Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to fuck both,” I snap. “And why the hell not?”
He grins wolfishly at me. “I bet you do. And do you really want to give all that money back?”
I crack my neck and watch him warily as he stands. He’s right, though. About the money, not the fucking. It’s too late to come up with rent in another week. I’d have to rob my truck payment money to buy me some time, but that’s a very temporary solution because it’s due the week after rent.
“Please clean up after yourself,” I grit out. “This shit stresses me out.”
His features soften as he turns on the sink. “That’s all you had to say. A simple please.”
I don’t believe that for a second. Riko seems the type you have to hammer in your point a few thousand times for him to get it into his thick skull.
But how do you know that, though? You don’t know shit about him.
“If I get this all cleaned up by the time you get home, will you reward me for being a good boy?” Another taunting grin over his shoulder.
“You want a cookie for being a good roomie?”
“Is that a euphemism for a blow job?”
I groan, and again, my hand itches to pop him on the ass. I’ve never had such a visceral urge to punish someone before. I’m a gentle lover, dammit.
Wait…
Why the hell am I allowing him to get inside my head again? I’m not confused about my sex life. He just frazzles the fuck out of me and I end up flustered. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t want to punish him in some kinky sort of way that ends with us both getting off.
My dick jolts, calling me out for that lie. I ignore it.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I grumble, skirting past him as fast as I can. “Bye, Riko.”
“Bye, Derek. I hate oatmeal. Love snickerdoodle. But for blow jobs, I enjoy a side of ass fingering. Get your finger nice and wet first, though, because that shit hurts otherwise—”
I slam the front door behind me, thankfully ending that conversation.
But, the entire way to work, I can’t erase his words from my head no matter how much I try to focus on the music blasting from the speakers.
Flashes of his firm, muscular ass assault my mind against my will.
And why do I like the idea of my hand smacking it?
Riko has finally infiltrated my mind.
I am so fucked.
Riko
Sometimes I act before I think. I sure as shit speak before I consider the ramifications. I’ve fucked up and I know it. The look on Derek’s face before he stormed out of the house this morning has remained etched in my brain.
He hates me.
Can’t say I blame him.
After the thrill of riling him up passed, I was overcome with guilt and shame. There’s no reason to torment the poor guy. Sure, he’s hot. Would I love to make good on all the teasing? Hell yeah. But, I enjoyed the thrill of poking the bear for no other reason than my sole entertainment.
I’m a shitty roommate.
And, if I keep up my antics, I’ll have to run my ass back home with my tail between my legs.
That can’t happen which is why I’ve spent the whole damn day cleaning the house. Plus, I literally have nothing else to do. When you decide to quit college, it frees up quite a bit of time.
After bagging up an embarrassing amount of trash in my bedroom, I make my second trip to the dumpster for the day. It’s not exactly close, but not far enough to drive either, so I make the trek past a couple of other units on foot. Having been on my feet all day, my hamstring is aching. Unfortunately, ibuprofen isn’t cutting it.
One of the units directly across from the dumpsters has a neat and tidy front porch. However, their neighbors are ridiculous. There are lawn chairs all over the grass and empty beer cans overflow from a trashcan in the middle. Hanging from two trees is a barrel painted to look like a bull. These neighbor seem fun. Too bad I didn’t get set up with them instead.
And miss the hottie in his brown uniform?
I just need to make peace with my roomie. It’s all good. Doesn’t mean I can’t come introduce myself later to these people.
On my way back, I pass the tidy unit, another unit, and stop in front of the third unit when a soccer ball rolls right over to me. I whip my head up to see two school age kids grinning at me.
“Want to play with us?” the boy asks. He’s missing a tooth.
“We saw your shirt said Ronaldo on the back,” the girl chimes in. “We know you like soccer too.”
I’m not sure the girl is old enough to read.