Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 27
I lean in again and run my nose across the ridge of her ear and inhale her again.
Her eyes meet mine. And in them, I see heat. I see want.
I’m about to find out if I’m right. Either she’ll submit to this or she’ll push me away.
37
Jada
I feel like I’m probably going to hate myself in the morning. He’s certainly not going to respect me once the sun rises. But I can’t make myself do anything but wait. Wait for Austin to make the next move.
He’s searching my face as his mouth gets closer to mine.
He must see something, something that lets him know I’m not going to say no, not going to slap his face, not going to run the other way, because the hand not holding my panties from Saturday night grabs my right hand and then tugs, pulling me into the closest bedroom. My room.
We’re in and the door clicks shut, and immediately, my face is in his hands, those underwear floating to the carpet.
“We have a problem, Miss Sweetheart,” he tells me.
I don’t respond at first, but then a slap rings across my ass. Not only does it sting, jolting me out of a trance, but it sends my pelvis against him. His bulge pokes me in the belly. Yes, pokes me. He’s hard.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, face dropping.
I stare, wondering if he’s changing his mind about this.
“What’s the problem?” I whisper.
“Condoms.”
“Condoms?”
“Forgot them,” he mutters.
“I bought some,” I say.
His expression beams suddenly. He’s looking at me with approval.
“First time I ever bought them in my life. It was an interesting experience,” I inform.
He continues smiling at me but then his expression drops.
And it feels like I’ve done something wrong.
“Where are they?” he asks.
“The bathroom. Under the sink.”
“Be right back. Don’t move.”
He’s gone what feels like a long time, and it’s not like I buried those condoms. I set the box directly inside the cupboard figuring it was the halfway point between his room and mine. The cupboard isn’t one of those overflowing vanity cupboards like I had when I had my own place with limited storage. Being the main bathroom and therefore the guest bathroom, I keep things organized and uncluttered in there.
Finally, he’s back. He’s back with the condoms, which he drops on the table beside my bed, but he’s already pulled one out because I see it land at the edge of the bed. He’s also got a roll of paper towel and a bottle of window cleaner.
I tilt my head a little.
“Streaks on the windows over there,” he says. “See them?”
The blinds are closed.
“When was the last time these windows were cleaned, Miss Sweetheart?”
“I haven’t cleaned them,” I say. “Not since… not since maybe once when I first started working for-”
“No?” he cuts me off; his voice sounds alarmed. “You haven’t cleaned them?”
I shake my head and I do it slowly as my brain works double-duty, albeit slowly, processing that this is a role-playing thing. I feel dense.
Chapter four. He hasn’t even read chapter four; or has he?
“Unacceptable, Miss Sweetheart,” he states, backing me up to the window, grabbing the cord and pulling the blinds wide. “Maybe we should have you do it now while I supervise. Make sure you do it correctly.”
This is another room with a nearly floor-to-ceiling window, a similar view to the one in his bedroom, of the park, but I don’t wanna look at it from right up against the window. It gets me woozy. I know it’s a well-built place, but the fact that nearly the whole wall is just window freaks me out. How much weight plus force can be pressed against glass before it breaks? Austin’s looking at me like he’s planning on exerting a whole lot of force with his pelvis.
There’s enough light coming in now that I’ve got a good view of him. Moonlight and lights from the city make him look almost like an ethereal being to me, his skin glowing, his eyes blazing despite the dimness. He’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.
He reaches for me and his warm, strong fingers grip my hips. I watch him do this as a swallow works down my throat and then I’m being turned by my hips to face the window. He walks us another step forward and my breasts are touching glass. “I’m gonna show you once, the correct method, and then you’re gonna clean these windows while I supervise. Supervise you cleaning them while my cock is inside you.”
I immediately spin my body as my head also spins.
“Hard limit,” I breathe.
He stares.
“The height!”
His eyes flash with regret. He drops the window cleaner and the paper towel to the rug and pulls me close pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Sorry, sweetheart. Overzealous.”
I feel relief. I just spoiled the whole thing with my panic and he took it in stride and reacted gently.
And I’m feeling a bit rattled, and if I’m honest a little ticked at myself, because holy shit – that is a really good idea. And I want to rewrite chapter four with his revisions. I wrote it with him screwing me against the window after watching me clean it. His version of screwing me while I’m cleaning it and demanding no streaks? Better. And thrilling if I’m doing it despite my fear. I mean… thrilling on paper/screen to have myself doing it despite being afraid, while feeling good, but not so thrilling here in the now.
“Can I … uh… call savesies and maybe request that scene later if I… if I feel braver?”
“Absolutely,” he whispers and squeezes me reassuringly. “You wanna try it, I promise to make it good and promise to keep you safe.”
And God, that feels good. And his instant answer makes me think this might not be a one-off. I don’t allow myself to dwell on that.
“I have a scene a little like that in the Austin Smut file. But yours is better.”
“Really?”
“Way better.”
He pulls me onto the bed and tucks my hair behind my ear.
“Thank you for not storming off,” I whisper.
“Hm?”
