A feather light touch floating over my happy trail caused me to stir in more ways than one. My eyes fluttered opened to see her head propped on a bent arm and a wicked smile on her face.
“Hi.”
“Did I wake you?” she asked just as her hand slipped under the sheet to continue tracing the line of hair straight to my morning wood. It didn’t stop there when she trailed her fingertips over the full length of my cock from tip to base and back.
“Feel free to wake me up this way every morning.” My voice was thick and rough from lack of sleep.
“Not every morning.” Her hand gripped me and squeezed. “Sometimes, I’ll use my tongue to trace that sexy as hell trail before I take you into my mouth.”
“Damn, woman.” I gave her a hard stare, one that read—be careful what you offer.
Undeterred, she continued to pump me slow and hard. Fuck, I loved this Haven… fearless, bold, confident in what she wanted and not afraid to take it. Usually, she wore her emotions on her sleeve. It was in the bedroom, without any outside influences, when the uninhibited version of Haven emerged.
I wondered if it was me who brought that out in her, or was it desire? Was she a vixen with the cocksuckers she dated? Cocksucker may be harsh, but every guy she’d been with was indeed an asshole. By asking her if she’d always been this brazen I was afraid she’d become self-conscious, and selfishly I didn’t want to lose this side of her.
“Keep doing that and I’m going to come. I’d rather come in you.”
“That can be arranged.” She released me with a smile and snuggled up against me. “Last night was amazing, Vaughn. From the dinner and dancing, to the mind-blowing sex, it was the best night of my life.”
“The best, huh?” I repeated my question from when she admitted I was the best sex she had.
“Don’t go letting it get to your head. Your lack of human competition is pretty pitiful.”
“Human?” I asked amused. “Have you had affairs with aliens that I wasn’t aware of?”
“No silly… machinery.”
My mouth gaped open at her admission. “Is that so? What kind of machinery?”
“The hand-held, battery operated kind. A woman has needs, and sometimes toys are all that’s available to her.” Her admission produced a fantastic visual.
“Do you have a favorite… toy?”
“My rabbit.”
“Where is this rabbit you speak of?”
“In my boxes in the guestroom. Why?”
I gave her a gentle shove and said, “Go get it.”
She lay naked and sprawled beside me on the area rug in my living room. The pinky of her right hand linked with the one on my left, otherwise we weren’t touching. Partly because any more contact than that would have started the vicious cycle all over again.
Last night, we weren’t in our apartment for more than ten minutes when we started making out which led to fucking. Afterwards, she admitted we were out of control and needed to stop. She suggested having sex only on weekends. Naturally, I would not agree to that insane solution. Yes our addiction was fierce, but weekday abstinence was an unrealistic form of therapy.
Haven concluded it was my fault. She had gone months without sex and thanks to her rabbit was perfectly content with her methods. But then I came along with my profession of love, charming personality, drop-dead gorgeous looks, and magic cock. The combination effectively broke her seal, and now she was out of control.
We hadn’t moved in a long time, and I thought she passed out until she said, “We’re sexaholics.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“We’re both lying here dead to the world. I don’t think I’m being dramatic. What time is it?”
Exhaustion stopped me from lifting my head to see the time on the DVR, or reaching for my phone on the coffee table.
“It can’t be later than eleven.” The drawn shades made it hard to tell if it was still morning or night. Haven wouldn’t have sex in my apartment with the shades up, something I was working on. The visual of her hands pressing against the window as I took her from behind was hot as fuck.
Shit, maybe we were sexaholics.
“Could you die from too much sex?” she asked beside me.
“No. The worst that could happen is dehydration and fatigue. As long as we eat and drink, we’ll be fine.”
“Well, that’s a problem. I’m starving and in dire need of coffee, but I can’t move.”
“I got you.” Every muscle in my body protested when I sat up. Her head twisted toward me otherwise she remained completely immobile. I reached for my phone and announced, “It’s almost noon.”
“That late? I had so much to do today.”
Sometime during the middle of the night, as we held each other and chatted, Haven said she wanted to clear out the rest of her apartment. She admitted she wasn’t giving up on trying to find another place of her own, but it was silly to pay rent for something she refused to go back to.
I agreed about the paying rent part without argument, but I didn’t agree with the “finding another place of her own.” I felt, why? We successfully proved so far that we made great roommates. There was no reason to go backward. I liked living with her.
