by Sara Ney
Say what now? “Seriously?”
“Yes. My boobs are an erogenous zone.”
I’d rather she came on my dick, but at this point, beggars can’t be choosers.
Well.
Not that she’s begging—she hasn’t asked for shite.
Now that she’s admitted what her weaknesses are, I take advantage: sucking harder, licking more, hand gently cupping and squeezing softly.
I lick between her breasts, lavishing them with attention. I’ve always been a breast man, preferring them over long legs and arses as many chaps do.
Eliza’s are perfect. At least in my eyes anyway, round but not huge. Perky.
“These are gorgeous.”
She moans as a reply. “I can’t stand it anymore.”
Hmm. That’s music to my ears. “Meaning?”
I press forward, dragging the tip along her slit in a lazy fashion…
Say it, Eliza.
Say it.
“Please, Jack.”
Jack.
My name, in that way, in that tone.
“Please, Jack…?”
Such a cliché way to ask for sex.
I lean forward, hovering once more. Lean so my lips are near her ear. “You want my cock inside you, Liza?”
She nods.
“Didn’t hear you.”
She nods again. “Yes.”
Barely a whisper.
“Yes what?”
“Oh my god, are you actually doing this right now?”
I am. I really, really am. “Come on—say cock.”
“Yes I want your cock inside me.”
Thank fucking god.
I push home before either of us utters another word, her pussy wet and pliant and ready for me. I thank God again that I fit, inching forward at a measured pace so I don’t hurt her, so she can adjust.
I don’t know how much sex she’s had.
Didn’t ask if she’s a virgin.
I push deeper.
Nope—not a virgin.
A deep exhale leaves my body, one of relief and euphoria.
“Bloody hell you feel good.”
“God, I know.” Her hands begin a steady trail up and down my spine as I pump in and out of her, my hips gyrating as we find a rhythm together.
It’s slow going but steady, and I can’t help but kiss her on the mouth again, feeling somewhat…emotional?
Is that weird?
Why would I get emotional while having sex with someone for the first time? It doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I’m in love with her. It’s too soon for that, right?
Way too soon.
Still, tenderness or some shite overwhelms me when I look down at her sweet face, her lips parted. Hands gripping my backside, down to my derrière.
We fuck until we’re both sweating, my thrusts getting faster and faster, the headboard bumping into my bedroom wall every now and again, thrusting to the steady crescendo of lightning and thunder outside.
Booming.
Banging.
Booming.
Banging.
The perfect night for a fast shagging.
We change positions a few times, Eliza on her stomach with her arse in the air and me entering her from behind.
Me on my back with Eliza on top.
Some odd position I can’t describe that we accidentally stumbled into.
Missionary.
Her on top again.
More headboard banging.
Finally, she makes the telltale sounds of a woman who is about to climax, the breathy moans and gasps turning into panting.
Whining.
“Oh god, Jack, don’t stop don’t stop.”
Couldn’t if my life depended on it, though I can’t believe I’ve even lasted this long without coming. We’ve been fucking forever.
My balls tighten.
Tingle.
I swear on all that is holy they’re vibrating, the nerves in my body making me practically convulse—I want to come so bad now that she’s talking and urging me on.
“God I’m so close.”
Yes baby, pray to God. Tell him how you really feel.
“You feel so fucking good, Eliza.” I moan into her hair, bits of it getting stuck to my lips.
I spit it out when I lean back, thrusting into her while on my haunches, pulling her in close.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” she chants. “Oh yes. Oh fuck…”
“Come, Eliza.”
She moans. “Don’t talk.”
I clamp my mouth shut, in no position to argue if she wants me to keep my fucking lips zipped. Clearly she needs to remain focused or she’s going to lose sight of the end goal: an orgasm.
“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”
I pump my hips.
“Don’t move, just keep doing that.”
So bossy.
So demanding.
I love it.
Harder. Faster. More.
I keep doing what I’m doing, unaware of what that is, moving on autopilot, focused on the weather outside so I don’t prematurely come inside her before she’s gone and orgasmed.
Not a selfish cur, am I?
Nope.
Thoughtful like my mum taught me.
Ladies first.
I know she’s coming by the look on her face—total sex face—mouth gaping, brows furrowed, teeth gnashing on her bottom lip, some sweat. Looks like she’s constipated if I’m being honest, and can’t say my expression is any better.
She comes.
I come.
Her hands are still on my arse, gripping. “Don’t move yet, okay? Let’s just lie here like this.”
I lower myself and her arms move, going around my body like an embrace, stroking my perspiring spine, nails lightly brushing my skin.
It’s nice—I’ve no desire to flee or climb off or roll over to sleep, to climb out of bed and clean off.
No.
We stay like this for a while, my shrinking dick still inside her, holding each other.
I kiss the side of her face, the skin next to her eye, and she closes them with a hum. “Mmm. That was nice.”
