Chapter 37
S ince our return from Portland, we’ve spent most of our time together, locked in my apartment. We didn’t spend the entire time fucking, though. She wanted to explore my past accomplishments on my hidden computer, and I got to use that time to catch up on the week we spent away. From what I understand, she also had fun poking around Iris’ code.
There also were a few hours she spent in her apartment, getting her duffel bag and spending some time with her roommate. Watching Andrea bring back her stuff to my place and put it in her drawers was a unique and thrilling experience. We’re both excited about the milestone, and while she doesn’t know it yet, I fully intend on having her living with me by her birthday, four months away.
I can’t get enough of her, and probably never will. That’s why I’m here, nervously knocking at her door after ditching Kev and Shelly’s New Year’s party. It was alright, but I found myself missing my freckled dork. Chatter, music, and laughs come through the panel, and I worry that crashing the party will ruin the mood. Andrea insisted I came, though, confident things would be alright even though most of the guests work for me.
The door opens, revealing Oliver. His expression barely flickers before settling into something neutral, almost too neutral. “Oh, hey. Andy told us you might be dropping by.” A pause, just long enough to make me wonder what else she told them. “You’re right on time. We’re starting a new game, and we’re missing a player for a team.”
He waves me in and disappears down the hall before I can get a read on him. Things haven’t gotten back to how they used to be between us, and I’m not sure they ever will. In a way, I stole the best woman in the world from him. I take my time removing my coat, finding a place for it on the overcrowded rack. The voices in the living room are lively, unbothered, but there’s an edge in my chest I can’t quite shake. With the bottle of Dom Perignon in hand, I walk toward the noise, toward whatever is waiting for me in there.
I immediately spot Andrea by the high counter of the kitchen, talking with Brian and Mason. As if she has a radar, she looks up and sees me walk into the packed space. She’s with me before I have time to take in everything, grinning wide. “You’re here so early, baby!”
“Yes, Kev and Shelly’s party was a little dull, so I thought I’d check out yours.”
“I thought you liked dull parties.”
“I do, but dull parties don’t have an Andrea in them.”
She giggles and shakes her head. “We spent nearly two days locked in your apartment, Coleman. You really are that whipped, aren’t you?”
“I never denied it.”
Another delighted giggle that I muffle with a kiss. Taking my hand, she pulls me further into the room. “Just so you’re warned, though, we’re noisy, vulgar, and playing dumb games.”
“I’m always willing to try new things, freckles.”
She offers me a smile and turns back to the room’s occupants. “If I could have everyone’s attention,” she calls out, effectively conjuring everyone’s eyes to us. “For those who don’t know him, this is Alexander. He’s, uh, our boss at Kelex and my… boyfriend.”
A few people greet me, and even I can tell this is as awkward for them as it is for me. “I promise he’s a lot of fun at night,” Andrea adds in an attempt to ease the tension. When she realizes the innuendo, her eyes widen. “I meant he’s fun out of work hours!”
No one speaks for a moment, her words lingering in the air. After a sip through his straw, Mason breaks the silence by asking, “Do we get to have individual demonstrations?”
Giggles rise from his fit of humor, lightening the mood.
“Mason, you couldn’t handle me even if you tried,” I respond.
After a moment of slight shock, genuine laughs rise as Mason fans himself with his hand. Just like that, the room relaxes, and the chatter returns. The ones I know come to greet me, Brian gets a cold beer in my hand, and I’m told to sit on the couch for the game that’s about to start.
When Andrea returns with a massive wooden bowl of tortilla chips and guacamole in the middle, there’s no room left. “Does anyone care if my boyfriend and I display some affection in my own home?” she asks her colleagues. Her question gets a few nos and head shakes, so she comes to me and sits on my lap, which I gladly welcome, resting a hand on her hip. “Karen can’t come after us for this, right?” she wonders .
“No, I think we’re good.”
There’s a whiteboard in front of us, and Brian, who’s on our team with Andrea and Mason, starts. We easily guess a turtle, but what follows is a mystery. Andrea and Mason keep shouting what they think it might be, and it’s entirely chaotic.
“A painting!”
“A portrait!”
“Painting a turtle!”
“A turtle painting a portrait!”
“A turtle’s portrait!”
Exasperated, Brian rolls his eyes and shows the artist he drew. “Oh! A painter!” Andrea shouts.
He nods, waiting for us to make the connection. “An artistic turtle?” Mason ventures.
