22. Elias
TWENTY-TWO
Elias
We haven’t slept in separate beds all week, again, somehow.
Somehow.
Somehow, I tell myself, as if I don’t tuck her side of the sheet under the mattress before we fall asleep in whatever bed we happen to be in, knowing that she likes her feet covered, and I need my feet free.
It’s not something we ever discuss. Like, you probably shouldn’t sleep over with a newly minted friends-with-benefits friend every single night of the week. Maybe for a lifelong-sex-friends situation, but that’s not what this is. We were very clear about that.
You probably shouldn’t have an entire separate album on your phone of every nude and video you have of her. You probably shouldn’t be looking at it all the time.
You probably shouldn’t commute to work together, either. Or eat every dinner together. Or hang out every night. But we’ve always done that. Mostly.
You also probably shouldn’t know how she takes her coffee. Or that she folds her pizza in half and will eat the crust of a sandwich first. Or that she has exactly seventeen moles on her back and her sides, and one birthmark on her chest. Or that she makes the perfect bite of food to save for last. Actually sets it aside on her plate.
You definitely shouldn’t know the age at which your newly minted friend-with-benefits got her first period. Or how she was missing her top two middle teeth for, like, a really long time. Or what she looked like with her headgear. Or how she got that scar on her lip. And her knee. Or how you and her older brother saved her from drowning when she was sixteen, pulling her out of a lake after a particularly raucous round of water skiing.
You probably shouldn’t basically be family.
So, we never discuss it.
And it’s actually pretty great, getting to do all these things with someone you know on the deepest level possible. Someone you trust, and someone who has your back and takes you seriously and thinks you’re awesome and that your side hustle is legit.
You probably shouldn’t enjoy the sight of her blonde hair all over your pillow and in your mouth in the mornings, but here we are.
“Morning, beautiful,” she tells me on Saturday, with morning voice and morning breath.
I kiss her anyway. “Morning, Gorgeous.”
She snuggles into my chest, both of us on our sides, and I wish I could unzip my body and keep her inside like an absolute psychopath. I think what truly makes it psychopathic though, is that this is not the first time I’ve had this thought.
“What should we do today?” she asks, her mouth moving against my chest hair.
I shift her up so we’re face to face, lifting her leg and wrapping it around my waist. Rubbing my very hard dick up and down through her center, spreading her lips around me, getting her and the underside of my dick nice and wet. “This,” I say into her mouth.
At some point in the last few days, we’ve dropped the guise of ‘practice’. That’s not what this is anymore.
She sighs when I start circling her nipple with my thumb, tweaking the nub back and forth. “Obviously. But what should we do after that?” she asks me, after her hot little tongue explores the inside of my mouth and she starts grinding down on her own, pressing her clit to the sensitive spot just under the head of my cock.
I groan. “It’s Saturday,” I tell her, angling her hips and holding myself at the base so that I can push inside her wet warmth. It never gets old, the way she stretches around me, the way she feels around my bare dick, the little sigh she lets out when I first inch in. “We can do this all day, if we want to,” I say, moving back and forth, coating myself, working my way up and up and all the way in. “Give me your eyes, Gorgeous,” I remind her, when they close after I’m fully seated.
They pop open, and I love seeing them this close. My dick pulses inside her.
She starts rolling her hips then, a slow, lazy grind. “We should be productive today,” she tells me.
“I think this is extremely productive,” I reply, resuming my nipple worship, lifting one just a little so that I can work my tongue around it.
She moves her hand down between us, pulling the hood of her clit up, exposing it so that it can better rub against my skin. She grinds a little harder. “Didn’t you say you wanted to do something for your gym? Advertising or marketing or whatever? Social media?”
I decide to help her out a little, thrusting with each roll of her hips. “Hmm… yeah. I could use some help with that.”
“I also talked to my friend. She recommended an accounting software,” Mia says before rolling us, pushing me flat on my back so she can be on top. She resumes her slow grind while I occupy both my hands with her tits, loving the way she looks on top of me in the light of the morning, the way the sun hits her skin. “She said it’s not that expensive. Let’s look into that, too.”
“Okay,” I tell her, but not entirely sure what I’m agreeing to at this point. I put two of my fingers in her mouth, pushing down on her tongue.
She sucks on them, wrapping her tongue around the same way she does when I’m in her mouth, down her throat. My dick gets impossibly harder. “We should go for a walk after that,” she pants, feeling it, bearing down a little more, faster. “Get some groceries.”
“Yes,” I hiss between my teeth, but it’s more of an exclamation rather than a response. I grip her hips now, hard enough that I know it’ll leave marks on her pale skin, wrenching her back and forth over my dick, making her fuck me.
