I need release.
I go into my bedroom and lie on the bed, pushing my pants down around my ankles. I jerk my rod roughly and I can’t help but imagine Blakely on her knees in front of me. She’s wearing that dress. The one she wore to the wedding. She looks like a fucking angel.
An angel with a cock in her mouth.
I chuckle at the thought but I come so hard that I see stars.
Lying there, panting, I struggle to catch my breath. Sweat beads on my forehead and my heart beats fast. Is it hot in here, or what?
And what’s that smell?
The next thing I know the fire alarm is shrieking throughout the apartment and the sprinklers are flinging water everywhere. Shit!
I leap off of my bed, nearly tripping over my pants. I rush into the smoky kitchen and flick off the oven switch. Opening the oven door, toxic clouds burn my eyes.
That’s what I get for defiling my innocent, little roommate in my mind.
Thankfully, there’s only smoke. No fire. But my throat is sore from the scent of charred pizza. I switch off the water valve on the wall and the sprinklers shut off. After lots of effort, I manage to get the window open.
Only then, do I take a deep breath. I look around me and survey the damage. My dinner is a goner and gray smoke fills the room. Plus, every surface is drenched. Clean up is gonna be a bitch.
Goddamit! The Universe has a fucked up sense of humor.
And just when I think it can’t possibly get worse, I notice Blakely's brand new laptop sitting on the kitchen table. Opened. Charging. Wet.
Fuck!
I spring into action, knowing that every second counts. I act fast, switching off the power breaker before disconnecting the computer from the charger and turning it off in the hopes of preventing damage. Luckily, I don’t get electrocuted. I bring the laptop into my bedroom and set it on the bed. “Ah, fuck me!” I grunt. No time to feel sorry for myself, though.
I commence Operation: Save My Roommate’s Laptop, cursing myself all the way.
After wiping it down with a dry towel, I find a screwdriver to take it apart. I have to work quickly to ensure that the circuit boards don't get damaged. I dry off all the components as best I can, even using the vacuum cleaner to suck out some of the water.
I keep an eye on the clock as I work. I have no idea what time she’ll be back from the wedding. I reassemble the machine and hold my breath as it boots up. Everything is looking good so far. The screen is fine and I don't notice any shorts. To login, I shoot Emily a quick text and ask her for Blakely’s password. (Even though she just changed computers, most people use the same password across multiple devices.) Of course, Emily has tons of questions about what I’m up to. I give her the cliffnotes version of the situation as I log in.
I open a few programs to make sure everything is running as it should. When I open the word processing software, the last document Blakely was working on pops up. Its title catches my eye.
Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate: A Bad Boy Romance.
Pause…What?!
Of course, that piques my curiosity. I scroll further down the page and begin reading.
It starts out innocently enough. Rick, a tall, dark and handsome tech genius from Silicon Valley moves in with Bailey, a broke red-headed college girl. They each try to keep to themselves as best they can.
Blahblahblah…
Next thing I know, the female protagonist is giving herself a heck of an orgasm while sitting on the washing machine and daydreaming about her roomie as his clothes pass through the spin cycle. It’s all described in vivid detail.
Shock runs through my system as my cock twitches in my pants. I can’t take my eyes off of the screen. The more I scroll through the document, the more intrigued and horny I become.
A few paragraphs later, it becomes crystal clear. My innocent, virginal roommate is writing painfully awkward smut...about me.
Chapter 10
Blakely
It’s just after midnight when I close the door quietly behind me just in case Nicholas is sleeping. The lights are off and the place is quiet. He must already be in bed.
I shake out my umbrella and lean it against the wall to dry. I slip out of my coat and my heels, glad that Annaleigh's wedding festivities are finally over. Watching my friend tie the knot was a beautiful and emotional experience. She looked absolutely stunning in an ivory-hued, empire waist gown with minimal lace and beading. Prescott shed a few macho-tears during the ceremony and his mother gave a long, drunken speech at the reception, reiterating her readiness for grandchildren. And Ambrose Carlton, the sexually-overzealous best man? He avoided me like the plague all night, almost as if he thought he’d be accused of fathering my mythical fetus if we somehow ended up in the same photo or something.
All-in-all, it was a great day but now, I just want to rip this dress off and fall into bed.
As I tiptoe past the kitchen, I falter midstride when something catches my eye on the table.
My computer. Open. The pale light of the screen glowing in the dark.
That’s when it hits me. I forgot it there this afternoon. I was playing music on it as I got ready for the wedding and then Nicholas came in with his sexy, distracting self and I forgot my laptop on the kitchen table!
Fuck!
I guard my computer under lock and key. I don't let anyone near it. It contains the most private of information. My romance manuscripts. Seeing it sitting casually on the kitchen table is giving me a brain aneurysm. I’d be mortified if Nicholas saw what I’ve been up to.
"Hey."