“It was. You should probably sleep in here so we can do it again later. Might have to piss in the middle of the night and, you know…fancy a fuck.”
She smacks me on the arse.
“What? You don’t like a midnight snack?”
Her head lolls and she glances at the clock on my bedside table. “It’s past midnight.”
“Oh. Early early morning snack, then.”
“Are you calling me a snack?”
“Your pussy, yeah.”
“That’s kind of…gross. But I also kind of like it.” She laughs.
What can I say? Sometimes my vocabulary is a bit plebian even for myself.
Eventually I move off of her—this girl who is my roommate, now my lover, always my friend—and give her leave to hit the loo so she can rinse off or whatever it is girls do after they’ve had sex.
It doesn’t take her long; she’s hopping back into bed, under my covers within moments, snuggling onto her side with a content sigh.
Closes her eyes.
Sleeps.
And after a long while—after staring up at the ceiling for a good hour, a million things going through my brain—I’m able to sleep, too.
Twenty
Eliza
Jack and I had sex.
I had sex with Jack.
Who started it? And does it matter?
I did.
I came on to him; he was minding his business in bed, I busted in like a troll because I’m terrified of storms, and to make it all go away, I seduced him.
Let’s not fool ourselves—you didn’t seduce him because of the storm. You seduced him because you wanted to have sex with him, have since the first time he kissed you, haven’t been able to get it off your mind since the second time in the kitchen.
He turns me on.
I turn him on.
We’re friend
s.
Friends with benefits? God I hope not. That is not how I want this relationship to go, or end.
Sex can ruin everything, but I don’t know where I stand with him.
Shit.
We’re going to have to have yet ANOTHER talk.
Ugh.
“Do you have a second?”
Startled by the new voice—not the one dialoging inside my head—I’m caught off guard and I look up, seated at a chair in the student union, tray of food in front of me and textbook open, highlighter poised.
For once in my life, I’m studying and not doodling.
Daydreaming and doodling.
It’s Kaylee, and now I legitimately want to toss my cookies.
“Sure.”
I close the textbook and fold my hands to give her my full attention, shocked she’s here but schooling my expression. I could go on the road and play professional poker, the neutral set of my face as pleasant as they come.
Inside, though? I’m a wreck.
My stomach rolls nervously.
What does she want?
It hasn’t been long since we’ve spoken—broken up, really, when we bumped into one another on campus and awkwardly argued.
Kaylee continues to stand in front of my table, and it’s obvious she is not sure what to do with herself, or her hands, which she eventually stuffs inside the pocket of her hoodie. She shifts on the balls of her feet.
“I’m glad I ran into you because I wanted to tell you I’m sorry I acted the way I did. It was immature.” She pauses. “Lilly kind of filled me in on the conversation you had and told me how sweet you were about Kyle and said you were the one who told her to call him so…that was nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Lilly is my friend.” Why wouldn’t I give her good advice? Did they expect me to sabotage her? Or not be sympathetic?
“I know, but still.”
But still.
I hate when people say that. But still?
“I’d never purposefully do anything to hurt either of you. I wouldn’t have given her bad advice just because I’m not living at the house anymore.”
“Yeah, about that…” Kaylee shifts on her heels, almost uncomfortably. “We don’t have anyone new living with us yet.”
I nod along because I don’t know what to say in reply to that. I wouldn’t have expected them to have found a new roommate so easily; it’s only been what, a few weeks or so since I got the boot?
“I forgive you for the thing with Jack,” she announces, and if I do say so myself, she’s sounding a bit high and mighty.
“You forgive me?” I pause. “For what exactly?”
I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms and settling in. This ought to be good.
“For flirting with him and whatever while I was pursuing him. I’ve thought about it and like, he’s so charismatic it would have been impossible for you not to like him. So I forgive you. You’re both into nerdy stuff and have a ton in common.”
That’s true. We do have a lot in common. “Thanks?”
Should I be offended she called Jack and me both nerdy?
“You’re welcome.” She sighs before continuing. “You were right, I didn’t actually like him. I liked him at first, before he started blowing me off and ignoring me—which I totally did not deserve.”
“Nope, you didn’t.”
But she’s on a roll and barely listening to me. “And I liked the idea of him. He’s so big, and tall and cute. Seriously so good-looking.”
She keeps going on and on about how hot he is, and it’s making my cheeks warm. Making me frown.
Is this what being jealous feels like?
“And that accent! I swear I must have masturbated to the thought of it at least a dozen times. I named my vibrator Pippa Middleton.”
I put a hand to my face. It must be a thousand degrees in here.
“Can we please not talk about Jack and jerking off?”
“Anyway.” Kaylee harrumphs loudly, glancing around to see if anyone’s noticed. “Mostly I wanted to date royalty.”
“He’s not royalty.” I find it impossible not to point this out; Jack’s dad is something or other fancy whatever, but Jack is not.
“Close enough.”
