18. Lucia
eighteen
Lucia
Ari surprises me more and more every day.
I never told him my coffee order, but he knew it anyway, only because he paid attention to the scent.
I dated Matt for more than a year, and I can’t think of one time he grabbed me a coffee without asking what I wanted because he could never remember.
Ari and I aren’t even friends, and he knows. The man I’ve kept my distance from for two years knows me better than my ex-boyfriend.
Things would be so different between us now if I’d just listened to him back then.
Maybe we’d actually be friends.
I know now that he told me about Matt because he didn’t want to see me hurt. It wasn’t anything more than that, which is what I was afraid of at the time.
It’s clear now that Ari cares deeply for the people around him, and he was willing to include me in that from the beginning.
Now, I’m not sure he’d ever want to be close to me since I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him since we met. Why would he?
If we can’t be friends, we can at least be friendly.
I’m happy enough with the thought of that.
I sink back against the plush cushions of the sofa, enjoying the last of my peppermint mocha as I watch more reruns of Modern Family. This has been my comfort show for at least a decade.
I hear footsteps behind me and find Ari sullenly trudging his way to the living room, eventually flopping himself on the other end of the sofa and staring blankly at the screen.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Peachy,” he says flatly, and I can tell he’s trying to pretend everything is fine.
It’s a feeling I recognize since I’ve mastered the art myself.
“I can tell it isn’t, Ari,” I say lightly, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. “You can talk if you want.”
He stares at the TV for a few more moments before sighing. “Just got off the phone with my dad, that’s all.”
This is exactly how he acted the last time he talked to him, too.
“Why do you still answer his calls?” I ask honestly. “I can see how upset he makes you.”
Ari mulls it over. “I don’t really know. It’s better to just answer when he calls, though, rather than get my ass chewed out the next time we talk for not answering before.”
God, his dad sounds like a nightmare.
“I’m sorry he gives you such a hard time.”
He smiles softly. “Thanks, Luc.”
I decide now that I should take his mind off this. He was so happy after talking to his mom, and I want him to feel that again.
“Ari Morgan, I have a very important question for you.”
He looks at me, confused and curious. “Okay…”
“Andy or Dylan?”
Ari’s head falls back as he laughs, and I can feel some of the tension slip off his shoulders. “Dylan. Always Dylan.”
“What?!” I shout. “Haley was so much better with Andy!”
“You’re so wrong,” he jabs, still smiling. “The whole point of Modern Family is that Haley is exactly like Claire. Dylan is just her Phil.”
“But Andy was so good for her!” I exclaim, and I can’t believe we’re arguing over who this fictional character should’ve ended up with.
Ari cocks his eyebrow. “And Dylan wasn’t? He may have been, to put it bluntly, an idiot, but it was always clear how much he loved her. He grew a lot through the series and worked hard. He was perfect for Haley.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I cannot believe you picked Dylan over Andy.”
“How about this then?” he asks, his smile growing wider as he forgets about his talk with his dad. “Arvin or Bill?”
“Bill. Hands down, Bill.”
“Right answer,” he chuckles.
“Him breaking up with Alex was so stupid. And Arvin just sucked.”
“He did, didn’t he?”
We carry on our conversation, keeping it light and surface-level. We don’t delve deeper into his relationship with his dad because I can see he doesn’t want to do that.
Not with me, at least.
But I did manage to get his mind off of it.
I’m considering that a win.
After a light evening workout, I clean myself off in the shower, ready to call it an early night. I slip into my favorite yellow silk pajama tank and shorts—I always get hot when I sleep—dry my hair, and then tie it off into a braid so I won’t have to style it tomorrow.
When I walk back into my room, though, I’m startled by a thud next door in Ari’s room, followed by a muffled, “Fuck…”
Instead of getting into bed, I walk into the hallway, listening closely. When I hear Ari groan, I forgo knocking and just walk into his room, thinking maybe he’s hurt.
And boy, was I wrong because the sight in front of me was not at all what I was expecting.
Instead of finding Ari on the floor in pain, I see him on his bed, eyes closed and furiously stroking his dick.
I must make some noise as I stand there slack-jawed because his eyes fly open before he shouts, “What the hell are you doing in here, Lucia?”
