Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 23
Dirk and I exchange looks after I realize he’s doing what I’m doing. Staring at the hall, waiting for one of the girls to realize Jude is here. Waiting to see if there’s gonna be a scene.
“What’s good, boys?” Jude asks, throwing back a mouthful of whisky.
“Uh,” Dirk says, “Why don’t you tell us? There’s a girl with pink hair in the other room that you’ve driven to drink, it seems.”
“Just a little game of cat ‘n mouse,” he says with a shrug. “And good. Maybe alcohol will make things interesting later.” He rubs his palms together.
I laugh.
Adele comes from the master bedroom, gets to the mouth of the hall, gasps, and turns and shuts the pocket doors.
“Oh shit,” Dirk says. “My wife’s about to rat the cat out.”
I settle in and wait to see what’s about to happen.
***
It takes five minutes before Ally comes out, blue eyes blazing.
“Leave,” she demands.
“I’ll leave when you leave. Since you’re comin’ with me. In more ways than one.”
She points at the door with lasers shooting from her eyeballs. The anger is so real I want to duck for cover in case it makes the whole room catch on fire.
“A bet is a bet, sweet cheeks,” Jude informs.
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”
“Believe it. You bet, you lost, and now you owe.”
“Owe what?” Carly asks.
“Peaches,” Aiden says, shaking his head, giving her a ‘stay out of it’ look.
“Don’t play if you’re not prepared to pay,” Jude advises.
“You’re really gonna make me do this.”
“Not only am I going to make you do it, you’re gonna like it.” He wiggles his brows. “We both are.”
She slumps. “Fine. But I hate you more today than I hated you yesterday.”
“And probably not half as much as you’ll hate me tomorrow. Let’s go.” He downs the rest of his drink and winks at Aiden, who smirks.
“Wait. No. I don’t like this,” Carly says and gets in front of Jude.
“It’s fine, Car,” Ally says, straightening.
“What’s goin’ on here?” I mutter to Dirk.
“Not a clue, but it’s like a soap opera and I can’t tear my eyes away.” He sips his drink. “Make some popcorn, Aid.”
“This guy tricked me into making a sex bet and now I have to pay up. Because he’s a snake.”
“Tricked you? Is that word now a synonym for won? Poor victim,” Jude laughs at her, folding his arms across his chest.
Ally points her nose into the air as she grabs the doorknob.
“You’re not gonna make her have sex because she lost a bet,” Adele stares at Jude with disgust.
“Of course I am,” he rises. “A bet is a bet. Ask her if she’d have made me pay if I’d won.”
Ally glares at him. “Of course I would.”
“What did you bet?” Carly asks.
“If I won, he’d fuck off and leave me alone.”
Aiden scoffs.
“I’m ready,” Jude says and pulls the door open wide.
Ally leaves. Jude follows and shuts the door.
“What the fuck?” Adele gasps. “You guys, do something.
“She wants it,” Aiden says.
Carly glares at Aiden but says nothing.
“You know it, Curly Sue.”
Carly huffs. “What she wants and what’s right for her might not be the same thing. She’s trying to do what’s right for her by asking him to let her off the hook.”
“No, baby, she’s playin’ cat and mouse with a cat who will not play unless he knows he can’t lose. And she knows that. She wants him to catch her. She’s just makin’ the chase as interesting as possible.”
“Something about sticking two good-lookin’ people in the same apartment, huh?” Dirk muses.
I laugh.
Dirk adds, “I should open a side business. Roommate Match dot com. Big Brother style. Stick two people together, manufacture some conflict, and then start a betting pool and see how long before they have sex.”
29
Jada
I get a text alert at three o’clock in the morning. I hear another ding before I get a chance to look at my screen.
Austin: Are you sleeping?
Austin: Sorry if you are. If you read this tomorrow, hi.
Is he drunk?
Me: Is everything ok?
Austin: hi.
Austin: What are you wearing?
I blink in surprise. I sit up and turn the light on.
He has to be drunk.
Me: Would it be creepy if I said I was wearing one of your shirts?
Austin: That would be the popular opposite of creepy.
Austin: *polar.
Austin: Did I wake you up?
Me: I’m awake. Definitely awake now.
I first typed out Would it be creepy if I was sleeping in your bed and wearing your shirt? But I backspaced it out before sending, thinking – too much too soon.
Austin: That’s hot. Wearing my shirt. Didn’t know it’d be hot till I read about it in your story and it was even hotter when I saw it on you Friday.
He thought that was hot?
Me: I’m not actually wearing your shirt but now I know at least one thing you think is hot and I shall be tempted to wear your clothes every chance I get. Btw, you paid me too much on my pay.
Austin: You didn’t expense everything you were supposed to, so I took a guess. Don’t do that again.
Me: What are you talking about?
Damn. My fault that things are no longer sexy because I brought up that my pay was too much. I hadn’t even thought about it Friday, so caught up in the shock of what happened when I came back with the avocadoes and then thinking about Austin and his father being rushed to the hospital.