“Is it a turtle with a painter’s name?” I ask, suspecting I know where this is going.
Brian energetically nods with his thumbs up, and Mason also figures it out. “Bro, why aren’t you drawing a ninja if this is about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?!”
Realizing his mistake, Brian grimaces. Andrea and Mason start shouting artists’ names at him until he approves Michelangelo, less than a second before the last of the sand falls through the small plastic hourglass. It’s the next team’s turn, and because I don’t really care, I allow myself to zone out until it’s our turn again. Mason is the one drawing this time. It goes much better, and Andrea is the one who guesses. When it’s my turn to draw for the last round, I reluctantly approach the board.
To no one’s surprise, my attempt at drawing Godzilla leads us nowhere, and our time ends before I can adjust my potato-shaped dinosaur. “I’m sorry,” I say with a wince. “I’m a human calculator, not an artist.”
“Are you, really?” someone wonders.
“More or less, yes.”
“What’s sixty-seven times eighty-three divided by thirty-five?”
“A hundred and fifty-eight point eighty-eight. Do you want the rest of the decimals?”
“Okay, new game,” Mason claims, clapping his hands together. “We make him guess equations, and if he fails, he drinks.”
I probably should say no, but everyone seems to love that idea. I turn to Andrea, wondering what I should do. It seems she likes the idea because she smiles and nods before getting up.
“Alright, I’ll need a pen and a notepad, and I’d rather tequila over other liquors,” I decide .
Mason and Brian immediately rush to find what I asked for, and the others make room on the table. In a way, I’m used to unique reactions or treatments because of my brain, but this is a new one. I fetch my glasses in my coat and return to the couch, amused to see that everyone’s focus is on me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I take it out, still waiting for the pad and pen. When I see it’s from Andrea, I seek her, finding her by the kitchen. Something in her smile lets me know what to expect from her text.
Andrea Walker
I’m staying away because complex math on top of the dark suit, glasses, and turtleneck? I’ll act up if I’m too close. But know that your dick is getting sucked dry tonight.
I chuckle at the text and type,
Me
Are you purposefully trying to mess with my focus, Miss Walker?
Andrea Walker
If it helps, I’ll do it even if you perform poorly (which would be a first).
It takes twelve tries for them to make me drink my first shot of tequila. And that’s only because I keep asking them to make it harder. The hourglass has been repurposed for this, so I have a minute to calculate whatever they give me. Two people are in charge of ensuring I’m right, doing the math on their phones while I do it mentally. I counter the third shot, though, so they redo the math and realize they messed it up.
The thing lasts about half an hour, enough for the first few shots to make their way into my blood—especially since I haven’t eaten much tonight.
Andrea’s the one who comes to my rescue. “Alright, everyone, the show’s over. Unhand my genius,” she demands.
After some protest, they dissipate, migrating toward the food. She motions to sit next to me, but I like having her on my lap, so I pull her back onto me with a firm hand. I don’t care if there’s room on the couch now. This is where she belongs.
“I missed you,” I mumble, nose grazing the smooth slope of her neck.
“Baby, how many shots did you drink?”
“Like, seven. I’m really good at math.”
“That’s still a lot. Let me get you a glass of water before it really kicks in. ”
She tries to get up, but I don’t let her. “It takes more for me to be drunk.”
“Still, you’ll thank me in the morning. Let me go, Lex.”
“Never. I’m never letting you go.”
I must have sounded more serious than I meant to because she frames my face with her hands and gravely promises, “I’m never leaving you, baby. I’m just getting you water and a plate of mac and cheese.”
After a couple of seconds of hesitation, I agree with a nod. She gives me a small kiss and gets up, depriving my lap of her perfect ass.
By the time I’m done eating and drinking what she gives me, we’re minutes away from the new year. Tamika turns the TV on, and everyone gathers around it, excited about what’s about to happen.
When the countdown begins, Andrea looks ecstatic, smiling wider with each number, and I decide this is what I’m celebrating. Her, and this next year we’ll spend together.
Everyone’s still screaming, “Zero!” when she grabs my face and plasters her lips on mine. “Happy New Year, baby!” she excitedly lets out before giving me another intense kiss.
“Happy New Year, freckles.” I hold her against me, ignoring the surrounding excitement. I wish there could be only her and me in this moment, but I understand why she wants to share it with her friends. Still, I suggest, “Should we go into your room to start the year with a bang?”