“I thought you were hurt!” I reply quickly. “I heard a thud, and then I heard you groan.”
Ari keeps a tight grip on his shaft, holding himself but not stroking while we talk. “I knocked the bottle of lube off my bed.”
“I thought you might need help or something,” I say softly, a little weirded out by the situation.
Ari pinches his brow with his free hand. “Clearly, I don’t.”
“Right,” I mutter, ready to hightail it out of here when I catch something under his hand. Something that looks like black lace, and it clicks into place. “Are those my panties?!”
I thought he might deny it, but he owns up to it instead. “Yes,” he chuckles.
“You told me you couldn’t find them!” I state emphatically, closing his door and marching over to his bedside.
Because that’s a great idea since he still hasn’t let go of his dick.
“I lied,” he smirks, the slightest bit of pink tinging his cheeks. “Put them in my back pocket after I slipped them down your legs.”
“Why?” I ask, sitting down by Ari’s feet.
He looks at me curiously, probably wondering why I’m still here, but shrugs it off. “Not really sure.”
“And you pulled them out tonight to jack off into?”
Ari’s blush deepens. “Used them the other night, too.”
Instead of freaking me out, the thought actually turns me on. He might not hook up with the same woman twice, but he’s thinking about me enough to use my thong to get himself off.
It’s a confidence booster if anything.
I’m practically salivating as I look at him now, tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip. He follows the movement, and then he takes a deep breath as he stares at me.
“Show me,” I demand.
“Show you what?”
“Show me what you do. Show me how you use my panties to make yourself come.”
Ari’s grin is deadly, and I feel it throb in my core. “You wanna watch me jack off, Spitfire?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I want to watch you come while you tell yourself you don’t want me again.”
“I don’t,” he states, and his tone isn’t at all convincing.
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” I smirk, inching myself closer to him. “Show me anyway.”
With how heavy Ari is breathing right now, I can tell this is turning him on. He likes me coming in here and telling him what to do.
“Then watch me, sweetheart.”
With my panties wrapped around his cock, he begins moving them up and down his length with every stroke. I see the silver ball bearings on each piercing before his hand passes over them, and I can’t help but remember how they felt inside me.
I have to clench my legs together at the memory.
I just showered, but I’m still going to need a clean pair of underwear when we’re through here since I’ve all but soaked through the ones I’m currently wearing.
Ari moans as he starts stroking himself faster.
“Do you like me watching you, Casanova? You like me watching you stroke that pretty cock?”
“You think my cock is pretty?”
“Well, it does have jewelry,” I state, lust seeping from my voice. “And jewelry is very pretty.”
“Fuck, Luc,” he groans, swiping his thumb over his head and gathering up the precum he’s leaking.
“You’re doing such a good job, Ari.” He moans, and at that moment, I learn my fuckboy of a roommate has a praise kink. “You like hearing how well you’re doing, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he breathes. “Don’t stop.”
As if there’s a chance I could stop when I have him in the palm of my hand.
“You look so good right now, baby. Getting yourself off with my panties and getting praised for doing it. You’re such a good boy for me.”
“Oh fuck…” he cries, moving his hand faster, and I can tell he’s close to his release.
“You gonna come for me, Ari? You gonna let me watch you paint your hand and stomach with your cum?”
“Yes, fuck. Yes,” he says, moaning one final time before tipping over the edge, calling out my name as he coats himself with his release.
I take my finger and drag it through his cum, gathering some on the tip of my finger. “Such a good boy, Ari.” I suck my finger into my mouth, tasting him on my tongue. “Mmm.”
“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly, still trying to steady himself after his orgasm.
“You owe me a new pair of panties,” I state as I stand myself up. “I’m not using those ones again.”
Ari’s head falls back as he laughs. “Deal.” He looks at me now, his eyes heating up as they rake over me. “You just watched me. You gonna let me watch you?”
I smirk before turning on my heel. “Nope. Good night, Ari.”
He doesn’t reply as I stride out of his room and back into mine.
What just happened was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.
But the fact that we’re roommates complicates things.
Because I think I want Ari again, and I think he wants me again, too.
Fuck.