8. Ari
eight
Ari
I’ve done it before, but the fourteen-hour flight between Seoul and New York City is always exhausting.
And it just means that today is going to drag. My morning flight left Seoul at eight, and the time difference means I landed in NYC at ten.
In the morning.
On the same day.
I’m ready for bed, but I still have an entire day ahead of me.
When I swing the door to my penthouse open, I’m reminded of just how long that day is going to be.
Lucia Torres stands in my kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee.
Even in my tired state, I don’t miss the way her white T-shirt hugs her body. I also don’t miss the way her jeans accentuate the curves of her ass.
I don’t like her, but she’s got a damn nice body.
She looks over at me, taking in my disheveled appearance. “You look tired.”
“No shit,” I chide, rolling my eyes. “I just got off a fourteen-hour flight, and due to the time change, it’s only two hours later now than it was when I took off. I’m exhausted.”
“Did you, um… have a good time?”
I look at her in surprise. “Didn’t expect you to care.”
“I’m trying to be nice, Morgan.”
I laugh and roll my suitcase to rest against the wall before I join Lucia in the kitchen. “You don’t need to make small talk.”
She huffs. “It’s not like I know what normal is for this situation.”
“You think I do?” I reply, pulling myself up to sit on the counter. “I haven’t had a roommate since college.”
“I doubt you even saw your roommate that often.”
“Are you slut shaming me, Spitfire?”
Lucia rolls her eyes. “I don’t care that you fuck around. Just pointing out that you probably spent more nights in someone else’s bed, Casanova.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” I chuckle, resting my head on the cabinet behind me.
“Sounds like a lot of disappointed women to me,” she smirks, taking a sip from her mug.
I smirk back. “I don’t leave anyone unsatisfied.”
“Is that so?” Her voice is teasing, and with the exhaustion clouding my judgment, the sound sends a jolt straight to my dick.
And that exhaustion is clearly the only reason this conversation takes the turn it does.
My tongue wets my bottom lip as I leer over her. “Never had a complaint. And the participants are always very enthusiastic.”
“Because you have a reputation,” she breathes. “Doesn’t mean you’re good in bed.”
“Wanna find out? You’d have the best night of your life.”
Lucia cocks her head to the side. “I find that hard to believe.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re a fuckboy,” she shrugs. “You get your dick wet and leave. That’s the way it goes.”
I breathe out a laugh and shake my head. “You’ve been with the wrong men, then.”
She turns defensive now. “It’s not always like that for me because I don’t date fuckboys. The men I’ve dated were always better than the men I only slept with.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Micropenis Matt was great in the sack.”
In the nearly two years I’ve known her, I’ve yet to figure out exactly what pisses Lucia off.
Based on her expression now, though, I guess insulting her ex-boyfriend does it.
“Matt had a good dick,” she scoffs. “Better than yours, I’m sure.”
“Feel free to find out.”
“You’re so fucking annoying.” Lucia stares at me, arms crossed defiantly. “I don’t want to see your dick. I could ask half the women in this city if I ever wanted to know about it.”
“Not according to the NDAs they’ve signed,” I smirk because, for some reason, I can’t not push things when it comes to Lucia Torres.
“You’ve been here for ten goddamn minutes, and I already regret moving in,” she scolds, walking off in a huff as her long, black hair falls down her back.
I lean back and chuckle to myself.
I don’t like her being here, but I sure as hell can have some fun with this.
An afternoon nap leaves me feeling much better than I did this morning. I have enough energy to get a workout in, so I hop out of bed and get ready for the gym.
One of the reasons I bought this place when I signed with the Stars was the fact that I have my own gym. I can work out without people gawking at me while I do.
What I wasn’t counting on, though, was me doing some gawking of my own.
Lucia is already in here, having started her own workout while I was still sleeping.
I’m thankful her back is still turned to me because now she can’t see the way I’m eyeing her. Tight athletic leggings clinging to her legs and just a black sports bra on top. I avert my gaze when she turns around, but I still catch the way the fabric stretches across her tits.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she says quickly, taking out one of her earbuds. “Do you want me to leave?”
“What?” I ask. “Why would I ask you to leave?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re used to working out alone. I’m not trying to distract you.”
“You’re not going to distract me. Carry on. I’m going to do my own thing.”
Lucia nods before replacing her earbud and getting back to the dumbbells in front of her.
I decide to settle on the treadmill at the back of the room. I start out at a walking pace before moving up to a steady jog.
It’s nice and relaxing, and Lucia isn’t at all distracting.
…until she decides to start doing squats.
I about fall off the damn treadmill when she does that. She thankfully misses the commotion, and I right myself before she ever notices.
But that doesn’t mean I take my eyes off of her. My gaze remains fixed on her through every motion, and this whole roommate thing just got much more difficult.
Life would be a lot easier if she wasn’t so goddamn attractive. Olive-toned skin. Plump lips. Sleek black hair. Hips I’d like to—
…
Hips I’d like to do nothing with because I do not want to fuck Lucia Torres.
I think my dick might, though.
Scratch that—my dick definitely does. That’s clear by the way it’s tenting my fucking shorts.
But does that mean I’m going to?
Nope.
There’s no chance I’ll end up in Lucia’s bed.
With the way my blood doesn’t seem to want to leave my traitorous appendage, I decide to cut my workout short.
I need a cold shower.
A really cold shower.
So that’s what I do. I suffer through a shower almost as cold as the ice baths the trainers have us use. And it works.
Temporarily.
As soon as it goes down, my mind decides to fuck with me by replaying Lucia as she did her squats. And my dick springs right back up.
Fucking hell.
I desperately need a release.
I turn the shower off, grab a towel, and then stalk into my bedroom. Once I’m dried off, I decide to just get it over with.
I lay down on my bed and fish through my nightstand drawer for a bottle of lube. When I find it, I pour out a generous amount and toss the bottle beside me.
My dick is still standing straight up, so I take my hand and spread the lube around. Once I’m properly lubricated, I wrap my hand around myself and get to work.
I pump repeatedly, moving faster with each stroke. While I do, my mind wanders, imagining things I don’t want.
Things like Lucia in my bed, mouth wrapped around my cock as she swallows me down. The woman is unashamed and seems like she loves sex almost as much as I do—I bet she gives great head.
Not that I have any desire to find out.
Just like I don’t need to find out how she’d feel on top of me, riding my cock, and seeking out only her pleasure. Her tits would probably look incredible as she bounced on me.
But I’ll never know.
I bet her ass would look good, too, as she’s bent over in front of me, letting me fuck her from behind. I could wrap that long hair around my wrist and pull. She’d probably like it rough.
Shame I don’t like her.
The sinful fantasies do me in, and I groan as I coat my stomach and abs in my cum.
At least it worked.
My dick finally isn’t hard anymore.
But that’s only because I just jacked off while thinking about Lucia fucking Torres.
And I don’t know what the fuck that means right now.