thrust.

  I switch on the vibrator and thrust it inside me the way I imagine Reese doing with his dick. I keep rolling my fingers around my nipple while I work the vibrator, throwing my head back and moaning. I let go of my breast and grip the sofa's back, writhing and gasping while I drive myself closer and closer to climax.

  My fantasy keeps going. Reese flipping us over so I'm on top, riding him while he grasps my hips and says dirty things to me.