Austin: You took a cab to me and back with my lunch. That wasn’t on the expense report. You also had $46 in household supplies. I know you spent more than that. Don’t be a martyr.
Me: I told you the food was on me the first week.
Austin: Or I’ll spank you. Sexy martyrs get spankings.
Austin: I was not ok with that.
Austin: The food. Not ok with the food.
Austin: sexy spankings, btw.
Me: So you just guessed on what I spent? I didn’t spend that much. You overpaid me.
Austin: Well, next time be accurate. Accuracy on your expense reports are very important. I’m a numbers guy. I don’t like wrong numbers.
Me: Okay, Mr. Groucho Numbers Guy. I shall ensure I am most accurate with my expenses going forward, but this worked in my favor.
Austin: Good Girl. And my company is paying your salary and for my expenses so it’s no sweat. Seriously, Miss Sweetheart.
Me: This got way too serious for three in the morning. I thought this was a sexting booty call.
Austin: Numbers are my thing. Believe me, this is a conversation I’m finding highly arousing.
I laugh.
Me: nerd.
Austin: Ya well you’ve got the cooties.
Me: Maybe you’ve got my cooties now. And you’re pretty hot for a numbers nerd.
Austin: Maybe I’d like some more of them, too. Cooties, that is. And numbers.
Me: Are you drunk?
Austin: Very.
Me: What did you do tonight?
Austin: I had dinner with Aiden, Carly, Adele, and Dirk. And there was some drama with Carly’s friend and our buddy and that was fun to watch. I’m pretty sure everyone of them is getting lucky tonight. Except me.
Me: I’m not getting lucky either, so I can relate.
My phone rings. Austin calling.
My heart is racing.
I answer it.
“Hi,” I say. My voice is scratchy. I clear my throat.
“Hey,” he returns. “Did I wake you up when I texted you?”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. I don’t have to be up early.”
“No, you don’t, I guess.”
“Your father’s doing okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “He’s recovering from surgery. He has a brand-new girlfriend after many years of celibate misery, so I’m happy for him. He had a heart attack while having sex in the supply room at the office. Got caught, too.”
“Oh my Lord!”
He chuckles. “Yeah. At least he’s okay. And my understanding, he recently ended a decade of what he figured was impotence. Guess it works right after all. Just wouldn’t work for my mother. I probably shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Probably not…” I laugh.
“But if you’re gonna go, sounds like a good way to go.”
“Holy! I’m glad he’s okay.”
“He is. Hopefully he smartens up with his workaholic ways. This isn’t his first heart attack. Dad is only 55. This is a bad sign.”
“Yikes,” I say.
“Yeah. Prostate cancer diagnosis six months ago, now this.”
“Scary stuff.”
“For sure,” Austin says. “They caught the cancer early. But he keeps getting warning signs with the heart. Puts things in perspective.”
“Does it?” I ask.
He’s quiet a minute. He’s gotten very serious.
“Austin?”
“What’s the story with your family, Jada?”
“It’s kind of a long one.”
“You too tired to talk?” he asks.
“No, I like talking to you.”
“I like talking to you,” he returns.
I smile and then bite my lip.
“I like doing other things with you, too,” he adds.
“Like bantering?” I ask.
“That’s a nice alternative word for arguing.”
“I mean, it was arguing before. Now it could be more like banter, since there’s no longer animosity. At least I don’t think there is.”
“This is true.”
He says he’s drunk, but he sounds happy, playful. I like it.
My father gets mean when he drinks anything alcoholic besides beer. We gave him a wide berth when we saw a liquor bottle come out. A special occasion rarely ended without him getting ugly and confrontational with somebody and that was because of mixing alcohols or just maybe because of the whisky.
“So, you’re wearing my shirt?” he asks.
“No,” I say.
“Pretend,” he whispers.
“I can do better than that,” I suggest. “I can go get one and put it on.”
“Yeah?” Austin says. “Do that.”
“Just a second.”
“Wait. Take the phone with you.”
“Okay.”
“Put me on speaker before you do it. I want to give you some instructions and I want you doing it in there.”
Oh. Oh Wow. Maybe this is a sexting booty call. Austin Groucho the Third style.
“Okay. One sec.”
I dash down the hall to his room.
“Ow!” I groan.
“What’s wrong?”
“Stubbed my toe in the hallway. A little eager,” I say, laughing.
“I like that,” Austin says. “I mean, I like the eager part, not the hurt part. If I were there, I’d kiss it better.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask.
“Mm hm. I wanted to kiss your ankle that night with the soup.”
“You did?”
“I did. Are you naked yet?”
“Naked? No?”
“You in the master bedroom?”
“Yep.” I flick the light on. It’s too bright so I dash over and turn on the lamp on the nightstand and then flick the big light off.
“Well, now the master has some instructions for you,” he advises.
I’m about to be a smartass and reply that technically Aiden is the master of this bedroom, but that could backfire and a backfire might mean I don’t get to find out what’s about to happen. So instead, I say, “What are your instructions, then, master?”
He chuckles low. I hear a rattling sound. Ice cubes?
He smacks his lips and lets out a gust of breath like he’s just had something to drink.