She snorts, thinking I’m joking, and then realizes how much I mean it. “Lex, no. We’re not having sex with twenty people right here—most of whom we both work with, in case you forgot.”
Right… Well, we’ll head to my place soon, and I’ll let her suck me dry, as she promised. Then I’ll give her something worth celebrating.
W ith my fingers tightly clutching Lex’s short and dark strands, I endure with delight the ministrations of his gifted mouth, arching and writhing on his bed. He teases and taunts, ever so tender, his tongue giving just enough to keep me on the verge of orgasming but not quite.
“Baby, please,” I whimper, lifting my hips onto his mouth.
He lifts his gorgeous head to stare at me, his gray irises darkened by want and lust. “You had me wait until we were in my bed, Andrea. Now I’m in charge, alright?”
Although he frames it like a question, there’s no doubt that this is an order. All I can do is nod, reduced to compliance by his assertive tone. His small, satisfied smirk echoes in my chest and pussy, and I watch as he returns to eating me out, his deft tongue bringing delight and torture in equal amounts.
I want to plead, to beg, to implore, but he demanded control, so I let him have it. But when he accidentally pushes me too far, not retreating early enough, I finally come apart, trembling and moaning his name. Realizing his mistake, he makes the most of it and accompanies me through my mind-shattering climax.
Because of all the edging, it’s so intense that I see stars, my back arching off the mattress. My insides clench around emptiness, my clit throbs under his merciless tongue, and my hips jolt from ravaging tremors of pleasure.
He’s given me dozens of incredible orgasms by now, but it always feels new. I’m forever surprised by how good it is, as if I keep forgetting and rediscovering it.
When the shivering of my body fades, so do the intense sweeps of his tongue on my overly sensitive clit. He kisses his way up my spent, heaving body, and I can feel the unmistakable smile on his lips every time they graze my skin.
Once he’s over me, his lengthy girth settled against my dripping core, he takes a moment to gaze down at my face, as if trying to absorb every little detail of my overheated features. The hectic beating of my heart has nothing to do with pleasure anymore but everything to do with the surge of emotions his loving gaze triggers.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he utters, face adorably flushed, eyes glimmering with lust. My chest hurts from the immense feelings swelling in my heart.
I nod. “I do because I love you just as much, baby. I can feel it all the time, right here,” I explain, running my fingers over my left ribs. “And sometimes, like now, it’s so intense it hurts.”
His hand comes to cover the space, as if he could help appease what he’s doing to me. “You’re the only person on this entire planet who could ever mean this much to me. Andrea, my feral raccoon, my love, my adorable dork… out of eight billion people, it could only be you.”
I can’t answer or return his incredible words, as if struck by lightning. I’m tongue-tied, rendered speechless by my inability to form proper sentences. What is he doing to me? How does he keep doing that?
Couples that marry within a year of meeting each other have never made sense to me. I always thought those marriages were doomed because how can you, in so little time, know that this is the person you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with?
But here I am, a little over four months into a relationship, ready to do literally anything for a man. If he asks me to get married before the night ends, I might say yes. Actually, I’d absolutely say yes. When you know, you know, right?
And I really fucking know.
I’m so ready for it when he leans in to kiss me, and while I can’t form words, I can respond this way. I hold him tightly, clutching my arms around him as hard as I can, trying to convey the depth of my feelings with actions. He reaches between us and, without teasing me, without saying anything else, pushes himself into my willing flesh.
A moan travels between us, and I can’t tell if it came from him or me. Probably both. Matching the tenderness he decided on for our first embrace of the year, his hips roll languidly and smoothly. He makes love to me with shattering intensity, whispering praises and promises of eternal love. His tender moves are as eloquent as his words, and his devotion feels as potent as the mattress under me. It might as well be set in the hardest of stones.
Whenever he isn’t murmuring the sweetest of declarations to me, he’s either losing himself in my devoted gaze or kissing my demanding lips. We lose track of time, our bodies melding together like a singular mass of muscles, bones, and nerves. We’re one—more than we’ve ever been before.
Our duality will forever amaze me. This man making sweet, sweet love to me is the same one who called me a whore and came in my ass a few days ago. I can barely reconcile the many versions of him, and I love it. There’s the dominant lover who pulls my hair and drives me mad with a masterful balance of praise and degradation. And there’s the submissive one who lets me be in charge even though he has the physical upper hand. Then there’s this perfectly loving, deliciously greedy man who treats me like I’m humanity’s greatest wonder.
