15. 15
15
I f someone were to ask, I wouldn’t know how to tell them I ended up in my neighbor’s house again. This time, in particular, her bedroom. She must have me under some kind of spell, because it doesn’t occur to me that I don’t want anything to do with her when I’m actually looking at her. There are brief moments of that reminder when I blink, but it doesn’t last long enough for me to stay away.
I was determined to not let this happen again after the last week's events. She was absolutely merciless, and didn’t give me one single night of reprieve. I’m grateful for my dad’s home cooked meals, and their quiet neighborhood, but I’m getting so sick of not being able to come home.
I was angry. I wanted to punish her, but I couldn’t come up with anything good that wouldn’t either involve another person or get me into trouble. Rejecting her was going to be the thing.
I just didn’t want to when the time came.
She seems more sure of herself today, more confident in the places she touches me. She slips my shirt off with expert smoothness, and takes her time feeling my exposed skin. It’s different from any other time I’ve had a hookup, in the way that she’s silent. She’s not complimenting how soft my skin is, or pointing out how beautiful I am.
I’m not full of myself, but there’s usually something .
She goes in for the clasp on my bra at the same time my fingers fumble with the button on her jeans, but it’s too difficult of a task with her mouth on my neck.
“Take these off,” I rasp.
“I’m busy. If you want them off so badly, you can take them off.”
“I’m fucking trying.”
Her kisses turn into more, as she leaves little bites along my collarbone.
I’m worried about her leaving a mark, but I can’t deny that it would be kind of hot if she did.
Years of lifting boxes and unloading merchandise at my job comes in handy, as I reach behind the back of her legs and lift her. She has no choice but to wrap them around me, unless she’d rather fall backwards. I take advantage of it, carrying her to the edge of the bed and leaning until she does fall.
I really like my position above her. I’ve always assumed I was a bottom, because I’m always on my feet during the day. It just made more sense to take it easy when it came to my nighttime activities. It might have been part of my ex, Olivia’s problem with me. She always called me her ‘pillow princess,’ as if it were an affectionate nickname, but her tone seemed a little snarky sometimes.
The woman beneath me lifts her hips and raises her brows, and I don’t need the reminder that I should get out of my head and back to the point.
It’s much easier to do when her mouth is down there, and mine is up here. She pulls her shirt off, smacking me in the head in the process. No apology, obviously.
I ignore it and successfully unbutton her pants, yanking them off with very little patience. She is so fucking flawless, it takes my breath away. The room is dark, and her body is only visible by the moonlight coming in from the window. It must be a full one, because I see every line of her seriously chiseled abs. She’s wearing black lace panties, and that just feels so her. I don’t even need to know her any better to get a feel for how appropriate they are for her as a person.
“Stop gawking,” she sneers.
“What would you rather I do instead?”
Her response is an eye roll, before she lifts herself up onto her elbows and gives me a look that tells me we both know exactly what I should do next.
I’m stubborn. I don’t do it.
Instead I lift her bra off in a way that’s probably not comfortable. I imagine it’s digging into her skin a bit, but it seems like neither of us are worried when I drag my tongue over her nipple.
She lets out a delicious little gasp, and I do it again with more pressure.
“You’re going to have to move that tongue elsewhere,” she whimpers.
I nip at the smooth skin on the side of her breast and she whimpers again. It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard.
“You think I’m feeling that generous? Towards you?”
“I thought you’d be easy to convince,” she admits.
I look up at her and continue my slow torture, admiring her parted lips.
“I’m not. Actually–” I bite again– “I have a lot of reasons to get up and walk away right now.”
Voicing the words causes an entire new flood of frustration. I’m mad at myself for ending up here again, but I don’t have the will to go. I so badly want to take this further, I want to touch her until she forgets her own name, so my mind continues to fight itself.
She rolls her eyes at me again.
“I’m not going to beg,” she snaps.
Her tone of voice gives one of the arguing sides enough ammunition to force me to lean back. I think I see the smallest hint of a pout on her face, but she gets it under control quickly and I wonder if I imagined it.
She might not beg, but something tells me she’d want to if she wasn’t so stubborn.
“That’s a shame. I’d love to see it.”
“Kink of yours?”
“It could be.” I’m open minded.
“Don’t waste your time with me then,” she says as she sits up.
“Okay.”
I shrug as if there’s no part of me pleading to continue. As if I don’t care what happens here at all .
“Okay,” she echoes.
I turn to locate my clothes, but then a thought occurs to me.
“Are you in a relationship?” I blurt out.
She laughs, and I get why it’s amusing. Most people would’ve asked this question before things got this far.
