Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Book 5)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  I freeze in the entrance to the kitchen, sensations firing and misfiring through my blood as I watch him working at the sink. He's shirtless with sweatpants hanging low on his toned, round ass. The muscles in his back work overtime, bunching and relaxing as he scrubs the burnt pizza off of the baking tray from last night's cooking disaster. The faint smell of charred dough and tomato sauce still lingers in the air, adding to the discomfort in my throat. The washing machine churns away in the corner.

  The urge to run back into my room is so strong. I want to hide from the intense desire I feel for him. When you've held onto your virginity for as long as I have, you’re quite familiar with the perils of sexual frustration. But this feeling is different. It's intense and all-consuming and it's directed exclusively at the man sharing these four walls with me.

  Yes, Blakely…the man sharing these four walls with you. Your roommate. The guy you have to face everyday. Get yourself together, girl!

  "Good morning." My voice cracks as I muster the fortitude to step into the kitchen.

  Nicholas shuts off the pipe and grabs the towel from the hook as he turns to face me. "Good morning, Blakely, " he rasps.

  My temperature spikes at the sensation of his eyes on me. He’s so intense. So virile.

  "Did you sleep well?" he asks as he leans a hip against the counter and trains his full attention on me.

  I nod because no words can squeeze past the enormous knot in my throat. I set my computer on the table and plug it into the charger.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you up with the washing machine.” He tips his chin in the direction of the washer.

  “No. No, you didn’t.”

  Two large strides and he's standing so close I can feel waves of heat radiating off of his body. "How's your writing going?"

  I blush and my chest rises on a sharp intake of air. "Good." I can’t believe that someone knows about my writing. It’s been my biggest secret for the longest time. And now, here I am discussing it with Nicholas.

  Disappointment comes to his face. His mouth turns down and his eyes fill with remorse. "I was kind of hoping it was going to shit."

  I laugh in shock at his bluntness. "What? Why?"

  He licks his lips discreetly and his voice turns husky. "Because I was hoping that you still needed inspiration…” His tone drops lower. “I really want to kiss you again." His focus latches onto my mouth and he honest-to-god looks like he's about to eat me whole. He traces a finger across my bottom lip. "You're so fucking delicious."

  I turn the color of beets and stumble backward. I gaze up at him from under my lashes, feeling silly over my reaction. He literally makes me weak in the knees. “I-I’m good for now,” I stammer breathlessly. It’s a lie. I’ve run out of ideas again and my manuscript has stalled.

  A determined look shapes his brow. He leans in close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. "Oh, well. I guess there’s always next time…If you ever find yourself hunched over that keyboard in the middle of the night and drawing a blank, you know where to find me." With that, he turns to pad toward the hallway.

  Lord – I have never felt such an urge to tear off my panties and offer myself up. This man is going to break me. I feel the space between my legs growing slippery with need.

  I don't know what possesses me in that moment, but I can’t let him just leave. There's an otherworldly force pushing me forward. "Nicholas. Wait..."

  He stops and faces me. My heart drums erratically and shaky strides draw me to him. What the hell am I doing? The heat of his body seems to reach out and draw me closer. My nervous tongue swipes my lips. I want to kiss him. I want to reach up and pull his face to mine, feel his fuzzy cheeks under my fingertips. Instead, I stand there, mute with anxiety.

  The pad of his finger touches the corner of my mouth and slowly traces the outline of my top lip and then my bottom lip. "Blakely, I'll ask you again – how's your writing going?"

  I swallow against the urge to lie. Instead, I retreat from his reach and log into my computer. "I've hit another wall," I say as I angle the screen toward him. "They've kissed, but now I don't know what should happen next." Frustrated, I shove my fingers through my hair as he leans over the table, perusing the screen.

  I watch his profile as he reads. Thin lines appear on his face. Concentration is so damn sexy on him. The temptation to run my hands over the ropey muscles of his back, to press my breasts to his ribs is strong.

  He straightens up and faces me, completely silent, his eyes fixed on mine.

  "What...?" I ask in a quiet voice so afraid that he'll tell me I have no talent and I should pick up a new hobby.

  My eyes dip to the floor. But on their way down, they catch on something; his growing erection under the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

  "Let me show you, Blakely." He coils his fingers around mine. "I want to show you what happens next."

  I gasp, my nipples tingling at the offer. "Nicholas..."

  My belly clenches needily as his hand climbs the back of my neck, pulling my face closer. His lips brush across mine, so quick, so soft I feel my chest curving closer for more contact. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell that he's smiling. He's toying with me. But I don’t want to play.

  I push forward and this time, his mouth crashes down on mine. A range of lusty sensations sweep through my body. His tongue presses past my lips and tangles with mine. He holds me flush to his bare chest and I feel the heavy thud of his heart vibrating between us.

