Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 20
Did I just do that? Did I just touch myself in front of a guy?
He notices and then his fingers are there, too. I pull my hand back so he can take over, but then he grabs my hand and sucks two of my fingers while rocking into my face. God, this is more erotic than the most erotic scene I’ve dreamt up.
I can’t get over this.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I have no idea what it means, either; I only know it feels completely awesome.
“Can I come in your mouth?” he demands, pace quickening where it’s no longer me bobbing, but him thrusting.
“No, I shouldn’t,” he rethinks.
I nod and take a firmer hold of his butt and hold on tight.
I nod some more.
He groans out as he quickens his pace again and then after just four or five more thrusts, he comes down my throat.
I choke a little and his eyes immediately go concerned.
I recover. He flops beside me, then jumps up and lifts me up in the air, making me squeal in surprise. I quickly realize he’s doing it to get the blankets down.
He puts us back in the bed and pulls the covers over us.
“Fuck,” he breathes into my neck, pulling me close. “Fuck, that was a nice surprise.”
I nod, snuggling in.
“Though not exactly safe…”
“Huh?”
“Me, coming in your mouth…”
“I haven’t been with anyone,” I remind him, but his lips are on mine again and now he’s holding my jaw as he kisses me.
He kisses me long and deep and it feels like my heart is going to explode out of my chest into a poof of glitter and butterflies.
“Fuck,” he says again. “That was nice.”
I giggle. “You said that.”
“I had no idea what I was comin’ home to,” he says. “I guess I’m in shock, now thinking on all of it.”
I cover my face, embarrassed.
“I’m very fucking glad I found that smut file, Cooties.”
I bark out a laugh. “Don’t you dare call me that!”
He laughs. “Okay, Squatter.”
“Groucho!” I add.
He laughs louder. “Master Groucho the third, thank you very much. And I’m not usually so grouchy. I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” I joke.
He chuckles. “Fair point. And what’s with the third thing? Who are Austin Groucho first and second? That’s what I’d like to fuckin’ know.”
“No clue. Adding The Third to your name made you sound even more pompous and snooty.”
He slaps my butt and I giggle.
“Sassy thing,” he says.
“I’m not usually so sassy.”
“Hm. Not sure I believe that.”
“Hm,” I return. “Fair point.”
He bites his lip and caresses my head, tucking loose hair behind my ear.
“You made me enchiladas,” he whispers as if he supremely approves.
I nod.
“I don’t like guac.”
“Have you tried my guac?” I ask.
“No. But despite that I don’t eat it, gotta tell you, Cooties, I’m now a very big fan of guac,” Austin informs.
I giggle. “Stop calling me Cooties.”
“Though I might never ever eat it.”
I laugh again.
“You should try my guac.”
“Maybe I will. You eat yet?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“You thought you had at least two hours to scarf down your meal and hide in your room before I got back.”
I nod.
“You’ve done a good job of avoiding me all week,” he says.
“It’s part of my job description. Just trying to exceed expectations.” I bat my eyelashes.
“Well stop that. I don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t have to just stay in your room. I was a dick about that.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“You don’t have to agree with me.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I do.” I smile wide. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
“How about you be a good girl for a little while and do what you’re told?”
“What am I gonna be told?”
He goes to his closet and pulls out a shirt, then tosses it at me. “To put this on,” he says.
I smile.
In my Austin Smut story, I wear his clothes after we have sex.
“And then come with me so we can go eat.”
“I think I can be a good girl for a little while…”
He smiles.
And then it hits me. I don’t know if he read the whole thing that I wrote. Did he?
Things turned from sex and punishment to relationship stuff from chapter four and by around chapter six there’s just as much romance as there is sex.
“How much of that did you read?” I ask.
He pulls on a pair of trackpants, smiling.
And I’m feeling panicky.
“How much?” I push.
“I was somewhere in the third chapter when you got in.”
I’m relieved.
It must show by what he says next.
“Did something happen in the later chapters I should know about? Do you kill me? Am I married? Do we wind up having a threesome with me and you and my wife?”
My face falls.
His does too. Instantly. Like he regrets what he’s just said.
“I’m not married, Jada,” he says, lifting his hands.
I force a smile. “I think I know that. Be right out, okay?”
“Okay.”
I slip into his bathroom.
“Wait. Hey! That’s my bathroom,” he calls.
“Consider it an advance on the very extensive penalty for snooping on my laptop!” I shout back.
He laughs loud.
And that’s a great sound to hear from him.
24
Austin
It started out as a weird day, knowing that Sienna was being arrested for what she did to me.
I messaged my brother to tell him it was about to happen and he replied with,
Ah, to be a fly on the wall.