Another thing to beat myself up over. The list is getting long.
“What if I was? How bad would you feel?”
I pretend to think about my answer deeply, putting a hand to my chin.
“It would further prove what a selfish person you are,” I state. “For your partner’s sake, I’d hope that you’d feel bad, but I’d forgive myself. I’m just the clueless other woman here.”
“If you weren’t clueless,” she continues. “If I said that I did have a girlfriend, but then I still did this…”
She traces a finger down my jawline, before leaning into me again and pressing her lips to mine.
“You’d stop me?” she asks.
And then she kisses me again.
“Yes,” I breathe.
But I let her do it again, and again. Until we’re back to making out, and I’m hovering over her, and I can hardly breathe because we’re inhaling each other more than we’re getting air.
“You’re not stopping me,” she points out, breathlessly.
I take the moment to make my way down, kissing and caressing until my face is down by her hips.
“You don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You don’t know that.”
I question myself for a split second.
“You’re too mean to have a girlfriend.”
“What if she’s mean, too? You have no idea.”
“What’s her name?” I ask.
“None of your business.”
“Why do you want me down here so bad if you have someone else to take care of your needs?”
She hesitates once I’m so close to her entrance that my cool breath hits it. Her entire body tenses like someone who in fact , has not had someone’s face this close to their privates in a long time.
This would be a terrible time to be wrong about my assumptions.
I blow air over her again, and watch her sharp inhale.
“Can you get to the point and stop–”
One swipe of my tongue against her clit has her choking on her words.
“Tell me you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“What does it even matter?” It’s the closest to whining I’ve ever heard her. “It’s not like I’d ever give you that position.”
“Good, because I don’t want it. What I do want is to be perfectly sure that there isn’t anyone out there who’d cry their eyes out over what’s happening here,” I tell her.
Her hands curl into fists.
“Ugh! No, there isn’t anyone! Can you just–”
I don’t give her the chance to say anymore, as I resume. I don’t know what comes over me, but I feel like a rabid animal. She moans when I suck her clit into my mouth, and I want her to keep doing it. I want to hear all of the possible sounds I could pull from her, so I suck harder, I lick faster. The world begins and ends with nothing but the taste of her.
Until a wave of pure stubbornness crashes over me when her hand falls on the back of my head and she begins applying pressure. I resist, pulling my face back to press against her hand.
“Are you serious?”
“Are you serious?” I snap back.
I have no issue with being bossed around in the bedroom. I don’t mind being a little submissive, but I do mind with her . The dynamic is all wrong. I’m supposed to be punishing her, and although I clearly failed at that, it’s happening on my terms. My way.
“You’re already d–”
She stops with a gasp when I slide a finger inside her. Not caring if she wanted to finish that sentence, I lower my face again. Her body writhes and jolts underneath me, filling me with a deep satisfaction. There’s nothing quite like having this control over someone’s body.
Her breathing becomes quicker, and her hands grab at the white sheets beneath her. I pick up my pace, pressing into her faster and curling my finger in a way that I’m personally familiar with.
Part of the beauty of being with a woman is that what makes them tick is all more familiar.
With one final swipe of my tongue, she lets out a deep, rasping moan and every muscle in her body clenches. My finger keeps dragging the climax from her, until she’s actively pulling away when it becomes too much.
She puts a hand to her chest, moving up and down with her heaving breaths.
“Damn,” she whispers.
I take it as a win.
I finally get up from my position, a cocky grin on my face. I give her a few seconds to recover.
“Do you have a towel?” I ask.
She tilts her head.
“You live right next door,” she says. “Go get your own towel.”
Fuck me, I guess.
I use the back of my wrist to wipe my mouth. I’m going to need a shower anyway.
“You can let yourself out. Just turn the bottom lock before you close the door behind you.”
Um.
I shouldn’t be surprised she’s shooing me away, but it’s extra insulting that my face is literally still wet. That might be a record for how fast I’ve ever been kicked out after sex.
“Like, right this second?” She nods. “Wow. Okay. I guess I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Thanks.”
As if my words aren’t dripping with sarcasm.
I almost scoff, but stop myself. It might be a level of rude I’d never personally reach, but I have no good reason to argue to stay and hang out. I don’t expect us to have any bonding time anytime soon.
It just would have been nice to have more than fifteen seconds to calm down. Would’ve been even nicer to have some more fun with me on the receiving end.
She wants to act cold and uninterested, I’m going to be even more cold and uninterested. I won’t even wave if we pass each other on the stairs. I have to stand my ground next time. I have to find a way.
But first, I’m going to relive the experience I just had with my shower head in hand.