Chapter 7 Letty
LETTY
I’ve never been more excited to see my apartment building than I am tonight.
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy my time with Matthew.
I did. I’m also still trying to decipher the fat tip he left.
Between the referrals I received and now the tip, even with taxes coming out, which maybe Ophelia forgot, since she set me up as a contractor instead of an employee, I have some room to breathe.
I know I’ll have to deal with that situation, but it’s problem for another time when I do my taxes, and believe me, I’ll do them or have to face way too many penalties. I just need a few more months.
Now, as I’m walking up the stairs with the door in sight, my Spidey sense is on high alert.
Those men were at the bar, too, when I walked out, but thankfully, we all left together and waited until we were safely locked in our vehicles before dispersing, or I’d probably have driven directly to Matthew’s penthouse and begged for help.
I banished the thought before I gave it any more energy, driving home in silence while worry settled low in my stomach.
I’ve yet to shake it off and won’t until I’m locked safely behind the door with my roommates.
Speaking of, I’m not even sure they’re home.
Our building doesn’t have dedicated parking spots, a major pitfall and one I’ll eventually be able to fix when I’m able to afford a place of my own.
My requests will definitely be a laundry area in my apartment and parking in front of my door.
Oh, and maybe the second floor versus the third floor. An elevator would be nice, too.
The deadbolt unlocks with a turn of the key before I do the same with the bottom handle, and I’m stepping inside.
It’s eerily quiet, reminding me that it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning.
Mischa and Liv have normal nine-to-five jobs, I’m the oddity in the equation.
As soon as I’m inside, the door closes behind me, and the locks are engaged, I open my purse to reach for my phone.
There’s only a small lamp illuminating the living room.
Every other room is dark. Either the girls are asleep, or they aren’t home.
I continue my trek to my bedroom. The room came furnished, a godsend of help considering delivery people would hate me, and I really didn’t want to lug up a mattress or dresser to the top floor, that’s for sure.
When I enter my bedroom, my bed looks like a cloud of dreams, and while I want nothing more than to faceplant, I can’t.
Not yet. I’m a sweaty mess after going from my cleaning job to waitressing at Twisted Oak.
Sweat, booze, and food really aren’t a good combination for a pleasant smell.
How Matthew could be that close to me and not screw up his nose in revulsion, I have no idea.
“Oh,” I say to the empty room while kicking off my heels and placing my bag, which I use for clothes and shoes, on the floor. My purse goes on top of the dresser, where I always keep it. The group text is aptly named Leasie Geesies.
Mischa: Hey, girls, I’m at Brody’s for the night, maybe tomorrow night, too. Enjoy the peace and quiet
I let out a loud laugh. Mischa and Brody can be very loud at certain times of the day and night. The very reason I sprung for noise-canceling headphones. Were they expensive? Yes. Were they worth it? Absolutely.
Liv: I’m out of town for the weekend. Mom and Dad missed me, which is code for they want to spend time with me. I hope you girls will be hungry, because I’m sure the food I’ll bring home will feed us for a week.
Okay, looks like I have the apartment to myself this weekend. I go about unbuttoning the shirt I hate with every ounce of my being and decide I’m going to take the hottest and longest bath.
Me: Enjoy yourselves. Thank you for letting me know. I look forward to the food and sleeping without the headboard shaking
I finish responding to their texts, which came in hours ago, and strip out of the rest of my clothes.
I won’t walk around naked in our apartment because you never know who might pop in.
The robe I usually wear is where I left it, dangling on the foot of the bed.
My room is messier than usual, a casualty of war during the week when I’m too tired to pick up after myself.
I wrap myself up in the fluffy softness and grab a soft cotton shirt to soak the moisture out of my hair. Sadly, on nights like these, it’s impossible not to wash the long and thick mane. I’ll also have to do it tomorrow, when I’ll have to shave, too. Ugh, being a woman is hell sometimes.
“Wine time.” I grab my phone, place it in my pocket, and walk out of my bedroom. I make a slight detour into the bathroom to get the hot water started, splashing a couple of drops of essential oil into the tub, and then head to the kitchen.
I don’t bother turning on a light. I’ve become used to making little to no noise as well as navigating in the dark.
The light from the refrigerator helps me find the crisp white wine.
Each of us girls has her own taste. Mischa is a vodka girlie, with soda or on the rocks.
Liv loves beer or the alcoholic seltzer waters, no matter the flavor.
Whereas I prefer wine, red or white, but the cheaper, the better, or in this case, free.
I pour myself a healthy glass in the stemware Mischa’s parents purchased for the apartment and head back to the bathroom.
I can feel the aches, pains, and stress leaving my neck and shoulders the closer my feet shuffle me toward the tub.
A big sip of wine and a half a dozen steps later, and I’m enclosed, door shut, lights off, and I place my glass on the counter.
I dig through the drawer until I find what I’m looking for—a lighter to really set the ambiance and have candles flickering while I decompress.
Once I have everything set up, I slide out of my robe and place it on the hook behind the door, then do the same with my hair wrap since I dropped it on the counter earlier.
I grab my glass of wine, fish my phone out of the robe, and go straight for the tub.
My drink goes in one corner, my device in the other, then I dip my toe into the water.
“This is turning out to be the best day ever.” My earlier worries have left the building, and in their place is nothing but sheer bliss.
I sink into the water, keeping it turned on to see where the stopping point will be once I’m submerged, and am happy to see that I still have plenty of room.
Maybe I need to add a garden tub to my list of must-haves whenever I find a place of my own.
I settle in, eyes closing, and it doesn’t take me long to lose myself in the memories.
Tonight, in the tiny alcove, our bodies pressed together.
His presence exudes a dominance I’ve only experienced in the form of a book.