I’m not going to argue with her. I suppose Jack is the closest she’ll ever get to the royal family, unless by some miracle she meets a prince when she’s out of the country. Which is also not likely to happen.
She hates flying as much as I hate storms.
Kaylee puts a hand on the table and leans over, speaking softly. “I really am sorry, Eliza. You should come home.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We regret kicking you out.”
The royal we.
Lilly told me she had nothing to do with my being forced out, but she also didn’t do anything to prevent it, either, and didn’t reach out after the fact.
Yes, yes, I know—she and Kyle were on a break and going through a rough patch.
Still.
Kicked out is kicked out and now I’m butthurt about the entire thing, so the idea of moving back to that house? Ha.
Not bloody likely, as Jack would say.
“Come home? As in, move back?”
Kaylee shrugs, as if that’s answer enough. As if she doesn’t actually want to admit she was wrong.
“Guys aren’t worth it,” she states, tapping her hot pink nails against the tabletop with a grin.
Well, this is where it gets complicated, because not only do I have feelings for Jack, I’ve gone and slept with him! We haven’t discussed where to go from here, but it would certainly complicate things with my former roommates if Kaylee is under the impression I’ve washed my hands of any affectionate feelings toward him simply because I’m living with him now.
Wait a minute.
Unless…
“Do you just not want me living with Jack?” Why this thought entered my mind, I do not know, but it makes perfect sense. “You would rather have me move back in with you than have me live with him?”
Because if she can’t have him, neither can I.
I could live with anyone else and she wouldn’t be standing here asking me back, but because I’m living with Jack, she wants me out of his house and back into hers where she can keep an eye on me.
What the heck.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kaylee says, but she can’t look directly at me. She’s not looking me in the eye, which isn’t a definite sign that someone might be lying, but it’s pretty darn close.
“Please—Kaylee please don’t tell me the reason you want me to move back home is because you don’t want me living with Jack. I thought we were better friends than that.”
“Better friends? We’ve only known each other for two years.” Her chin tilts defiantly as she backtracks and backpedals, dismissing my claim of friendship.
I put my palms on the table as if bracing myself and take a deep breath. A steadying breath. One to calm my nerves. “Listen, I don’t want to argue with you any more than we already have—I don’t think I technically did anything wrong considering Jack and I weren’t dating when you kicked me out of the house.”
“Does that mean you’re dating now?”
“No, that doesn’t mean we’re dating now, it just means we weren’t dating at the time I moved out. To be honest, I don’t know what we are right now, and I don’t know if we’re going to try to figure it out. I’m just not sure this whole asking me to move back in thing is because you miss me.”
I’m sure parts of her do, just not the jealous part.
“I know you think I’m a jealous bitch—and maybe that’s a little true, but I’ve gotten over it.” She gives her hair another flip. “Just so you know, I started dating Connor Rutherford—we’ve been on a few dates and I really like him, so it’s not like I’m going to try to steal Jack back from you.”
Steal him back from me? She says it as if he was hers for me to take. I take anoth
er steadying breath, fighting for a little bit of self-control so I don’t say something I will regret later.
“I think it’s wonderful that you want me to move back in, but I’m really happy where I’m at. Maybe it’s better for our friendship if I’m not living in the same house with you.”
It’s different living with a guy, way less drama and much better food. Not to mention the house is incredible and it might be the only opportunity I have in my life to live somewhere that nice. Who knows where I’ll end up or what kind of job I’ll have, right?
“Suit yourself, but this is our only offer. I’m not going to ask again.”
“That’s fine—I’m happy where I’m at. But thanks for the offer.”
Thanks but no thanks.
Twenty-One
Jack
“I think we should come up with a new set of rules, now that we’ve shagged each other—obviously things aren’t going back to the way they were before, so I propose we set new boundaries.”
Eliza stares at me from across the kitchen counter, fork hovering in front of her mouth, about to take a bite of cantaloupe, a fruit I’ve recently discovered is her favorite. Our fridge hasn’t been without it since she moved in.
Curious.
To me, cantaloupe tastes bland and flavorless, but to each their own.
My roommate slash bedmate sets down her fork. “I’m listening.”
I take the napkin from my lap and lay it on the counter in front of me. “Hear me out before you say anything.”
“All right.” Her back is straight and she’s crossed her hands.
“We shagged. And I like you—nothing casual about it, yeah?”
I wait for her to respond, and slowly, her head bobs up and down. “Yeah.”
“And you like me, yeah? Nothing casual about it.”
Eliza gives me another nod.
Brilliant.
We’re on the same page.
“So I think the original rules—which we’ve had less than a fortnight—should be tossed in the bin, and in their place, we create new ones.” I pause, not trying to be dramatic but knowing it sounds that way. “We can live together, date, and not be up the other’s arse.” Wait. That didn’t come out the way I intended. “I meant—we can date, live together, and not make it weird.”
Better.