  Sounds I'm not familiar with pour out of my body. This is all so new, so disorienting. For a moment, it feels like I'm living someone else's life. Maybe one of the heroines from one of my books. But then, I hear Nicholas groan my name as his hands slide down the bend of my spine, and I'm reminded that it's me, in my kitchen, with my roommate.

  Winded, I pull back slightly and he rests his forehead on mine.

  "I was aching all night to kiss you again, Blakely. I was dreaming about tasting this soft little pink mouth." He tastes me again with deep and languid strokes of his tongue. When he breaks the kiss, I sway on weak knees. He sits his hand on my waist and his fingers crawl across my sensitive flesh. "Let's explore this story together, Blakely. Let's take this piece of fiction and turn it into a fucking biography."

  I twist a lock of hair around my finger as anxiety riots in my belly. "I want that," I groan, knowing it's time to tell him the truth. "But Nicholas…I'm a virgin."

  Chapter 13

  Nicholas

  She’s a virgin.

  Fuck – she’s a virgin.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. The always-shy eyes and constantly blushing cheeks should have been a dead giveaway. But I guess that after I found her naughty little manuscript, I ruled out the possibility that someone with such a filthy mind isn’t actually writing from experience.

  Now that I know that precious, little Blakely has never given herself to another man, I should stop. I should stop kissing her, stop touching her. But I don’t want to. I don’t think I can.

  I want to be the first man, the only man to get inside of her. The desire is so strong, so territorial.

  I want to see the look of pain and pleasure and abandon in her eyes as my cock tears through her innocence. I want to plunge my shaft between the lips of her pussy and drown in a heat that no man has ever felt before.

  But I know I shouldn’t want that.

  My self-restraint finally wins out. I take a step away from her, letting my hands fall away from her body.

  She’s a virgin.

  “Please, don’t stop, Nicholas. Don’t stop kissing me.” A chill skitters across my skin when I hear her begging for me. I can hardly believe my ears.

  “What?”

  “Don’t stop kissing me just because I’m a virgin,” she pleads in her quiet, understated way.

  And man, hearing her beg is the best. It’s almost as if her words are reaching into my pants to give my cock a firm tug. The difference between right and wrong go down the spin cy
cle as I grab hold of her and hoist her roughly onto the washing machine. There’s so much urgency in my movements, so much lust.

  But Blakely doesn’t seem taken aback at all. She’s right there with me, roughly grabbing hold of my face and crushing her sweet lips to mine. I feel more alive than I ever have. I’m completely desperate to taste every part of her. Settling between her thighs, I clench her fiery hair in my fist and pull her neck back. A sound so primal, so raw escapes her lips when I grate my teeth along her throat. I suck on her flesh with no regard for the fact I’ll bruise her tender skin, leaving marks and sore spots behind. A thrill runs up my spine when her fingers find their way under my shirt and claw their way up my sides.

  The machine switches cycles and I feel a wicked desire tightening in my stomach. I shove my hands under her ass and pull her pelvis closer to mine. I angle her body for the perfect contact, thrusting hard against her center. Her moan fills the air. She abandons herself to me.

  I can feel how much she wants me. I can smell it in the air. Even through the layers of clothing separating us.

  And suddenly, this – making out with her on the washing machine – isn’t enough.

  I pick her up and she wraps herself around me. I push aside everything on the kitchen table. It all falls to the floor like a clichéd movie scene. I lay her down on the table and now she’s spread out for me. Like a crazed caveman, I grab at the legs of her pants, pulling them down her body. Her pale, shapely thighs are bared to me and when her legs fall open, there’s a visible wet spot at her core. Yes, her arousal is seeping through the crotch of her pink cotton panties.

  “Fuck, Blakely,” I groan, “you’re killing me right now.”

  She writhes on the table, her body begging for me. “Touch me, Nicholas.”

  I don’t waste a second. I push her panties aside and find her pussy, silky and wet. After just a few strokes, my hand is completely coated, soaked in her juices. “God. This is insane,” I mumble, “You’re so fucking ready for me.”

  I lean over the table and kiss her, swallowing her groans as my fingers circle her pulsing clit. She holds my head in place, almost like she’s afraid that I’ll stop, that I’ll change my mind.

  Not a chance.

  She grinds her greedy pussy against my fingers as pleasure surges within her. A tortured scream rips from her throat. “That’s it, Princess. Don’t hold back.” With my free hand, I cradle her breast, massaging it tenderly as she comes for me. It’s a long and hard climax that turns her trembling body red.

  I rip off my shirt and my pants as she recovers, lying there all beautiful and satiated with her crazy hair and her sweaty skin. But when I step out of my boxers and climb on top of her, angling my rock-solid cock over her pussy, something instantly changes in her face.

