Eleven
Teagan
Sleeping for six hours last night, two hours longer than planned, really messed up my schedule. I didn’t wake up until 8:00 a.m., which left me no time for studying before work. I hate starting my day already behind. But it’s a sex day. I’m always in a better mood on a sex day.
I pick up my phone and scroll through my messages to find the last one he sent.
Me: Can we do 8:30 tonight?
Heath: Sounds good
The anticipation makes me want it even more. Warmth spreads through me and settles hot in my panties. I ache so bad to have him inside me I have to shift the way I’m sitting. I need to focus on something else. It’s only 8:12.
Study time with Ryan has been hot and cold. The wedding is distracting—I get it—but unlike his attention span, deadlines don’t move around like chipmunks on coke. I scour through my textbook for the millionth time. There’s a case I’ve been trying to remember, one that aligns perfectly with what Ryan was getting at this afternoon, but I can’t seem to figure it out. I’m not one to forget, but I have a lot on my mind right now.
“You’re so boring,” Levi grumbles, bringing me out of my head and back into my apartment.
“You are too,” I say back.
Levi sits next to me on the sofa, resting his head on the back while he switches through Netflix previews. He has made himself comfortable under the throw blanket Jeremy bought to cover the red wine stain he left on the beige cushion. Levi’s hair is half down, the top in his typical bun, the rest falling onto the top of his shoulders in a cascade of shiny, black tendrils. Most days I wish I had his stupid, perfect hair. But not on a sex day. I don’t want anything but dick on a sex day.
It’s 7:15 now. Levi leaves at 7:30 for practice and I need Jeremy out by 8:15 or there’s a risk he’ll run into Heath on his walk over. Jeremy locked himself in his room an hour ago and hasn’t come out. I’m surprised he’s home at all as he usually spends every weeknight at Chet’s.
I don’t necessarily want him home all the time. Sharing a six-hundred-square-foot apartment is cozy, to say the least. It’s nice to have the place to myself, especially when I have my scheduled self-care time with Heath’s penis. To be honest, I miss Jeremy when he only comes home on the weekends to eat, sleep, and leave a mess for me to clean up after. Less on that last one, though.
But it’s fine. It’s a sex day. I never feel lonely on a sex day.
Finally, Jeremy’s door swings open. He walks out carrying a cardboard box, not looking my way even though our living room only has enough space for our sofa, coffee table, and my sunny disposition. “Hey, Levi,” he says.
“Hey, Jer.”
“What’s in the box?” I ask just to be acknowledged.
“My business, nosy ass,” he says without missing a beat.
“Got it.” I appreciate his brashness, his everyone and their mother can catch these hands kind of attitude—until I’m on the receiving end. But it doesn’t bother me today. Little bothers me on a sex day.
“If you must know, it’s shoes,” he says. “I’m trading some with Chet so we have enough for all the parties coming up.” It must be nice to be the same size as your significant other. The joy of doubling your closet for free. “Ryan is doing too much. I just recovered from all of Brett’s wedding shit last summer, and now Ryan is being just as extra. Just assuming we’d pay for last-minute, peak-time accommodations in Ibiza? Why can’t any of our friends be normal and get married somewhere other than an island on the opposite side of the world?”
“All valid questions.” He’s venting, and he’s not saying anything I haven’t thought at some point in the last three months, but it’s a frustrating reminder all the same. The timid knock on the door lifts my mood.
Jeremy opens the door for Chet and they exchange a quiet greeting and kiss.
“Hi, Chet,” I say.
“Hi, Teagan! Oh, little brother is here too? Hi. You two are the cutest siblings.” His warm smile brightens the dark cloud of Jeremy’s mood. He comes over and leans down to give me a hug; his big arm is as hot and damp as the apartment. He must have walked. Maybe it’s the heat making Jeremy extra pissy.
“Let’s go,” Jeremy says.
“Oh, okay.” Chet rejoins Jeremy at the door. In and out, just like that. “Bye, Teagan! Bye, Levi!”
“Bye, Chet. Bye, Jere—” The door closes before I can finish his name. Oh well. It’s 7:20.
“He is so tired of you,” Levi says, snickering to himself.
“He loves me, he just loves Chet more.” Even if we didn’t have another nine months left on our lease, Jeremy does whatever Jeremy wants whenever Jeremy feels like it. To be fair, I would also prefer to stay in a shiny new high-rise apartment with central air if I had the chance.
“Are you going to move in?” I ask.
“With you?” he asks.
“Yeah. When Jeremy leaves me for Chet.”
“Never.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re boring.”
I lift my gaze to give him a look, but the TV has his attention. “If I’m so bad, why do you come here before practice?”
“Convenience.”
“Mm-hmm.” He has murderball practice a few times a month in Brooklyn. Even with traffic, it’s not much shorter of a drive from here than it is from our parents’ house, so I know it’s an excuse to see me. It’s Hargrove nature to hide our fondness for each other beneath a layer of criticism.
“You’re really going to sit there and study the whole time I’m here?” he hassles me again. “You can’t do that after I leave?”
I can’t because I’ll be doing Heath after he leaves. “I’m always busy, you know that.” I avoid his question. “Summer-mester sucks, but it’s less I have to do later. I want to graduate and pass the bar as soon as possible so Mom and Dad will get off my back.”
Levi laughs. “Yeah, because they’re totally going to let go of the marrying Lenny thing.”
