by Noir, Roxie
“I was plenty hospitable last night,” she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You’re the one who’s overstayed his welcome.”
“Have I?”
“It’s nearly ten.”
“And I’m sure you’re raring to get up and start your day.”
Violet lifts herself on her elbows, her pillow under her chest. The sheet slips down her back, still covering her ass, the curves of her breasts pressing outward.
I stare. I already had morning wood, but now it’s quickly becoming Violet is naked underneath that sheet wood.
“Don’t let me stop you from your planned Sunday of productivity,” I go on. “I’ll just be here. Let me know if my services are required.”
Now Violet laughs.
“What, if I need a jar opened?”
“Come on, Violet, you know what I’m good for.”
She just raises one eyebrow.
“Cooking and fucking,” I say.
Violet turns pink, the color flushing down her neck. It’s gratifying as hell, even though she looks away for a moment.
“I’m not bad at jars, either,” I admit after a moment. “But I imagine I could be of service somehow.”
Violet looks at me. She’s not laughing anymore, not blushing. Actually, she looks a touch worried.
“Is there some skill I haven’t covered?” I ask after a long moment.
“We should talk,” she says.
“Aren’t we?”
“About this,” she says, circling one finger over the two of us. “About what exactly this is.”
“Pretty sure this is us naked in your bed, unless this is some kind of prank show and one of these walls is about to fall down and reveal a studio audience,” I say, still in a punchy mood. I don’t want to talk about our relationship at the moment. Maybe in an hour, after I’ve had some coffee and breakfast.
Right now, I’d like to roll Violet over on top of me and watch her ride my cock like a cowgirl. In fact, that’s pretty much the only thing on my mind.
Violet ignores that studio audience thing and looks at me seriously, the sharks darting back and forth.
“I still don’t think we should date,” she says, her voice suddenly serious and quiet.
I push myself off my stomach and onto my side, my elbow under my head, the sheet still haphazardly draped over my waist. Violet’s eyes dart down, then back up just as quickly.
I let the words settle for a minute, watching her, an odd twinge of disappointment working its way inward, somewhere behind my sternum.
I don’t know why. She was right yesterday morning and she’s right now. I don’t like her. She doesn’t like me. We don’t get along. We can’t have a conversation without arguing, and that’s pretty much the bare minimum for dating.
If we tried, we’d both end up miserable, and that’s for damn sure.
I just wish she’d said this when she was less naked.
“All right,” I say, cock still throbbing. “You picked a hell of a time to say it, though.”
She glances down again. I roll onto my back, arms behind my head, erection pointing heavenward. Her eyes dart back to mine.
“I don’t think we should date,” she says, valiantly looking me right in the eyes. “It’s clearly not going to work. We can’t stand to be around each other, we can barely talk without —”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed we don’t like each other,” I say. “And I’m well aware of all the things you don’t like about me, no need to repeat them since you outlined them all yesterday.”
“I think we should be friends with benefits,” she says.
I admit, it takes me by surprise.
“Are we friends?” I ask after a moment.
She’s still looking deeply into my eyes, her gaze not wavering for a moment.
“It’s just a phrase,” she says. “I just mean that… there’s no reason not to have a physical relationship, even though an emotional one clearly wouldn’t work. But I’m not seeing anyone, you’re not seeing anyone…”
She trails off, like she’s looking for confirmation.
“Is that a question?” I say.
“You’re not, are you?”
“You don’t think you should’ve asked that at some point before last night?” I tease.
Violet rolls her eyes and adjusts the pillow underneath her. I almost see nipple. Almost.
“You know, Eli, there’s a lot wrong with you —”
“I do love it when you sweet talk me.”
“ — But you ain’t the cheatin’ type,” she finishes, an extra twang in her words and a smile in her eyes.
“For once, you’re right,” I finally tell her.
I look at her. She looks back, clearly determined not to look at my dick, tenting up the bed sheets like there’s a circus in there as my capacity for talking gets shorter and shorter.
“All right, Violet, let me get this straight,” I say, slowly, letting my eyes trail down her body. “You want to bang me like a screen door —”
“Oh, my God,” she mutters.
“ — and then kick me out, and I don’t have to take you to dinner and a movie or anything?”
“Right.”
The twinge digs a little deeper, and I continue to ignore it.
“You’re not gonna be mad if I don’t get you flowers on your birthday, or Valentine’s day,” I say.
Violet just snorts.
“You’re not gonna pester me to meet my family?”
“Eli, I already know your family,” she points out. “They’re all much nicer than you.”
I slide one arm underneath her, grab her by the waist, and pull her in toward myself as she yelps.
“There’s gotta be some catch,” I say, pulling her onto my chest.
She just laughs.
“We don’t even have to talk,” she says.
“Then what the hell are we doing?” I ask, and pull her lips down to mine.
The kiss is lazy and slow. I grab her leg and pull her until she’s straddling my hips, pressing my aching cock against my belly. She rolls her hips against it and I groan out loud, my fingers digging into her flesh.