I didn’t wanna see it. I was still too angry about what that bitch did to me. I didn’t want to derive any sick joy out of watching her suffer, I just wanted her to pay for what she did.
Nobody, male or female, should get away with doing what she did.
And then it was a weird day, trying to focus. Coming back here and finding that stuff on Jada’s computer? Talk about a shock to my system.
What happened when she walked in was totally not premeditated, more like it felt like the most natural thing in the world to me. It was like everything clicked into place when I put my hands on her. When I felt how she responded to me. When that look in her eyes, of fear and embarrassment transformed to lust and longing.
I almost backed off in the bedroom when she said she’d only been with one other guy. That almost sent me running, because that sort of thing is a big deal to me and the kind of thing that would make me drop all my walls and decide I’m all in – but after some of the shit that’s happened to me with the past few girls I’ve gotten involved with, I’m trying to be more practical now, more pragmatic instead of letting myself get lost quickly.
I’m trying not to read too much into it because frankly, I have no idea if this thing with her is going anywhere. It’s too soon to know, too out of left field.
Well, if I’m honest, I’ve been pushing back my emotions for two weeks where she’s concerned and likely pushing her back with my attitude. Or I thought that was what I was doing, but it had a vastly different effect than I intended.
I can’t help but dig that she’s this quiet, shy girl that found her voice to stand up with me. That she revealed that to me felt special.
I fucking dig it even more that she looks like this sweet, wholesome good girl and underneath it, she writes scenes about me getting her off against a burnt piece of toast.
That depraved shit gave me a hard-on.
Is this gonna go anywhere? Do I want it to?
Not a clue.
Not a clue at all.
All I know is she feels good. I love how she looks at me. I love that we’ve been able to blow off steam by snapping at each other and it’s led to this explosive sexual chemistry between us.
And instead of her jumping my bones like she couldn’t wait, she got shy, timid, and submissive with me. Her reaction to me today was exactly what I would’ve hoped for if I’d laid this out.
My phone is ringing as I head into the kitchen.
My brother. I’ll call him back later.
Aiden gives away too much about his sex life. I’m not like that. But he told me once that he dug when a girl he fucked wore one of his shirts afterwards and for some reason, the idea of Jada wearing something of mine – something too big on her – it turns me on.
As soon as the phone stops ringing, it immediately starts again. My mother. I snicker. I haven’t talked to her. She’s probably calling to ream me out because I had her boyfriend’s daughter arrested. Aiden was probably calling to warn me she was about to call.
She can stew a little longer; I’ve got enchiladas to eat.
I pop mine in the microwave and dish some up for Jada, who’s coming into the kitchen. Her hair is now down, tucked behind a headband, which makes me want to pound my chest like a primate because I messed her hair up so much that she’s now taming it with something that makes her look so shy and innocent. It makes me wanna take her to the floor and fuck her. She’s biting her lip while approaching me, wearing nothing but a white shirt of mine, just like in her story. And she’s looking at me in a way that I know my wants are written all over my face.
I grab her and plant a kiss on her mouth. She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me back, whimpering into my mouth. I fucking like this. I like it a lot.
“Next time you clean that bathroom, you’re gonna need supervision,” I say.
She looks up at me and her eyebrows knit for a split second and then heat stains her cheeks and she laughs and buries her face in my chest.
“No bathtub cleaning during the day.” I bop her nose.
“You get to the window cleaning scene yet?” she asks, face buried into my chest.
“No.”
“Good. I’m deleting it.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I’m putting a password on my computer. I really should’ve done that a long time ago.”
I give her a serious look. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”
She smiles. “Maybe I am, too. Which is crazy.”
My hand rides up the back of the shirt and I feel something lacy.
I look down and lift the shirt above her navel.
She’s now got on high-cut black lace panties with royal blue ribbon woven through the edge of the legs as well as the waistband.
I smooth my hands over her ass and pull her closer.
“These aren’t good girl panties,” I observe. “These are naughty girl panties.”
She bites her lip and her lashes lower just a little. It’s sexy as fuck.
“After we eat,” I whisper in her ear, “I’m goin’ to the store and buying condoms.”
The microwave beeps so I pull my food out and slide her plate in.
She goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer for me, a root beer for herself.
My phone rings again. Aiden again.
I grab it and turn the ringer down.
“Definitely should delete all that smut on here,” she muses, sliding her laptop to the side as we dig into our food.
“You do that, you’re in big trouble, Cooties. Though I do recommend you password-protect it.” I take a big bite of my beef enchilada. It’s delicious. “But I want the password.” I wink.
“You do know I never expected a soul to read that, don’t you? Only one person in the world even knew I write that stuff.”