I close my eyes with a sigh. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
My phone beeps from the coffee table. I don’t need to look to know it’s my reminder for my dick appointment. At least I know it’s 7:30.
I shut my book and set it beside me. “You need to get to practice.”
Levi’s brow stitches with confusion. He looks at his watch and says, “It’s exactly 7:30. You have a problem.”
~
Heath is late because of course he is. My panties are already wet with anticipation. I thought about buzzing one out before he got here but knew it wouldn’t be as good. Out of all the men I have been with, Heath is the only one who can beat a toy—and in the rare moment he can’t, he’s more than happy to collaborate with it. Remembering that makes me hornier.
I pick up my phone and huff when I see it’s 8:50. The second I pull up his number to call him, there’s a knock at the door. I drop my phone on the couch and sprint over.
It’s barely open before I scold him. “You’re late.”
Heath gives me a look of contempt. “And the Browns haven’t won a Super Bowl. Any other keen observations?”
He’s such an asshole, but damn it, he’s pretty. His gray eyes look darkened by his annoyance. His black work polo hangs untucked from matching pants, leaving him halfway between medical professional and catalog model. It reminds me I could have had him naked by now.
“Would it kill you to be on time for shit?”
“Leave me alone.” He takes a step inside. “Something came up. I’m a few minutes late. Get over it.”
“Be here when you say you’ll be here, and I will.”
“Teagan!” He slams the door closed and pushes me back against it. His hand grips my chin, keeping my face in place while he looks me in the eyes. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He steps closer to press his body against mine, making me tingle from head to toe. His expression is gentle yet insistent. “Please.”
Something about that “please” really does it for me. I bite my lip to keep from moaning Okay .
His hand tilts up my chin and his mouth finds my neck. He sucks my sensitive skin while his hands lower to my chest. The surprise mixed with his fervor makes my body warm with desire. His fingers tickle under the sides of my shirt, then rip it up, exposing me. Warm lips circle my nipple, hands tear at my fly. I moan before I can stop myself.
It all happens so fast. I can barely focus beneath the heat washing over me. He seems to feel the same. It’s as if he was as impatient as I had been feeling. He matches my energy, reads me so easily, and hating that he can do that only makes it hotter.
He rips my pants down to my thighs, then turns me around, pushing my chest against the door this time. I can’t see him, but I feel him crouch down. A second later, his tongue is against me.
My body shivers with excitement. His tongue teases me, his hand massages my ass, his hum of pleasure vibrates against me when he finds my wet center. I lean my forehead against the door between my palms, giving in to his aggression. Every touch feels better than the last.
When his mouth leaves me I can’t stop a whine from escaping, but the sound of a condom opening keeps me high. Only a few seconds of pause leave me cold before I feel him at my entrance. A gasp is my response.
He slides in easily and immediately gets to work. His hips pump against my ass while he strokes hard against my front wall. The position keeps him shallow enough to fuck up my G-spot like it’s his job.
The moan that leaves me is louder than intended, but completely warranted.
“You want to keep talking shit?” He dares me.
“You’re . . . ah! Fuck.”
“That’s right.” He pulls my hips back, crashing them against his with every hard thrust.
I want to cry it feels so good. I smack my palm against the door instead of letting out the stream of curse words he makes me want to moan. We’re either pissing off the neighbors or giving them quite a show.
“I fucking hate it when you’re late.” Over and over, he hits the perfect spot. Fucking hell.
“Yeah, I know.” He smacks a hand hard against my ass. “Do you hate me too?”
“Yes,” I whimper, unsure if it is an answer to his question or a response to the feeling he’s drowning me in.
“Do you hate this?” A hand slides between my legs. His fingers circle against my clit and my legs shiver. I don’t hate that at all.
He knows I’m close. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He always does. “No,” I admit against my better judgment.
“That’s what I thought.”
The pleasure settles in my head and rids me of all other thoughts. All the anticipation and frustration build inside me, blindingly hot, threatening to burst. Then— “Oh god!”
The orgasm hits me hard. My body sings while I clench around him over and over. I shake like an earthquake while I struggle to stay on my feet. He pushes deep and stills. Only when my moans taper off do I hear him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, only an inch from my ear. His hips shudder while he eases himself in and out, making me clench around him each time. The feeling seems to flow through us in the same way. I look back at him, watching his eyes rise to mine, feeling the intensity of his gaze in my core.
With one last moan, he slips from me. His hands leave, taking my warmth and stability with them.
Out of breath, I turn to face him, steadying myself by leaning back against the door. He looks me up and down, his cocky smirk curling his lips when he sees what he has done to me.
The condom goes into the trash. We pull up our pants. I can’t form words.
“Want to complain about me being late again?”
I leer at him, fighting the smile I feel on the inside, and swallow to rid the desire from my voice. “Just leave earlier than you think you should. It’s not that hard.”
With a shake of his head, he steps closer and slowly zips his fly. His eyes trace over my body, that smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips. I can’t decide if he wants to laugh at me or take me again.
To my surprise, he leans in close, his lips hovering just a breath from mine. I stare at them while I wet my own.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers. Leaning away, he pulls at the door. I move so he can open it. “My place, right?”
I nod. He slips through the door, leaving me alone.
With a sigh, the rest of my strength leaves me. I slide down the door to sit on the floor. My head is still spinning, my body still buzzing. I can still feel him inside me.
What the hell got into him?