“Wait. What are you wearing? What are you doing? I want a visual, too.”
“I’m sitting in my bedroom beside the window,” he says. “Looking out at the yard. Palm trees. Pool.”
“What are you wearing?” I ask.
“Just a pair of jeans. Socks, too, I guess.”
“Are you having a drink?”
“Yeah. Scotch on the rocks.”
“I can see it. I am liking what I’m seeing. But lose the socks.”
“Sure.” He pauses. “Done. Now, put the phone on speaker, Miss Sweetheart. Get naked. Slowly. And tell me what you’re doing as you do it.”
I blow out a gust of air as my heart speeds up.
And I try to think fast, try to think about how to make this sexy for him.
“I’m hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my pink trackpants,” I say.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Mm hm,” I reply. “And I’m shimmying them down my hips.”
“Keep going. Let them fall to the rug.”
“They’re on the rug, Austin,” I whisper.
“Step out of them.”
“Okay.”
“What’s left?” he asks.
“My tank top and my panties.”
“What color are they?”
“My tank top is black.”
“You wearing a bra under it?”
“No.”
“Mm.” I hear the ice cubes tinkling again and then I hear him breathing. He’s taken another sip. And suddenly I’m parched. But I’m not about to pause this sexy conversation to go get a bottle of water.
“What about your panties? Are you wearing your plain cotton good girl panties?” he asks.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m wearing a purple thong.”
A gentle laugh comes through. A husky one. A sexy one.
“Are you bullshitting me, Miss Sweetheart?”
“Nope. I wouldn’t dare,” I say.
“Why are you wearing a thong?” he asks, and his tone has changed. It’s got a bit of an edge to it.
“It’s just what I put on when I got dressed after my bath tonight.”
“Why? Were you feeling sexy?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Take your tank top off. Slowly.”
I follow his directions.
“Jada?” he calls out just as I drop the tank top.
“Yeah?”
Somebody’s sounding a little less patient now.
“Are you standing by the bed now in nothing but a red thong?”
“I am,” I say. “Except it’s purple.”
He chuckles. “I was testing you. Get into the bed,” he orders.
His voice is commanding. It’s sexy.
I sit down and scoot up beside the phone which is lying on the grey comforter.
“Lay back,” he says.
“Okay,” I reply.
“Take your panties off,” he tells me. “And leave them under the pillow.”
I giggle.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay,” I say. “But you better hope your brother and his wife don’t decide to show up for a surprise visit before you’re back.”
There’s silence, then, “No jokes right now, Miss Sweetheart. This is a serious matter.”
“My apologies, Mister Groucho.”
He snickers.
“The third,” I add.
“So… now you’re there in bed, naked, then,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper.
My nipples are hard. And I’m feeling all kinds of naughty right now.
“I want you to touch yourself, Jada. Cup your breasts.”
I blink twice, feeling my face heat.
“Are you doing it?” he asks.
“Uh…” I start.
“Don’t be shy. Do it, baby,” he urges.
And at that endearment, I melt.
While melting, I cup my boobs, slowly emptying my lungs of breath.
“Are you… are you gonna touch yourself, Austin?” I ask, and not without difficulty.
“I am touching myself,” he informs. “I’ve got my cock in my hand right now. I took it out as soon as you told me about your pink trackpants.”
The visual has my eyes widening.
My right hand slides down between my legs.
“You cupping your breasts?” he asks.
My hand slides back up. “Yes.”
“Are you a good girl or a naughty one, Jada?”
“I… I’m a good girl.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna do what I tell you to do?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That pleases me, sweetheart. I want you to slide your right hand slowly down to your pussy.”
I do it, but I keep my eyes closed.
“Part your legs. Give yourself plenty of access.”
I do.
“Rub your clit.”
Oh wow. This is serious now.
“I wish you were here to do it,” I whisper, touching myself.
“I do, too, Jada. Envision that it’s me doing it and I’ll envision it’s you fisting my cock right now.”
I’m super wet and very tingly. I feel so exposed here on the bed he sleeps in. I’m alone and naked, touching myself with his voice directing me, the light on.
If someone had told me I’d be able to do this, I’d tell them they’re crazy. I’d blush at just the notion. I felt like a ridiculous perv for sniffing his shirts before putting them in the washing machine, but here I am, rubbing myself at his command as his voice comes out of my phone after three o’clock in the morning in a bed that would smell like him if I hadn’t just changed the sheets. Damn me for that.
“Mm,” he groans and the fact he’s getting into touching himself is a huge turn-on.
“When I get back, do you know what I wanna do to you?” he asks, voice so deep and husky, it feels like a warm breeze across my sensitive nipples.
I pinch my left one a little and this, coupled with my fingers between my legs, has me arching my back slightly in response.
“No. What?”
“You’ll see,” he warns, and my body breaks out in more goosebumps.
“Wish I could see you right now, naked, touching your sweet little pussy,” he says, sounding breathless. He sounds like he’s running up some stairs while he talks. This must mean he’s close, that he’s working his gorgeous and hard cock fast and hard.