Right now I’ll do anything she says, so long as she doesn’t stop.
“We’re good, right?” she asks, coming up for air, her hands on my chest. I slide my hands up her torso until her stiff pink nipples are between my fingers, and then I squeeze, watching her eyes slide shut, her hips rolling again, the pressure on my cock delicious.
She’s already wet as she rubs herself on me, her lips slippery against the base of my shaft. I pinch her nipples again and she sighs, a tremor moving through her body, grinding against me harder.
It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. The only time she’s prettier than when she’s angry is when she’s like this, flushed and rapturous and wet as hell.
“We’re good,” I tell her, ignoring the twinge again.
Violet just moans. The sound makes my cock twitch as I watch her undulate on top of me.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
I slide my arms under her legs and grab her ass.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I say, pulling her forward.
Violet yelps again, but seconds later I’m beneath her, her thighs on either side of my face, my arms holding her down.
I lick her once, just to taste, and she gasps.
She’s delicious. I lick her again, my tongue between her lips, nudging against the tightness of her entrance, moving up to her clit.
She moans. I write my name on her like I’m marking my territory and her body jolts with every flick of my tongue. Violet leans against the wall, her eyes closed, one hand buried in my hair, her nipples stiff pink peaks poking out beyond the swell of her breasts.
It’s a great view.
I write my name again. The whole damn thing, ELIJAH LOVELESS, and now she’s gasping in between moans. I slide two fingers into her and her juices drip down as she clenches around me. She’s closer than I thought and I lick her again, crook my fin
gers, stroke that spot inside her that makes her thighs tremble.
Her hand tightens in my hair. Her moans are high-pitched, breathy. It sounds like she’s biting her lip, trying not to make any noise, but I’m winning that battle as I lick her harder, faster, because if this relationship is purely physical then it’s at least going to be goddamn good.
Her legs tremble. She gasps, the sound echoing off the wall, her hips bucking as she presses herself into my face like she can’t control herself. I’m lost in her sweetness, in her beautiful musky scent, in the tremors that move through her with every flick of my tongue as I write my name on her again.
Violet comes on the final S. I’ve got two fingers buried deep, her whole body shaking and trembling. She flutters around my fingers, her body tensing, her toes curling as she moans against her trailer’s thin wall.
Oops.
I meant to tease her, get her close and then pull away, but then I couldn’t stop. Violet’s intoxicating, addictive. She moans, her pussy clenches again, and I flick my tongue softly past her clit, her whole body jerking as I do.
God, that’s satisfying. She doesn’t say anything but she’s breathing hard. My eyes are open, watching her chest heave as I pull my fingers out and lick them off.
She’s still leaning against the wall and gathering her wits as I reach up and grab the second condom from where I left it on the nightstand last night. I roll it on, because I’ve still got every intention of watching her ride my cock.
I scoot her down. She leans in and kisses me, her hand still in my hair, her taste still on my lips. If she notices, she doesn’t seem to mind as she drifts her other hand down my body. Everywhere she touches lights me up, tiny fires trailing from my shoulder to my stomach, down my treasure trail until she finally wraps her hand around my cock.
I wrap my hand around hers, let her stroke me a few times before she finally sits up, her hands on my chest, and she guides me to her entrance.
I brace myself just before she takes me in a single stroke, plunging me deep and Jesus tapdancing Christ, I swear it feels even better than it did last night.
And the view. She starts riding me, slowly, and I don’t think there’s any sight in the world like Violet naked and on my cock.
I put my arms behind my head so I can watch her. Her tits bounce with every stroke. Every time she hilts me, a little moan escapes from her lips, her pussy clenching slightly, her eyes fluttering closed. Violet is warm, tight perfection, and every stroke makes it harder to breathe.
She moves faster. She bites her lip, her eyes closed now, her movements harder, more demanding. I move my hands to her thighs, her hips. I meet her with every thrust, feeling her quiver, listening to her moan even as I clench my teeth.
I can’t last much longer, not like this. Not when it feels this good, like we were designed to fit together so well.
Violet leans back, her hands on my thighs, and I gasp. She moans explosively with the new angle, slows, pauses. She clenches around me, muscles quivering, fluttering as I close my eyes, take a deep breath against the heat gathered in my belly.
She arches, takes me. It takes all my force of will not to come, and I slide one thumb up to her clit, starting circling her.
“Oh, God,” she whispers. “That feels good.”
“That’s the idea,” I manage to say.
“Don’t stop,” she murmurs.
My balls tighten, the liquid heat in my belly threatening to spill out so I pull her hips down onto mine harder, circle her clit faster with my thumb.
“You don’t have to say that,” I tell her, my voice coming out rough and low. “I do know full well not to stop when you’re seconds from coming on my cock.”
“Shut up,” she whispers, body flexing, tits bouncing. I hold my breath, reaching the very end of my rope, barely able to hold back any longer.
Then she proves me right. Violet comes hard, her head back, her pussy clamping around me, even tighter than before as she sighs and moans, not stopping for an instant.