  Blakely recoils, panting, and looks at me with wide eyes. “Are you going to fuck me?” The vulnerability in her voice, the innocence on her face – they jolt me.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I about to take this sweet girl’s virginity on the fucking kitchen table? What the fuck, you Neanderthal!

  I stumble off of her, running a hand over my mouth. “Shit – I’m sorry,” I mutter feeling like an asshole, “I got carried away.”

  Blakely rises up, propping herself up on her elbows. She purses her lips and jams her thighs shut. “I – I – it’s okay,” she stutters, “I got carried away, too. I just – I’m sorry. I –”

  “No, don’t apologize.” She’s done nothing wrong. I’m the one who obviously can’t control myself. One taste of her and I’ve completely lost my mind.

  She climbs gingerly off of the table and crouches to gather her pants from the floor. “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I really am.”

  And she scurries away to her bedroom.

  Chapter 14

  Blakely

  I’m so fucking disappointed in myself.

  The perfect opportunity presented itself. Nicholas was naked, on top of me, touching me the way I’ve been fantasizing about. And I chickened out. I ran away when what I really wanted was to give him all of me. I wanted to give him my virginity.

  Now, he’s the one avoiding me.

  Instead of watching movies on the couch like he usually does, last night he went straight into his room when he got home from work. He made a quick cameo in the kitchen this morning to grab an energy drink before heading to work, but he ducked out of the house before I built up the courage to raise the topic with him. It’s almost like he feels he’s done something wrong or that he’s taken advantage of me.

  And me? After one hell of a ‘self-love’ session under my covers, I was up writing into the wee hours of the morning. When he touches me, it’s like magic. The words just flow off of my fingers.

  But it’s not enough. I want more.

  I want it so bad I might even be able to pin down my shyness for long enough to act on my desire.

  I pace back and forth in the tiny foyer until I hear keys in the door just after 6:30 in the evening.

  “Blakely.” Nicholas steps into the apartment carefully, moving slowly, almost as if he’s afraid that he’ll spook me.

  I don’t want to beat around the bushes. I need to just say something to him before I lose my nerve. “I need to talk to you,” I state past the lump in my throat.

  With wary eyes fixed on me, he kicks off his sneakers on the mat and slides his backpack off of his shoulders. “Sure.” He follows me into the kitchen and sits at the table across from me.

  I pull in a deep breath. I already feel like I’m chickening out again. I can’t do this. I can’t just look him in the eye and tell him that I want him to be the first man I have sex with. I’m not the kind of girl who makes statements like that. I don’t just grab the bull by the horns (or maybe I should say, by the balls) and take what I want. I’m the type of person who usually just takes what comes to me. It’s usually the scraps.

  But now, I want him. And he’s the whole package. Tall and handsome. Smart, kind and cocky as hell. Plus, I know that he knows exactly what to do with my body.

  When I imagine losing my virginity, I want it to be with someone like him. If I’m honest with myself, that’s why I started writing Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate in the first place. I wanted to express my deepest fantasy, get it all out on paper. So, why does Bailey get to have all the fun with Rick? Why do my fictional characters get to be more alive than I do?

  Nah, it’s time for me to woman up and take what I want.

  And what I want is to fuck my roommate.

  Now, if only I could get the words out of my mouth.

  I spend so long trying to formulate my first sentence that Nicholas ends up speaking first. “I’m really sorry about the other day –”

  “Don’t be,” I say quickly. I pause, then sigh. “I just wish I hadn’t bolted before we finished what we started…”

  Nicholas’ eyebrows dart up in surprise. He swallows hard causing his Adam’s apple to bob, but he says nothing.

  “All my life, I’ve been the quiet girl in the shadows letting life happen to me, hiding from the spotlight, too timid to really be myself,” I admit, “None of my friends know about my writing. I’d be mortified if they found out the filthy things I write as BJ Hamilton. When I found out that you’d read my manuscript, I almost died…but then you kissed me…and I felt more alive than I ever have.” I take a deep breath and sit up straighter in my chair. “I needed you to kiss me like that, Nicholas. I still need it.”

  His eyes narrow in on my face. His expression is so serious it almost scares.

  I immediately feel like an idiot for putting myself out there like that. I back peddle. “I – it really helped with my writer’s block.”

  He looks at me like he knows I’m bullshitting. “I don't beat around the bushes Blakely and I don’t play games so if you have something to say to me, say it. If you want something from me, just ask. Don't expect me to figure it out. That's the way my brain is wired.”

  I pull in a deep breath. "Okay.
What I'm trying to say is, I like the way it feels when you touch me. And I want more. I want everything. I want you to take my virginity."

  Chapter 15

  Nicholas

  I look at her like my eyes are about to fall out of my head. My fists are on the table, balled so tight that they’re turning white. She can’t be saying the words that I’m hearing. My mind is fucking with me.