Chapter 9
Nicholas
It’s messing with my head.
I’d never wanted to kiss somebody so bad in my life, seeing Blakely standing there in her flowy pink dress with her hair cascading over her shoulder and her fair skin on display. And when I got close to her to clasp that necklace around her neck, my mind quickly gallivanted into inappropriate territory. A reckless part of me wondered what it would take to make a girl like her wet. I wondered what it would be like to make her come all over my hands, all over my tongue, all over my cock.
I try to put a stop to the thoughts but damn, I want her. My erection won’t let the subject go.
This is fucked up.
I throw open the freezer and stick my head inside to cool the hell off. The cold air billows into my face, chilling my cheeks. Calm down, buddy.
Since my head is in there anyway, I decide to grab a frozen pizza. I rip it out of its packaging and slide it into the oven. I try to move my attention to something other than how badly I want to bang my roommate but it’s no use. My cock is as hard as titanium. She’s at a wedding right now. Probably meeting tons of single douchebags trying to get their dicks wet the moment they lay their eyes on her. And here I am pining over her like some fool.
I need release.
I go into my bedroom and lie on the bed, pushing my pants down around my ankles. I jerk my rod roughly and I can’t help but imagine Blakely on her knees in front of me. She’s wearing that dress. The one she wore to the wedding. She looks like a fucking angel.
An angel with a cock in her mouth.
I chuckle at the thought but I come so hard that I see stars.
Lying there, panting, I struggle to catch my breath. Sweat beads on my forehead and my heart beats fast. Is it hot in here, or what?
And what’s that smell?
The next thing I know the fire alarm is shrieking throughout the apartment and the sprinklers are flinging water everywhere. Shit!
I leap off of my bed, nearly tripping over my pants. I rush into the smoky kitchen and flick off the oven switch. Opening the oven door, toxic clouds burn my eyes.
That’s what I get for defiling my innocent, little roommate in my mind.
Thankfully, there’s only smoke. No fire. But my throat is sore from the scent of charred pizza. I switch off the water valve on the wall and the sprinklers shut off. After lots of effort, I manage to get the window open.
Only then, do I take a deep breath. I look around me and survey the damage. My dinner is a goner and gray smoke fills the room. Plus, every surface is drenched. Clean up is gonna be a bitch.
Goddamit! The Universe has a fucked up sense of humor.
And just when I think it can’t possibly get worse, I notice Blakely's brand new laptop sitting on the kitchen table. Opened. Charging. Wet.
Fuck!
I spring into action, knowing that every second counts. I act fast, switching off the power breaker before disconnecting the computer from the charger and turning it off in the hopes of preventing damage. Luckily, I don’t get electrocuted. I bring the laptop into my bedroom and set it on the bed. “Ah, fuck me!” I grunt. No time to feel sorry for myself, though.
I commence Operation: Save My Roommate’s Laptop, cursing myself all the way.
After wiping it down with a dry towel, I find a screwdriver to take it apart. I have to work quickly to ensure that the circuit boards don't get damaged. I dry off all the components as best I can, even using the vacuum cleaner to suck out some of the water.
I keep an eye on the clock as I work. I have no idea what time she’ll be back from the wedding. I reassemble the machine and hold my breath as it boots up. Everything is looking good so far. The screen is fine and I don't notice any shorts. To login, I shoot Emily a quick text and ask her for Blakely’s password. (Even though she just changed computers, most people use the same password across multiple devices.) Of course, Emily has tons of questions about what I’m up to. I give her the cliffnotes version of the situation as I log in.
I open a few programs to make sure everything is running as it should. When I open the word processing software, the last document Blakely was working on pops up. Its title catches my eye.
Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate: A Bad Boy Romance.
Pause…What?!
Of course, that piques my curiosity. I scroll further down the page and begin reading.
It starts out innocently enough. Rick, a tall, dark and handsome tech genius from Silicon Valley moves in with Bailey, a broke red-headed college girl. They each try to keep to themselves as best they can.
Blahblahblah…
Next thing I know, the female protagonist is giving herself a heck of an orgasm while sitting on the washing machine and daydreaming about her roomie as his clothes pass through the spin cycle. It’s all described in vivid detail.
Shock runs through my system as my cock twitches in my pants. I can’t take my eyes off of the screen. The more I scroll through the document, the more intrigued and horny I become.
A few paragraphs later, it becomes crystal clear. My innocent, virginal roommate is writing painfully awkward smut...about me.