“You write a lot of it?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nope. A couple months ago I got paid to write one from this freelance site I get writing jobs from sometimes. I almost didn’t do it. But it felt safe since I was anonymous and it was fun. And then I got paid to write another. And I decided to write some more, so I did. Then I met you…”
“Yeah? And?”
“And the night we had the argument when I made you the fajitas, I went to bed angry and was going to tell you off in a letter that I would never have sent, but I found myself writing that. Please, you can’t tell anyone I write that stuff.”
Her eyes are so panicked and she looks so mortified that I instantly move to her and pull her close.
“You’re damn good at writing sexy scenes, Jada. Even the stuff around the sex scenes, the inner dialogue from Miss Sweetheart that I read so far; you’ve got talent there. If you decide to become a fiction author, you should own that. Be proud of it whether you write sexy stuff or murder mysteries; who cares what people think? That’s my opinion. Though, if you choose to keep it to yourself, that’s your choice. I just have one request.”
“To change your name if I ever publish it?”
I shake my head and smile at her. “To let me read them, especially if they’re about me.”
She turns away and buries her face in her shoulder. It’s adorable to me and incredibly alluring how she’s being both shy and open with me at the same time.
“If you never write them for money or for public consumption, I still hope you let me read them. And… right now, I have plans to act out every scene you wrote. I think.”
“Oh yeah?” she inquires.
“Oh yeah,” I confirm. “Every scene I read so far at least. Maybe some adlibbing to give you some ideas for later chapters.”
“I look forward to that,” she says.
“It’ll be like sexy improv. Like, maybe in addition to burnt toast, we’ll go all nine and a half weeks style on the kitchen floor and I’ll pull out some roast beef and horseradish sauce or something.”
“Ooh. I mean ouch. Wouldn’t horseradish burn your asshole?”
My phone vibrates. Adele calling.
I laugh. “Not mine. Yours.”
“Nope. Chapter thirteen was about me putting spicy condiments up your bum. If we follow script we’ll have to stay with the program.”
Fuck, she cracks me up.
“Layin’ down the law? I think that’s my job, Miss Sweetheart.”
She laughs. “Maybe we’ll adlib instead.”
25
Jada
Austin and I eat enchiladas together and he tries my homemade guacamole. He wrinkles his nose and tells me not to feel bad that it’s not his thing, says it’s a texture thing.
I shrug that off, not remotely offended, because Austin waxes lyrical while he eats three enchiladas. He goes on about almost everything I’ve cooked for him, almost as if he’s saved all the compliments he had because we weren’t exactly communicating. But we are now, and I feel not one shred of upset that he doesn’t like guacamole.
“And though I’m not a fan of avocadoes, I tell ya, sweetheart, I will forever look at them differently after today.”
I smile.
“You one of those girls afraid to eat around a guy?”
“Huh? No. Why?”
“You keep leaving full plates of food around me. Eat some food.”
“Maybe you ruin my appetite,” I give him a disgusted look and his smile goes so bright it’s a thing of beauty.
He likes that banter.
“Yeah, good, because who wants to sit here and watch you eat, anyway?”
“Watch the line, Master Groucho. You cross it and maybe you’ll wear some enchiladas.”
He laughs.
“Maybe you’ll wear them too,” he threatens.
“Maybe I’ll refuse to make them for you again,” I add.
“Whoa. Let’s not be hasty!” He throws his hands up in surrender.
I giggle.
“You okay, though?” he asks, leaning over and tugging on a lock of my hair.
I’ve got too many butterflies in my belly to have an appetite.
“I’m good. Just ate a late lunch,” I say and rise.
And then something cool happens. Austin and I clean up the kitchen together.
I never saw my parents do this. Dad was in his chair while Mom did it, looking like she was in a daydream – probably wishing she was someplace else. And then I did it while Dad was in his chair when Mom was gone, wishing I were somewhere else.
Here, cleaning up with Austin, I’m feeling like I could stay here and happily do this with him every night until forever. And that’s exciting and scary at the exact same time.
After we’re done, he asks, “Wanna come for a walk? Keep me company as I walk some of this food off and find a place to buy some condoms?”
“Sure. But what do you need condoms for?”
He looks at his feet and tries to hide a smile. “Maybe it’s just a good idea to have them on hand. Never know when you’re gonna need to bend somebody over and give them a penalty-fuck for streaky floors. Got any plans to wash the floors any time soon? I could be wrong, but it looks like there’s a spot over there.” He jerks his chin.
“I cleaned the floors today. Too bad you missed it.”
“Damn.” He snaps his fingers. “I figure it’s a good idea to be prepared, anyway. Shall we?”