That’s why I know I’ll never be bored of him. It’s like having every man wrapped in one. And he’s all mine.
Despite the slow pace of his relentless hips, I shatter in his arms a few times, my orgasms coming and fading, as intense and sweet as the moment. Eventually, it’s his turn to come, emptying himself deep inside of me, his guttural moans echoing in the otherwise silent room.
He stays over me, still planted in my warmth, and we kiss for minutes that seem to stretch into infinity. With my weakened limbs wrapped around him, I hold him close, keep him right there, until he’s swollen and hard within me again.
Because it’s impossible to tame our feelings and desires, we start all over, getting lost once more in this sweet and poignant moment. As Lex demanded, he’s in charge. Not even once do I consider taking control. Whatever this moment is, I can tell he needs it. It’s like he’s expressing his deepest needs, his most intimate craving, and I let it wreck me, physically and emotionally.
When his strong arms grow sore, he rolls us around and takes me with him. I take over, following his hands’ gentle nudging and silent instructions. With a tenderness that matches his, I make love to him, marveling at his perfection. I return those sweet praises he whispered to me, expressing how much I love him, his mind, his body, his face…
His eyes make me feel like a goddess worthy of worship, and I almost wish it were true. If we were deities, this would be our entire purpose, our whole existence. Two lovers, endlessly embracing, caught in an infinite display of adoration, drawing from the bottomless well of their love for one another. We’d have our own constellation, forever drawn into the stars and immortalized for billions of years in this state of blissful euphoria.
With the slow-paced rolling of my hips, I bring us both to climax again. I cry out his name as he groans mine, our bodies shattering one last time together. His hands grip my hips tightly, pressing me hard onto him so his release splashes right onto the end of me.
Again, it’s worrying how much I’m willing to give this man in only a few months of knowing him. But I find myself wishing I didn’t have an IUD so that his seed could take root in me. The miracle of life has never been more alluring. But I’m growing obsessed with the thought of a small creature that would be the perfect mix of us, with gray eyes, freckles, hair black like his and curly like mine…
One day, I remind myself. But not right now. I want more sleepless nights like this before we have to deal with sleepless nights of breastfeeding and changing diapers.
Spent, panting, and aching, I topple over him, softly rising with each of his deep breaths. Tired isn’t even the word for it. I’m on the verge of passing out, drained by all this tender lovemaking.
“Fuck, you were right… Starting the year with slex is the best thing ever.”
“Slex?” he wonders.
Oh, shit. Did I really just… ?!
“I meant sex,” I lie.
He studies me, eyes narrowed, and shakes his head. “See, I’d believe you if you weren’t blushing.”
“Of course I’m blushing. We just had sex for two hours straight.”
His hand comes to my jaw, holding me firmly as he utters, “Don’t lie to me, Andrea. Ever.”
Trapped by his iron hold and intense gaze, I give up with a whimper. “Slex means… sex with Lex. ”
His proud smirk is almost luminous, his dashing face as tempting as ever. “You needed a whole new word for it?”
“Yes. Sex was too… mundane. Now, will you let me pass out in peace, please?”
Still grinning, he brings me in for a kiss and then releases my jaw. “Sleep, freckles. Then in the morning, you’ll get more slex with me.”
“Slex is, by definition, always with you,” I stubbornly mumble, already half asleep.
After a moment, he reveals, “I also have a word for when I have sex with you.”
“Really?”
“I call it making love.”
His cheesiness brings a faint giggle out of me. “What do you call it when we fuck hard?”
“Well, I’m in love with you even when I’m fucking you hard, so it still applies.” Still amused, I give his solid chest a kiss and wriggle closer.
Without even realizing it, I drift into slumber, his dick still in me, covering him like a human blanket as his familiar hands cup my ass. I vaguely hear his “I love you, freckles,” but I’m unsure if the answer I mumble is understandable.
He probably got the idea, though.
T he smell of food is what wakes me up. I slept like a log, not even sensing when Lex switched us around and pulled the duvet from under me to cover us with it.
Opening an eye as I lie on my stomach, I see movement. Even though I quickly close it again, Lex must have detected I’m awake because he says, “There she is…”
He definitely doesn’t sound like someone who drank too much, but still, I ask, “How’s your head?”
“You tell me.”
I smile, loving his tongue for the wit as much as for the cunnilingus. “It’s fucking fantastic.”