My hand flies to my pounding heart as I spin around to face my shirtless roommate.
"Nicholas!"
"Had a bit of an accident here tonight," he says sheepishly. "Tried to make dinner but I nearly burned down the building instead." He chuckles lightly.
That's when the charred smell hits my nostrils. My eyes move slowly back to the table. "My computer..."
"Yeah, about that...the smoke triggered the sprinkler system and your computer got drenched—"
"Oh my god!" I gasp, hurrying into the kitchen to inspect the damage.
Nicholas' hand shoots out in front of him. "Don't worry. I fixed it. Good as new."
I grab it off of the table and cuddle it in my arms like a precious baby, poking at a few buttons to make sure it works.
"I'm sorry. I put the pizza in the oven. And then, I got distracted. I’m really sorry,” he rambles on.
I speak through gritted teeth. "That was really careless of you." My entire body is hot with restrained rage.
"Come on, Blakely. Don't be mad. It was an accident."
Cradling the laptop closer, I glare at him. "Well, there's a thin line between accident and irresponsible," I snarl. I don’t mean to be a bitch about this but I put this computer on my credit card. I haven’t even started paying for it yet.
I spin on my heel and march in the direction of my room. He's coming after me. "Blakely, aren't we gonna talk about it?"
The edge in his voice causes the hairs to stand on the back of my neck. Somethin’ tells me he’s not talking about the water damage anymore. "About what?" I ask carefully.
"Y'know..." He tilts his head suggestively in the direction of the computer in my arms.
I silently pray to god he isn't insinuating what I think he's insinuating.
But my whole world comes crashing down when he smirks and says, "Taken By My Bad Boy Roommate?"
All the blood drains from my face and adrenaline spills into my veins. I feel a panic attack coming on. "That is private!" I pant, suddenly feeling winded. "I can’t believe you looked at that! What you did was a major invasion of my privacy!"
He watches me, aghast. "Um...you're basing your kinky protagonist on my image and likeness. That's actually an invasion of my privacy."
We square off in the dim hallway, emotions crackling in the space between us. I’m pissed and humiliated and Nicholas looks as smug as ever.
"So, what are you g
onna do?" I growl, challenging him. "Sue me?" I hold his gaze for a long moment before I spin on my heel to walk away. Then I feel his fingers wrap around my wrist, his breath is hot on my neck.
"No, I don't plan on suing you." He says dryly. He spins me toward him.
Both of our bodies pulse wildly. The air is so thick I can hardly breathe. I wish he wasn’t shirtless right now. I wish his broad chest wasn’t rising and falling delectably with his every labored respiration. I wish that the space between my thighs wasn’t throbbing madly. This is a formula for something dangerous and sexy and forbidden. I can feel it pulsing in my blood.
"I was being sarcastic, you asshole." The words are whispered in a lusty tone.
"You want me to apologize? Okay, I’m sorry."
My skin tingles where his fingers are wrapped around my wrist. "That was the most insincere apology ever..." I shrug out of his grasp. I try to stand tall, to look confident. But every part of me feels weak with the way he's looking at me.
"Can I ask you something?" he says in a raspy voice.
I glare at him but I don’t walk away. Instead, I ask, "What?"
"What happens next?"
My pussy throbs at the question. My eyes drop to the floor and my throat closes around my words.
"Don’t be embarrassed, Blakely. Look at me. And answer the question…What happens next?"
My eyes hover around his feet. He tips my chin up with a finger. I take a long, shaky breath before my eyes focus on him for a second. I have to look away again. I can't stand the intensity in his stare.
"You're not very good with eye contact, are you?" I hear the smile in his voice. "Me neither. To me, eye contact is the worst. Locking eyes with someone sort of feels like barging into their personal space. Like looking into their soul, without their permission. Do you know what I mean?"
I nod. It's like he plucked the thought right out of my mind.
"Now tell me – What happens next in your story?"
I swallow, looking up at him. My reflex is to run away from him but something inside whispers that it's okay, it's safe to open myself up to him. "Writer's block..." I whisper, "they're supposed to kiss but I don't know how..." God – I feel so vulnerable talking to him about this. I’ve never spoken to anybody about my writing.
Nicholas is silent for a while as he contemplates my words. But then his eyes reach across the narrow space and hook on mine. He takes the laptop from my grip and sets it at our feet.
"Well maybe he's supposed to approach her in the hallway…" – he steps closer, lessening the space between us – "And they're supposed to have a fight...and he'll apologize. She won’t accept. So then, he'll put his hand on her hip..." – his fingers settle on my waist before sliding slowly over the curve of my ass – "and he'll bury his face in her neck because she smells like strawberries. And summer by the lake." I shiver when his nose touches my flesh and his lips graze my throat, "and he won't go in for the kiss directly. No – he'll put his mouth on her jaw" – his lips trail across my chin – "and she’ll hardly be able to breathe. Maybe he’ll slide his fingers into her hair” – his nails grate tenderly across my scalp – “...how does that sound?”