There’s no more talk about the day’s agenda now, just a long moan from Mia and a grunt from myself with Mia’s mouth slack and her tits bouncing and nails clawing into my chest and it’s so perfect and there , right there.
I feel her tightening around me and I know she’s close because I know every inch of her body, outside and in, and thank god because I’m cooked. I need her to go first, so I do what gets her up and over every time, shoving my finger in her mouth again, getting it wet, then pressing it just slightly into the tight ring of her ass, and there, there she goes, and thank fucking god because two more thrusts up and I spill into her, and it’s an explosion and reckoning.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, pulling her down by the neck while she writhes on top of me, sucking on her tongue, swallowing her moans.
She grips my face with both hands, and we make out for what feels like hours, with my dick still inside her, and it’s a feeling more than words.
Finally, unfortunately, it ends, but she stays on top of me, knees on either side of my hips, chest to chest, and I wrap my arms around her, pressing my ear against her heartbeat, listening to it slow.
“There’s one more part of the day,” she tells me after a while, after her heart rate returns to normal, “that I didn’t want to share with you before you came.”
I laugh. “What’s that?”
“My parents leave tomorrow morning. We have to see them for dinner tonight,” she whispers.
I groan. “Ugh. Forget about round two, now,” I say, even while we both feel my dick twitch inside her.
She looks down at me, blue eyes sparkling with so much affection it looks like something new and different and uniquely mine.
“I believe in you,” she says, moving again.
“There’s so much shit here, Elias,” Mia says with a strained voice.
“I know, right?!”
“I don’t even know how you’ve gotten this far without any sort of software. How have you been keeping track of all of this?”
“That Excel spreadsheet, mostly. Keeping receipts and emails and paperwork in my office,” I say, scrubbing my face.
She scrolls through the lines and lines of rows and columns. “This is honestly a feat in itself. This is another full-time job, Elias. This is crazy. I didn’t think I could be more impressed, but here I am.” She stops scrolling after a while. “Elias.”
“What?”
“Elias.”
“What?!”
“What is this number?”
I walk over behind her. “Oh. That’s how much I take in monthly.”
She hits me. Right in the stomach. “Are you serious?!”
I scratch my head. “Yes?”
She whirls around to face me. “Elias, that’s double our teaching salary. What the fuck are you still doing teaching?”
“I told you. I always thought this was a side gig. I never really thought about it as anything more. I mean…” I twist a piece of her hair between my fingers. “You’re the only one who’s ever really taken it seriously,” I admit.
She hits me again. “That’s such fucking bullshit.”
“I mean, also health insurance is a thing. It’s nice to have free health insurance.”
I watch as she does some calculations in her head. “Even if you paid for private health insurance, you’d still be taking home more than you do teaching.”
I sigh. “Okay, I get it, Mark Cuban. I just want to make sure everything is more stable before I do anything crazy. Maybe take on more clients. Okay?”
“Fine,” she huffs.
“So what’s this software your friend recommended?”
She pulls up the web browser. “It’s for small business owners to streamline operations, she said. It takes care of everything. Accounting, finance, inventory… well, you won’t need that, but… project management, POS?—”
“Piece of shit?”
“Point of sale, ass. I guess your membership fees or whatever. Marketing, compliance, analytics. It seems pretty great.”
“Like a way to make the gym more legit,” I agree.
She frowns, though. “Your gym is already legit, Elias.” I smile. She really doesn’t know how these comments make me feel like I’m the most successful businessman on the planet. “This will just give you more time to do things. Especially if you take on more clients.”
“I do need more time,” I admit.
I sit down next to her and we look through the software together. It really does seem like it’ll make my life easier. After exploring all the different functions, we decide to split up the tasks. I grab my laptop from my room, and together, we enter shit from the Excel spreadsheet into the software. We upload forms, set up an online payment portal. She stands up periodically and gets us snacks from the kitchen. I take a few minutes to rub the knots out of her neck from bending over and looking at her laptop. It takes us all day, up until we need to leave for dinner.
“Look at all the time we have now,” I say, pulling her across my lap to straddle my waist. “Can I spend this time showing my gratitude for all your help today?”
She laughs, and something pulls at me. “I have to get ready,” she says, after a good few minutes of making out. It’s just too easy, or too hard not to.
“Does getting ready involve a shower?” I ask hopefully.
We’re late for dinner, because getting ready did indeed involve a shower.
And after she came on top of me for the third or maybe fourth time today, she looked at me, eyes sparkling with that same look, that one of affection and awe. And there’s something else there, something that’s a feeling more than a look. And I knew what it was, because I’ve been feeling it, too.