Irritation hums just below my sternum as I grab my spent dick in preparation to remove the condom, but I pause as something feels a littleoff.
Glancing down, I see that the rubber has slid to about the halfway point of my shaft, and that’s never happened before. I probably lingered inside too long, and I wonder if this is dicey. I angle my head lower to inspect everything. All the cum is still down in the reservoir tip of the condom just as it should be, and nothing else appears to be wrong. It just looks like it shifted a little when I slid out. Nothing to worry about.
I pull it off, tie it off, and forget about it.
13
A KNOCK ON THE bedroom door shakes me awake, and my eyelids flinch.That scentis all around me, and it’s intoxicating enough that I nestle closer to the source of it.
It’s only after about ten seconds and another knock at the door that I break through the fog of being half-asleep and realize the scent is Colin—duh—and that I’m buried face-first in his clavicle. One of my arms is draped over his waist, and one of his arms is caging my shoulders and trapping me against his naked chest.
I can’t even blame alcohol this time. We were literally just watching TV. It was Saturday Night Live, and we were bemoaning the fact that the current cast can’t compare to the one from the nineties when we were both kids. And that wasafterwe had sexagain.Again, completely sober, and I’m wondering exactly how much of an idiot I am.
“You want me as much as I want you,” Colin’s graveled the accusing words from last night.
He’s not wrong. Ido. Obviously. But just like I told him thefirst night, I don’t want the guy I ended up realizing he actually is. The two-faced asshole who threw me under the bus, and capped my commissions at a percentage that has forced me to live on mostly Ramen noodles for the past six months, and gave me legitimate anxiety about coming to work every single day because I know he’s always going to act like a dick to me. I want the guy from the coffee shop. And yes, I realize heisthat guy, but Colin is two-faced. As evident from this weekend. It took all of two days for him to go from terrorizing me and calling mesmug, to putting his shirt on me and wrapping me up against him while we slept. He is Russian roulette andnottrustworthy to be the cute, sweet, funny version of himself he initially showed me.
Andnow,I have slept with himtwiceand have no ability to quit my job once we get home.
Who knows what version of him I’m going to get once we get back to the daily grind?
I’m going to have to figure out how to quit anyway because I need to get away from him.
A third knock sounds at the door, and I lift my head to look at Colin’s sleeping face. He’s a different brand of hot while he’s sleeping. All of his strong, chiseled aristocratic features are relaxed, full lips parted slightly, his dark lashes flat against the skin just below his eyes, and his eyelashes are uncommonly long for a guy. He’s sporting enough early morning stubble that it underscores how much of a man he is, and he really is tempting.
But not tempting enough for me to be even more of an idiot than I already have been by letting this nonsense continue when we get home.
“Colin.” I pat his back and shake him, causing his eyelids to flinch. “Someone’s at the door.”
His eyelids fly open, revealing his sleep-glazed, crystalline blue eyes. “Huh?”
“Someone’s knocking.” I pat him and shake him one more time as I shift away from him to lie on my back.
He pushes up to sitting and rubs the heel of his palm over his eyes before leaping out of the bed. Gray sweatpants hanging low on his narrow hips. No shirt. Nothing concealing the fact he basically looks photoshopped in real life. Colin doesn’t just have a six-pack. No, merelysixis apparently not enough for the likes of Colin, just like his six-figure income isn’t enough, and he needs to add an extra million-dollar commission to his fat bank account. No, Colin has aneight-pack. I didn’t even think such a thing existed, but there it is. Right across the room from me and hastily being hidden while he pulls on a thin, white t-shirt.
Colin rakes his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair as he marches to the door. Despite him cracking it open only wide enough to poke his head through, I pull the sheets over my head. The voice of the person on the other side is so low that I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, and Colin doesn’t say much to them in response.
When he does, it’s a marginally polite, yet clipped, “Give us about an hour. We just woke up.”
After another second or two, I hear the door close and his bare feet pad across the hardwood and then the rug, and then the sheet gets tugged away from my head.
“Hey,” Colin says, dropping the sheet and rubbing his eyes again. “You good?”
“Who was that?” I ask in place of answering. “What’s going on?”
“Fortuna wants us to go back over there to talk with her and Ernesto over breakfast.”
I cringe and curl up one half of my lip. “You want to do that?”
He hitches one shoulder, his exposed biceps and triceps hulking and flexing and stretching the sleeves of the t-shirt to its limits. He rakes back his hair again, and he looks likepornwhen he’s just woken up. “Not really, but I will. She asked specifically that you come, too, but I won’t make you do that. You don’t owe them anything, and after what he called you, I think they’d both understand.”
I sit up straight, clutching the sheet around my waist, and I slept inhis shirtagain. Again, without even having the excuse of being drunk. “Just out of curiosity, whatdidhe call me?”
Colin purses his lips. “I’m not going to repeat it, but it was unacceptable even if he knew you likely didn’t understand it. But I will say that it was far more vulgar than you going without the pasties under your dress.”
I smirk. “Look at you trying to be a gentleman.”
“This is less me trying to be a gentleman than it is me refusing to use that word in reference to you.” He places his hands on his hips as he pivots and strides toward the en suite bathroom. “I’ll shower really quick and then it’s all yours.”