“After I no’d you at the window, I mean.”
“I’d have to be a pretty big dick to do something like that.”
I shrug. “I’m glad you’re not that big of a dick.”
He looks at me with disappointment in his eyes, I think. That I’d think that. And then he smiles with a bit of regret.
He’s definitely been a dick lately, but he’s already apologized for that.
He stares for a long moment, making me feel like I’m under scrutiny. Is he conflicted? Is he about to go?
“Instead of acting out another smut file scene, I think I’d really like to just fuck you, Jada.”
I nod. This is not exactly romantic, but quite hot. And I’m relieved he hasn’t changed his mind.
He tugs my hand and then we tumble onto the bed together. I’m quickly back on my elbows and then my robe is thrown aside and before I fall to my back I’m divested of my remaining clothes. I’m thinking he’s about to get down to business and roll that condom on that I see on the edge of the bed, foil package glinting in the moonlight.
Instead, he traces my nipples softly with his fingertips and watches them bunch up, then his fingers move down my ribcage to my hips and he parts my thighs. He dips his tongue in between my legs and looks up at me.
“Open wider,” he orders, gruffly.
I oblige. I’m feeling wanton. And so sensitive everywhere. My nipples are puckered so tight, my knees are wobbly, and my breathing pace is up. He thrusts two fingers inside and laps at my clit while looking in my eyes.
And I can’t take my gaze away. This feels far more intimate than what I’d define as fucking.
He works at me and works some more, half hanging off the bed. As soon as the orgasm starts flying toward me, about to smash me to smithereens, I hear the crinkle and the shuffling as he gets himself gloved, not missing a beat with his mouth, though I’ve lost his fingers.
As I begin to splinter apart, his fingers are back, thrusting into me hard, fast, and so deep. My body shudders from my toes straight up to my eyelashes and then he’s moving up, lining up.
I’m failing at holding my breath, at holding in the whimpering sounds coming up from my throat.
“Let go, Jada, let me hear how much you like this.”
My first thought is that I don’t know if I can, but our eyes meet and his are commanding and sexy, and without thinking on it further, I let go and cry out. This coincides with him entering me in one hard stroke. He’s bottomed out and I’m clawing the sheets at the fullness, beautiful fullness that I haven’t felt in so, so long.
I’m still coming, and he’s moving inside me while touching me, and then he’s caressing from my hip, up my torso, up the side of my breast, until his palm cups my jaw and his mouth touches down on mine. And then Austin takes while he gives. His tongue absolutely plunders my mouth as I continue making little whimpering sounds while being rocked deeper and deeper into the mattress.
My orgasm is waning, but slowly because of the sensation between my legs as he continues to spear me.
In a fluid motion, he flips and he’s on his back; I’m on top. His hands move to my hips, using them to move me the way he wants me to move, back and forth, up and down. His gaze is pointed at my bouncing, naked breasts. The laser focus of his gaze makes me feel attractive. He’s biting down on his bottom lip as he fucks up into me, as my body slides back and forth. I grab his face with both hands and fuse our mouths together. Austin’s right hand leaves my hip and then grabs my ass cheek as his pace quickens, as his breaths come faster.
Just when I think he’s about to come, he flips me again to my back and he’s now like a jackhammer, fucking me harder, his hips pistoning forward over and over, and over. I then whimper again because he’s skimmed his thumb down between us and some more as he strums my clit while fucking me and this is my new favorite way to get fucked, because OH MY GOD this feels good.
“Tight, wrap tight around my waist,” he orders, “Now baby, now.”
I do what I’m told and grab his back tight, feeling like he’s closer to me physically than anyone has ever been as I come again. His hand leaves my pelvis and has my hair as he holds on and drives forward for three more deep strokes, slow and very purposeful ones, before he lets out a deep and satisfied-sounding moan.
I feel goosebumps rise on his hot, smooth skin under my hands and then his body relaxes as he lets out a sigh.
My mind whirls. That was good. Not just good, the best sex I’ve ever had.
I have limited experience. Very limited. Just one man, one young and now deceased man who cared about me and treated me well, so it’s not fair to compare. But I can’t help it.
This was the most incredible physical experience of my life.
Austin kisses me and I smile at him. But then he slides backwards off the bed and strolls out of my room.
I stare at the door, which closes, and I don’t know if he’s closed it or if it’s swung shut on its own, but I stare, blinking for a minute, feeling like maybe I just made a mistake.
Maybe I just did something really stupid and let him fuck me in a way that felt to me like passionate lovemaking but that to him was just that outlet he wanted. Fucking ‘the help’ to get his frustrations out.
My heart plummets as my expression falls. I feel like I’m about to cry, but I’m too stunned to do anything but stare at my door.
And then that door opens.
Austin is back with two bottles of water. He gets into bed, passing me one then taking the cap off his. He guzzles most of it back.
I’m sort of dumbfounded, but manage to open and get a few sips of mine. I set the bottle down on the table beside me and as soon as I do, I’m moving. He pulls me closer, kissing me while fixing the blankets.