“Damn right, it is. Come on, freckles. I made pancakes.”
Okay, this I have to see. Poorly holding back a yawn, I roll onto my back and force myself to sit up. The covers fall to my lap, but I don’t care. Lex has seen my boobs far too often for me to do something about it .
There’s a tray on the empty side of the bed, and I look with keen interest at everything he prepared. Greek yogurt, apples, pancakes… All my favorites. It’s clear he made the latter himself, and I find their irregular shapes adorable. They’re also a little too flat, but it only adds to the weight of his efforts. “Ugh, this is so perfect. I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I know. There’s been all sorts of noises coming out of your stomach since I woke up.”
I chuckle, failing at not being embarrassed by something so natural. “Well, it’s not my fault if someone tricked me into having a slexathon yesterday.”
“ Slexathon… I didn’t know there were variants. Is slexting another one?”
“If you keep using the word slex, I’ll report to Karen and for bullying.”
“I didn’t know you were a snitch.”
“Watch your tongue, Coleman, or I’ll put it to good use.”
I pick up a pancake, roll it, and bring it to my mouth. Though the messed up shapes are acceptable, the salty taste that spreads through my mouth as I chew on it isn’t. But he looks so goddamn adorable, waiting for my approval, that all I can do is nod with a smile. I’m not crushing his feelings when he tried so hard.
“I know you like them fluffy, so I added more baking powder. It didn’t really work, though,” he explains, looking at the pancakes with animosity.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I’ll give you a lesson in fluffy pancakes next time I make some.”
Bringing his failed experiment to my mouth, I take another bite, deciding this is a small price to pay for him to feel validated. Which he deserves to be. I look around the room as I chew, seeking a distraction from the taste. The scan reminds me of something that’s been on my mind since I read it in the Iris binder.
“I was wondering… I saw you mentioned a security system in the binder. And cameras. How many of those are in the apartment, and where?”
An uncontrollable smile stretches his lips as he realizes why I’m asking. “There are cameras everywhere, even in the bedroom.” He turns around and points at a small, discreet circle in a corner. “See? But they only record if Iris detects an intruder.”
“So, we never made an accidental sex tape?”
“No. But she listens at all times, though, to be able to answer commands.”
“That’s… a little embarrassing.”
“She isn’t real. She doesn’t care. ”
I shoot him a displeased frown. “Talk better about my girl Iris. She’s very real.”
“She isn’t an actual human, is what I meant.”
“Shh, you’ll hurt her feelings.”
“She doesn’t have fee—”
“Iris, your dad is being mean!” I shout.
“Really? Dad, why are you being mean?”
His surprise at the AI answer is so hilarious, I struggle to hide my smile. “What did you do to her?!” he demands.
“Made a few adjustments. You like it?”
“Andrea, I will rescind your access if this is what you do with it.”
“Iris, did you hear that? Your dad wants to separate us.”
“Please, Dad, don’t. I love having a stepmom.”
“That’s it, you’re out,” he decides, half-amused, half-impressed.
“No, please!” I beg. “I promise I’ll behave.”
“When have you ever behaved?”
“A lot of times. Just not with you.”
After a dubious pout, he takes a sip of his coffee. Then, he picks up a pancake, curious to try it. Immediately after biting into it, he grimaces.
“This is disgusting,” he protests. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“It’s pancakes, Andrea. Don’t give yourself food poisoning to preserve my ego.”
“Alright, sorry. Nevertheless, I want you to know how greatly appreciated your attempt is,” I say, clasping his nape to bring him closer.
We exchange a salty kiss, and he then pulls away and decides. “I’ll make up for it tomorrow on our way to work, alright? I’ll treat you to a nice breakfast somewhere.”
Although I love my job, the idea of having to return to it makes me groan. “I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be a strong and independent woman who has to work five days a week anymore.”
He smiles broadly as he asks, “Then what do you want to be?”
“A trophy girlfriend, then to get promoted to trophy fiancée, and finally, a trophy wife.”
His chuckle tells me how ridiculous he finds my idea. “You’d be bored after a week. Plus, I’m not losing my best software engineer.”
“Is that all I am to you?” I ask, poorly pretending to be offended.
“Yes. I only seduced you to make sure you wouldn’t quit,” he replies with one of his charming grins.
Ugh, we’re so getting in trouble with Karen at some point… How am I expected not to jump his bones once we’re back at Kelex?