Chapter 21
Nicholas
When I open my eyes the next morning, I’m not sure whether last night was just a dream – a hot, erotic, filthy wet dream starring my shy and sexy good-girl roommate – or reality.
But by the time I roll out of bed, it all comes back to me in vivid detail. Blakely in my bed, on her back, squirting her desire all over my tongue. Shit. Last night really happened. And that was just lesson 1.1.
I run my hand down my face, feeling overwhelmed. I was supposed to fuck her last night. I didn’t. I’m stalling. I know. But even with the candles burning and the music on low, something didn’t feel right. One look at her after I ate her pussy the second time, and I could see that she was spent and delirious. So, I decided to let her rest and rebuild her strength. There’s no need to rush when we have more than enough time.
So, we've still got the remaining items on the wish list to go through. Just that thought has my cock growing heavy and my chest growing tight.
And it’s not just a physical reaction. My emotions are getting involved, too. My heart felt full last night, full enough to split open. Blakely made me feel needed when she looked up into my eyes, begging for my touch.
Needed. It’s not a feeling I’ve experienced much in my lifetime. Actually, I felt like a hindrance, a burden for most of my childhood. I felt like me and my disorder were a strain on my parents, their finances and their patience. So much so that my father left and my mother blamed me for it. So eventually, I went numb. Immersing myself in technology, I carved out a little nook just for me. But last night when Blakely looked at me all willing and vulnerable, I felt the courage to crawl out of my cavern and share space in hers. It felt nice. Very fucking nice. And the fact that it’s only temporary is bugging the fuck out of me right now.
Jesus.
I’m starting to crack. How am I supposed to keep my cool about this girl? One night with her and I'm already feeling unsteady. What's gonna happen to me once I actually have sex with her?
I’m fucking screwed because I can’t allow myself to want her. I’m damaged and I can’t let my wounds infect someone so pure and innocent. Besides, she’s not looking for a relationship. She says she only wants sexual experience. (And she means it. Last night after she settled from all her orgasms, she went back to her bedroom to write. She didn’t stay with me and try to talk and cuddle like other girls do.) Once she gets what she’s after, we’ll be done. We’ll go back to just being roommates.
I pad into the kitchen and there she is, leaning against the kitchen sink nursing a hot cup of coffee, eyes locked on the laptop screen sitting on the counter next to her.
"Morning," I say running a hand through my messy hair.
She beams, absolutely glowing in the morning light. "Morning."
I'd been concerned that a girl like Blakely would be totally weird the day after, that she'd feel guilty or shy. But here she is, all carefree and beautiful, being her breathtaking self.
Her red hair is pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. She's wearing yoga pants with a spandex top that squeezes her perfect breasts together. She looks well-rested and energized and I'm pretty sure it has everything to do with last night.
"How do you feel?" I try to keep my eyes on her face instead of her cleavage.
She grins at me.
She has such a pretty face. She smiles at me, and I feel like I’m flying. When we met, she was so shy and guarded. Having her open up to me now is the best. Like I must be doing something right. "I feel great. I got so much writing done last night. I sent it off to my editor and she loves it."
"That's awesome, Blakely." My gaze locks on hers, exploring the depths of those emerald pools.
Her expression goes solemn. "Thank you, Nicholas. You're really helping me take my writing career to the next level."
Her words are like cold water splashed in my face. A reminder that she's not doing this for me. She's doing it for her writing, her stories. Not because she feels anything for me.
Sex, Nicholas. This is about sex. The most beautiful girl wants to fuck me. That’s not exactly a hardship.
She spins toward her laptop, giving her ass to me. "I can't wait for the next lesson." She sets her coffee cup down.
I go up behind her, pressing my shaft into the curve of her back. "Well, we could get started now..."
She looks at me over her shoulder. "What do you have in mind?" She asks teasingly, eyes batting coquettishly.
Shoving down my hurt feelings, I grab a hold of her ponytail and jerk her head back firmly. I seal my lips over hers and she gives in, curving her spine and moaning softly. One hand settles at the apex of her thighs, cupping her pussy while the other brushes over her breasts.
"Lesson one-point-two," I rasp out, "oral sex: giving."