I can barely nod in response. “Maybe…”
He burrows into the curve of my neck. “Yes. Maybe that's what happens..."
I sense his hesitation, his pause. Impatience ticks in my blood. I want to feel him. I want to taste him. But I'm too heady to even move. So I just whisper. "What happens after that?"
He angles my face, more confident now. “He’ll tilt her head back…and her lips will part…and then…"
The moment his lips brush over mine, my knees go weak. Thank god his hands are gripping my waist, holding me firm against him. I breathe in his scent and a little moan escapes my mouth into his. My lips separate and he seizes the opportunity, sliding his tongue through the small space and I moan again as it touches my lips. His mouth is so soft and warm against mine. I think I’m going to die.
I’m kissing my roommate. I’m kissing my roommate. And I don’t want it to stop.
My hands glide up his rippling abs and lock around his neck, holding tight. He groans when I scratch my nails along the back of his head. The heat between us intensifies and I feel him losing control. He kisses me harder, his hands clenching at my ass, separating the cheeks. I feel my arousal liquefying and pooling in my panties.
His command of my body is so powerful. His kiss is so dominant. I’m aching to give him anything he wants. My body is begging for his hands all over, for his mouth all over. God – I may be a virgin, but right now I’m willing to go as far as he’ll take this.
Instead, he pulls away, panting, his breath fanning over my swollen lips. “Maybe he's supposed to kiss her like that...”
"Yes," I whisper, trembling in agreement, "maybe that's what’s supposed to happen." My pulse has never throbbed so violently, I’ve never felt so needy.
He crouches down and grabs the laptop. He places it in my shaking hands. His fingers skim the length of my throat before clasping around the sensitive flesh. He leans in and his lips brush the lobe of my ear. His tone is gravelly and low. "Now go write that."
With slow movements, he backs away from me and then disappears into his room, leaving me flustered and breathless and wanting him more than ever.
Chapter 11
Nicholas
God.
Why the fuck did I kiss that girl? Why did I put my hands on her?
She’s good and sweet and innocent. And I taint everything I touch. But there I was with her in the hallway, kissing her, touching her, devouring her like the selfish bastard that I am.
Now, I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling, beating myself up, feeling guilty for all the things I want to do to her. But damn, if I got another chance to kiss her, I’d probably do it all over again. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
I’m horny as fuck. I’m aching to be inside of her. I wonder how far she would have let me go if I hadn’t snapped back to my senses and stopped that damn kiss.
That kiss…
She tasted just as sweet as I’d imagined. And she was so soft. And those little sounds she made were designed to drive a man crazy. The feel of her hands on me was almost too much. I’m hard as nails just thinking about it. I momentarily consider jerking myself off again but I remember how well that turned out the last time.
A little voice in the back of my head whispers, she’s just down the hall…
I could just go knock on her door. And ask her to let me inside. Then I’d kiss her again as I peel her out of those frilly, little polka dot panties I saw in the washing machine the other day. I’d touch her pussy, tease her clit, slide two fingers up her little cunt until she was creaming all over my hand. And then, I’d pull her onto my cock and let it swell inside of her, stretching her, pumping into her until we were both delirious and coming hard.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’m delusional. Maybe I need to have my meds changed. Of course she wouldn’t be interested in that. Blakely Hamilton is a good girl.
But maybe she isn’t…
I saw those words in black and white on her computer screen. I know all the naughty things her imagination can come up with. She wrote those things about me. She’s fantasizing about me. She wants to take my cock as badly as I want to give it to her.
Still, that doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know anything about me. Poor innocent thing doesn’t know what she’s in for with a guy like me. She doesn’t know better, but I do.
God, give me the strength to stay away.
Chapter 12
Blakely
It takes more than a little inner encouragement to step out of my bedroom the next morning. My heart is hammering in my throat as I make the seemingly-endless procession from my room to the kitchen.
He kissed me last night.
He pressed me into his body, sealing me in his warmth, and he kissed me. He stole the breath from my lungs, he stole the str
ength from my knees and he bruised my mouth with his full, solid, electric lips. His tongue barged into my mouth and set my whole body on fire.
My virgin cunt wept, aching from wanting to feel his fingers and his shaft in me. I had never been so horny, so ready to be fucked.
And boy, did I have lots to write about when I crawled under my covers. The words just flew off of my fingertips as my characters came alive. Halfway through my writing sprint, my hips were circling against the comforter, moving on their own. Sliding a pillow between my legs and rubbing my pussy against it only made me hornier. I was so hot that I had to put my computer aside and give myself a quiet orgasm that just barely relieved the tension growing inside of me. It wasn't enough. I'm still buzzing, still aching for him. My body is so wound up.
Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Book 5) Page 6