I’m two seconds behind her, drawing her down onto me, shooting myself deep inside her as she coaxes it out of me, coming in jolt after jolt, totally at her mercy.
Violet leans down to kiss me when she’s finished. Right now she’s all softness and warmth, her prickles and hard edges gone. She’s willing and molten, practically gooey in my arms.
Maybe we don’t have to talk, I think, practically high as a kite on her. Maybe we never have to talk again. We get along just fine like this.
After a long, slow kiss she rolls off of me and onto her back, my arm under her neck. She’s still breathing hard, her skin flushed, her hair spread over her pillow and my arm, wild.
Shit, she’s beautiful. I’m sure it’s got something to do with the fact that I came so hard I feel like I might never walk again, but she’s beautiful. A man could just about go blind looking at her.
Finally, the sharks make their way over to me, and she studies my face. I wonder what she’s thinking but don’t want to ask, so instead, I let this moment play out for a long time.
At last she clears her throat, looks down, licks her lips.
“See?” she says.
“See what?”
“I was right,” she says.
I put my other arm behind my head, narrow my eyes, study her.
“About what?”
“That this was a good idea.”
“I don’t remember disputing that,” I say. “In fact, I think you could take my actions as enthusiastic agreement.”
“I didn’t say you were wrong,” Violet says. “I just said I was right.”
“That implies that someone was wrong and I’m the only one here,” I tell her.
“Fine. We were mutually right, happy?”
The answer is yes, actually, because I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be right now than post-coitally arguing with Violet. If nothing else, she’s always interesting.
“Sure,” I confirm. “Is this the part where you kick me out, or did you want to exploit my other talent first?”
She rolls over, toward me, her hair tickling my shoulder as she puts her face down on my bicep, eyes laughing.
“That did make me hungry,” she teases.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eli
Daniel turns his head as I enter the kitchen, tossing my keys on the table.
“Call Mom, she thinks you’re dead,” he says, still washing dishes.
I glance at the clock. It’s coming up on one in the afternoon.
He puts a final mug in the drying rack, grabs a towel, and turns around, wiping the dishwater off his hands.
“Are you?” he asks.
“Hilarious.”
“You forgot to call last night. She’s convinced you’re face-down in a ditch somewhere right now. I barely talked her out of calling the cops,” he says. “She wound up taking Rusty to the park to get her mind off your death.”
I lean against the table.
“She knows I’m twenty-nine, right?” I ask.
“And yet you’re living at home.”
“If that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black,” I say as Daniel dries his hands off.
“I’ve got a good reason,” he says. “You, on the other hand, have been freeloading for three months now.”
“I wasn’t sure I was staying,” I say.
“Are you?”
“I’ve got no plans to leave,” I tell him.
Not that it hasn’t crossed my mind. Sprucevale is the exact same small town I left ten years ago, with all the good and the bad that comes along with it.
“But you haven’t signed a lease or even bought a couch,” he points out.
“I bought a stand mixer because Mom didn’t have one,” I say. “It’s right there.”
“What a commitment.”
“It’s a really nice stand mixer.”
Daniel sighs. He leans back against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, dressed in lazy Sunday gear —
sweatpants and an old t-shirt that says GO WITH THE FLOW! SPRUCEVALE RIVER FEST on it in faded letters.
“Are you deliberately changing the subject from you not coming home the last two nights?” he asks.
Yes. Yes, I am.
“I called Friday,” I protest.
“True,” he says, in a tone that still demands explanation.
“I had to work late last night,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “And I actually came home around two, then went out again —”
“Nah,” he says.
“I got drunk with some coworkers —”
“You know I’m not going to believe any explanation that doesn’t involve Violet, right?”
I lean back in my chair, drumming my fingers on the table.
“Fine. I slept with Violet,” I finally say.
Daniel just nods. I’ve never seen anyone look less surprised.
“I’m not sure it was a good idea,” I say, slowly, studying at the back of my hand on the table.
“Because it was bad, or because it’s Violet?” he asks.
Daniel has always had my measure the most of all my brothers. It’s probably because we’re so close in age, but I’ve never been able to get much past him. Thankfully, he’s also the chill one.
“Because it’s Violet,” I say. “It wasn’t bad at all.”
Understatement of the year.
“She thinks we should just be fuckbuddies,” I say.
“Are you buddies?” Daniel asks.
I just spread my hands and shrug dramatically.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Usually I at least like the people I have sex with. This is new territory.”
Not that I’ve had sex with tons of people, or any at all in the past six months. But the women I date and sleep with usually at least get along with me.
“So you and Violet Tulane, the girl whose name I’ve heard come out of your mouth more than anyone else since time immemorial, are just casually having sex and that’s it,” he says.
I don’t like the way he says it.
“Right,” I say.
“You had a two-night sex bender and it was no big deal.”
“Friday night I really was at work,” I say. “Violet’s order of origami cranes came in low so I helped her fold…”