The tips of my fingers touch the pulse point on my neck, the same area Matthew hovered his lips above, wishing he’d take it a step further even though my need to keep to myself and not drag anyone into my past sits right on the surface.
My other hand cups my breast, thumb rolling over the pebbled tip, while I watch as the water beads on my sensitive flesh.
I’m thinking about Matthew in the shower, but instead of him being by himself, I’m there with him.
I’ve got my hand wrapped around his thick cock and am stroking him to completion while swallowing down his low groans with my kiss.
My phone ringing has me sloshing water over the edge, the noise jarring me out of the moment, and when I glance at the screen, the unexpected name flashing makes me do a double-take. I’m also trying to figure out what I should do, answer it or not.
I hit the button, accepting the call, and put it on speakerphone.
“Hello.” I’m breathless for two reasons: one, because I was about to make myself orgasm to the thoughts of Matthew, and two, answering this call has me twisted up with all kinds of emotions—elation, anxiety, wonderment, and even a smidge of excitement.
He doesn’t have to know what I’m doing, right?
“Fuck, Letty.” Matthew doesn’t answer with any greeting besides one that only heightens my arousal.
“It’s late. What are you still doing awake?” I ask, wanting to hear his voice even if it is through the phone. This is a side of me I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about exploring.
“You didn’t respond to my text. Wanted to make sure you made it home safely.” I didn’t see an unread text after checking the group chat, but then again, my only mission was wine and a bath.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, Letty. Now, I’m thinking I interrupted you at exactly the right time. Tell me, kitten, what are you doing?” I hear the rustle of fabric. My thighs close automatically, and the water moves around me.
“I’m in the bathtub.” My eyes close while my fingers continue their lazy movements, swirling patterns along my neck and circling my pebbled nipple.
“I guess that’s only fair. Too bad I’m not there to watch you with my own eyes.” His voice comes out rough and rugged. “I’d rather have you in the shower with me next time. Now, tell me what you’re doing while you’re in the bathtub, wet and naked.” I lick my suddenly dry lips,
“I can’t believe we’re doing this. This is so wrong.” I’m betraying myself by uttering the lie.
“If it’s wrong, why does it feel so right, kitten?
” I rock my hips, tighten my muscles, and roll my nipple between my fingers.
Thank god, I had the forethought of using speakerphone.
“I can imagine you right now, eyes closed, fingers doing what I want mine to do to you. Tell me, where is your hand right now? Is it playing with your pretty tits, or is it between your sweet-as-hell thighs? Thighs I want to bury my shoulders between while I suffocate myself with your intoxicating scent, and have you ripping at my hair while you come on my tongue.” I move from one nipple to the next, not ready for this to be over, the slow build-up.
From my experience with a party of one, it makes the orgasm that much more extreme.
“Matthew,” I mewl, visualizing him here with me. And while eating me out in a tub could get pretty tricky, I’m sure he’d make it work by lifting my bottom half out of the water and licking every drop of wetness from me.
“My kitten likes that. First, tell me what you’re doing.” I can hear the rasp of the zipper on the other end of the line.
“Oh god, Matthew.” I’m at war with myself.
This is going to lead to nothing but problems. It’s an issue for future Letty to deal with, because right now, the only thing I want is for this to play out.
“My breasts. They’re so sensitive, probably more than ever.
” I abandon the pulsing along my neck, ignore the throbbing between my legs, and cup my breasts until they’re out of the water.
“Fuck yeah. Slide your thumbs across the nipples. I bet they’re dusky rose, the same color as your lips, unless they’re darker, similar to how they turn after you’ve been biting and licking them.
Soon, I’m going to slide my mouth over every inch of your body.
Tell me one more thing before I guide you to more.
” As Matthew’s words skate over my body, a shiver rolls through me, and I do exactly as he says.
In fact, I don’t stop. Each rasp of my finger along my nipple makes me come alive even more.
“What’s that?” I asks in between ragged breaths.
“Has anyone else heard you like this? Has anyone else seen you like this? Has anyone else had their hands, mouth, and cock in you?” He fires off the questions one right after the other.
“No, not anyone, no.”
“Good girl. Now, roll your nipples with two fingers, kitten. Soon, you’ll have them buried inside your pussy.” His praise makes my back arch away from the ledge, toes pushing on the other side at his response, and a moan escape my lips.
“I’ve never, umm, never had anything inside me before, not even fingers.” Why I just told him the truth, I have no idea. Maybe it’s the thrill of doing the unexpected, or maybe it’s because I’m finally ready to let go of some of the always-in-control Letty persona.
“And I’ll be the first and last person to hear you, see you, and feel you come.
” Between my breathing and his, it’s hard to hear the background noise in whatever room Matthew is in, but there are signs.
The slight sounds of flesh meeting flesh, and I’m sure he’s doing a twisting movement with each upward and downward motion.
“Yes, I need more. Please.”
“Fuck yes, you do. Pinch your nipples for me, kitten. Imagine it’s me doing it.
Work yourself for me. I’m tempted to abandon my cock, grab my keys, drive to your place, and watch as you do this in front of me.
And when it becomes too much for you to finish, I’ll take over.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Letty?” I can feel the pull at my core, clenching for something, anything.
My clit throbs, begging for my fingers, and yet Matthew’s filthy mouth is telling me what to do. The feeling is indescribable.
“More, Matthew, please more.”
“My kitten wants more, more is what she’ll get. Slide your hand down your stomach. Do it slowly and keep working your nipple. I want you to have it all, even if I’m not there to do it for you.” I do as he says. Every command Matthew gives me only turns me on further.
“What then?” I ask, slightly strumming my lower abdomen, sucking in a breath the closer I get to the small thatch of hair I keep neatly trimmed.
“Then it’s only going to get better.”