But pushing Haven wasn’t the answer. I learned that every hurdle she conjured up needed to be navigated in her own way. If I just sat back and waited, and so far she’d proven my theory at every turn, eventually she came to a logical conclusion on her own.
I stood and offered my hands to her. “Get up. Time to eat, and then we’ll go to your apartment and pack the rest of your stuff to bring here.”
She took my hands and groaned as I hoisted her into a standing position. Once up, I pulled her against my body and wrapped her in my arms. My hands landed on her bare ass, her breasts pressed against my chest, and fuck if that didn’t cause my dick to laugh mockingly.
“He has a mind of his own, doesn’t he?” Haven asked in response to his hardening against her belly.
“Yeah. And usually, he wins.”
She took a tiny step back and looked down. “There’s a new sheriff in town, buddy. Until I’m fed and caffeinated, you get nothing more.” Placing a condescending pat on the top of his head, she strolled into my kitchen without looking back.
The fucker jerked in protest, and sent a painful jolt of arousal straight to his accomplice, my balls.
“Can you please put something on?” I asked when I walked in behind her. She was pulling coffee, eggs, and butter out of the fridge while still naked. “You’re antagonizing him, and he’s making things difficult for me.”
She turned and grinned, although I didn’t think it was funny. “Okay, fine.” I watched her walk into my bedroom and emerge a few seconds later wearing my T-shirt and nothing else. Sadly that challenged the fucker standing at attention between my legs, and a dull aching throb descended on my groin like an erotic plague.
In that moment, I knew that somehow I’d become a casualty in the battle between Haven and my dick.
Between the sex-a-thon and the menial labor of packing up her apartment, I was going to need a vacation after this weekend. Hell, I was in great shape. I worked out Monday to Friday, yet there I was feeling like an old man. We’d been at it for a few hours now, and lack of food and sex were making me cranky.
She walked out of her bedroom with another filled box and stopped upon seeing me reclining on her couch.
“Seriously?”
“You’re a slave driver.”
“I’ll ignore that comment.”
After I watched her return to her bedroom, my eyes slid shut. The loud thump of a box hitting the floor beside me woke me the fuck back up. “Shit, Haven.”
“Sorry,” she said, although the smirk on her face contradicted her apology.
“You’re mean when you’re on a mission.”
She sat on the coffee table before me and ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Yeah? You’ll order a pizza and we’ll fuck as we wait for it?” I suggested.
“No.” Reaching for a small box, she plopped it on my stomach. “Just pack up my desk for me and you can relax after that.”
My eyes cut to the piece of furniture she referred to. One slim pencil drawer, two medium side drawers, and typical desk accessories on top–okay, I could do that in no time.
“Fine.”
She leaned closer and kissed me chastely. “You’re the best. I have a few more boxes to fill and then we’ll call it a day. I’ll come back tomorrow after class. Okay?”
“Okay.”
With a smile, she disappeared back into her room leaving me on the couch with my small box. I sauntered to her desk chair, plopped on it, and started on one of the side drawers. Because she was so neat and organized, her desk was emptied in no time. There was one end table beside the couch with one small drawer. Taking it upon my self, I decided to pack it along with her desk stuff.
Pulling out a few remotes, I slid it shut when an object at the back of the drawer made a clunking sound.
Reaching in, I found a small old model flip phone and chuckled. I flipped it open and hit the power button. Surprised to see it come to life, I called out, “Haven, why do you still have this thing?” It had to have been at least ten years old.
“What thing?” she responded from the other room.
I hit the right arrow until her contacts appeared on the small screen. My eyes landed on two numbers listed–my office number at Galaxy and my cell. Just as she entered the living room and repeated, “What thing?” I saw her last incoming text. On the screen were the well wishes that I had sent to Apple.
Confused, I looked up to where she stood frozen in the doorway.
“What’s this?”
My mind tried to process why an old phone in my girlfriend’s apartment showed evidence of a conversation I had with a stranger. Even harder was trying to understand why my girlfriend paled when our eyes connected again.
“Vaughn.”
“It’s you?”
“I can explain.”
“You’re Apple?” She stepped closer, and I instinctively stepped back.
My reaction stopped her in her tracks. I hated the sad look on her face, yet I couldn’t bring myself to go to her. All I felt as I sat there staring at her while the pieces to the puzzle fell into place was antipathy.