We’re lying on our sides under the blankets and my face is smushed into his chest.
A euphoric feeling washes through me before my eyes drift closed and I immediately descend into a blissful sleep.
38
Austin
I wake up with Jada in my arms. Snoring. Not loud, but definitely audible. When I attempt to roll away from her to get up, she, in her sleep, grabs on and pouts. I find myself so astonished by this that I stay in bed an extra ten minutes, just experiencing this.
It’s adorable.
She’s nuzzled into my chest, one arm thrown over me, holding onto my bicep the other wrapped under my arm around the back of my shoulder. She’s like a pet monkey, hanging on.
Needing to answer the call of nature and get my ass to the office, I finally pry her off me, though do it carefully trying my best not to wake her. I succeed and head into the other bedroom.
Before I leave, I peek back in. She is crashed still and now she’s on her stomach. She’s naked and the blankets are bunched around her waist, so I’ve got a beautiful view of all sorts of flawless skin. She’s got her arms up and under the pillow her head is on, so I’ve also got an eyeful of side boob.
I sneak in, crouch, and drop a kiss on her cheekbone.
Her eyes pop open.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Jada blinks and smiles at me. It’s a shy smile, a smile that for some reason makes my dick twitch.
I lean in once again and kiss her on the mouth. Her fingers reach up and tangle in my hair for a minute.
“Have a good day,” she whispers.
“Sleep some more,” I order. “Sorry I woke you.”
“M-kay.” Her eyes drift closed and I stand there an extra minute, looking at her curves, her skin, at the messy dark blonde hair that’s splayed across the pillow.
Finally, I back out and leave. And I’m smiling all the way to the elevator. While on my way down to the lobby, my phone rings.
My mother. Like a record scratch and brakes my fantastic mood screeches to a halt. I mute the call as the elevator doors open to the lobby.
The security guard from last night stands there with Buster, the daytime concierge, looking over at me as I come out of the elevator.
I’m late this morning; I don’t usually come down during their handoff – the night guy is typically still at the desk.
And now I’ve got a scowl on my face.
The day guy greets me. “Mornin’.”
The night guy gives me an assessing look.
“Mornin’. Thanks for taking care of my girl last night,” I say to the night guy.
His eyebrows rise; he doesn’t know what to make of that.
And frankly, I’m not sure I do either. I didn’t calculate it, don’t know how to feel about it now that I’ve done it, but I do know this is me pissing on my patch.
He’s also not hiding that he’s looking down his nose at me. And I can guess why his expression is both judgmental and assessing. He doesn’t know if she really is my girl or if I’m referring to her as my employee.
Did she tell him I made her leave? If so, he’s also judging me for the fact that she was in the lobby last night, looking for a place to go.
Yeah, buddy, I’m judging myself for that shit, too.
I head out of the building and as I flag down a cab my phone is ringing again.
Audra Carmichael calling.
Again.
I answer the phone and say, “One sec,” to her and then tell the driver the address of the office before I lean back in the seat and blow out a long breath.
“Mother,” I greet.
“You’re on your way to the office? Good, I’ll meet you there.”
“I’ve got a full morning. Just talk to me now. Traffic’s thick so I’ve got at least twenty minutes sittin’ here where you can continue to plead your case if necessary. Though, really, it’s not.”
“Well, Austin, I said what I had to say last night. Did you get a chance to reflect on it?”
I spent my time on much better pursuits last night, for the first time in days not consumed with trying to choke down the shit sandwich I’ve been served.
“I said what I had to say, so you should be talking to Sienna, not me.”
“I’ve done that. Last night. She wants to meet with you. Can you fly home and meet with her tonight?”
“I just got back here after days in San Diego for Dad. I’m here for a reason.”
“I realize this. Maybe you’ll consider flying out for just the weekend.”
I don’t even know what day it is for a second, then it dawns that it’s Friday. But I was in San Diego last weekend. And this is Sienna Greer expecting me to fly to see her when she’s public enemy number one to me.
“No. Can’t do it. I want proof she’s pregnant and a paternity test proving it’s mine before I talk to her about a thing.”
“So, you’re going to let this carry on, then? Put everyone through this stress?”
Everyone? What about my stress?
“She can start the ball rolling now, Mother. This isn’t me playing games. There’s no reason for me to get on another plane this week. If she’s pregnant, she should go to a doctor and have proof filed with her attorneys who will get in touch with mine. My attorneys have already been briefed on her claim. The ball is in her court, not mine.”
“Fine. I’m going home then. I guess we’ll wait and see what she does,” she announces unhappily.
“Like I said, I’m not the one who did this. She’s responsible for all of it. As far as I’m concerned, her pregnancy doesn’t exist until I see proof and it doesn’t factor in the charges against her unless there’s proof of paternity. If that’s the case, I’m still not promising to drop any charges. Do you have any idea how all this has shit on my life? Do you care about anything other than your precious Roger and how upset he is?”
“That isn’t fair. I’m just trying to facilitate something that will help all of us. You. That unborn baby. Roger. And by extension, me.”
“Right. Or you could stay out of it.”
