Sucker Punched (11 page)

Me: Blake!

Blake: What, I can’t type the word “tits”? Fine then, BREASTS as perfect as yours are no laughing matter. Geez.

Me: Omg…

Me: We’re supposed to be friends, remember? That means you can’t talk about my boobs.

Blake: I never agreed to those terms, Duchess. I just (reluctantly) agreed not to touch them.

I shouldn’t be smiling like this as I read that. There’s nothing platonic about these texts. I should be telling him to knock it off, but instead my thumbs type out a question I’ve been dying to ask.

When I’m done, I hover over the backspace key, debating on whether or not to send it. Before I chicken out, I press send.

Why do you keep calling me that?

It takes him a minute to respond.

Blake: Do you not like it?

Me: I do, I’m just curious.

Blake: The first time I saw you, I thought you were gorgeous and way out of my league. I’m the stable boy to your duchess, Duchess.

I bite my lip, reading over his text again and again. Damn it, I
definitely
shouldn’t be smiling this much.

Me: Should I start calling you Stable Boy?

Blake: Only if we’re role-playing in the bedroom.

Yeah, right.

Me: Lololol

Blake: Fine. Be a tease.

Me: How am I being a tease?

Blake: Because you’ve been shamelessly flirting with me this whole time and you clearly have no intention of following through.

Me: ME?? You’re the one who’s been talking about my boobs and “role-playing.”

Blake: Why the quotes? I was dead serious about that. And who’s talking about your boobs now, Duchess? ;) Srsly tho, you should quit molestering me. It’s inappropriate. You better be glad you’re hot, ’cause I wouldn’t take this kind of harassment from just anyone.

Me: Molestering?

Blake: Molest/pestering. You like?

Me: Lol, I do.

Blake: You would.

Me: Well I’ll try to rein it in from now on.

Blake: I can make no such promises.

I roll my eyes and laugh, even though I shouldn’t. 

Me: I have class in the morning, so I should probably get to bed…

Blake: How old are you?

Me: 21, why? How old are you?

Blake: 25. Just didn’t realize I’d bagged a co-ed, that’s all.

Me: Congrats?

I don’t really know how to respond to that.

Blake: Thank you. What are you majoring in, btw?

Me: Political science. Then I’m off to law school. Yay.

Blake: You don’t want to be a lawyer?

Me: I think my dad wants it more than I do. And it’s not that I don’t WANT to be a lawyer, I just don’t want to be the kind of lawyer he wants me to be. I don’t want to be some soulless asshole. I want to help people. Do some pro-bono work.

Blake: You’re already a pro at boning ;)

Me: And you’re incorrigible.

Blake: Before you go to bed, tell me something first.

Me: What?

Blake: Are you really wearing granny panties right now?

Me: Nope. I’m not wearing ANY panties right now. Goodnight, Blake ;)

Blake: Welp, I know what I’ll be jerking off to tonight. Thanks for the visual, Duchess.

Rereading his text, I can’t keep from smiling. How messed up is it that I
want
him to think of me when he does that? It’s not very friendly of me.

The sudden sound of Kelsey’s door opening has me tossing my phone down and scrambling off the bed. She was already “occupied” when I got home, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to her today about renewing our lease, which expires next fucking week if we don’t get new papers signed and filed with management. 

Kelsey’s not exactly the most organized or most punctual person I’ve met, but we’re cuttin’ it
real
close here. Mama’s startin’ to sweat.

I grab the stack of papers off my dresser and throw open my door, going in search of my roommate from hell. She’s not in the bathroom. I walk into the living room and see a light on in the kitchen.

Please be Kelsey and not Brandon. Please be Kelsey and not Brandon. . .

I round the corner of the breakfast bar and almost sigh in relief when I see Kelsey in her bathrobe, making sandwiches for her and her boyfriend. With
my
goddamn groceries. Because, you know, they have to keep up their energy for their raucous lovemaking.

She sees me approaching and smiles. “Oh hey, Macy. Do you think you could turn your TV down just a bit? It’s kinda loud.” She winces like she doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but all I can think is, 
I’m
being too loud?

Bitch, please. I’m pretty sure the whole building can hear her having sex.

I swallow the urge to strangle her and slap the paperwork on the counter. “I need you to sign these, Kelsey, before I have a nervous breakdown.” I pull out the pen I’d tucked into the big binder clip keeping all the papers together and hold it out to her. 

Last week when I finally cornered her with the paperwork and asked her to sign it, I made the mistake of not having a pen handy. I had to go find one and by the time I got back—all of
fifteen seconds later
—she was back in her room doing whatever it is that makes Brandon squeal like a pig. 

Kelsey doesn’t take the pen. Instead she wrinkles her nose and says, “Brandon asked me to move in with him. I’ll be out by this weekend.”

I wait for her to tell me she’s kidding, but when a whole five seconds pass and she doesn’t say anything along those lines, I start to panic. And by “panic” I mean lose my ever-loving mind.

Oh my god, this cannot be happening. She
cannot
be leaving me high and dry with only a week to spare. What kind of a selfish cunt would do that?

Oh, that’s right. 

Kelsey. 

Kelsey
would fucking do that.

I slide my hands down my face, struggling to understand. “You’ve been dodging me for a month, Kelsey. A
month
. Why would you wait so long to tell me?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t want you to be mad at me,” she says blithely.

“So you wait until the week before the lease is up to tell me?” My voice rises to a level only dogs can hear as I shriek at her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Was it your
head
banging against the wall instead of your headboard? God, how fucking inconsiderate can you be?”

I storm out of the kitchen, leaving the paperwork behind. When I get to my room, I slam the door and turn up the volume on my TV out of spite. 

I knew Kelsey was a bitch and that the odds of me finding a normal, sane roommate on Craigslist were not in my favor, but this is some next level shit. 

What the hell am I going to do now? I sure as hell can’t afford this place by myself, so it’s either move back home with my parents or try to find a dorm room with less than a month left in the semester—both of which sound about as fun as slamming a car door on my hand.

That leaves me with option #3, I guess. Find a new roommate in a week.

Tori’s the only girl I sleep with on a somewhat consistent basis. It’s not because she’s gorgeous or because the sex is out-of-this-world fantastic. 

It’s
okay
. Nothing I would forsake every other girl for, but good enough to keep me coming back for more.

The reason Tori’s in my bed more than anyone else? She’s not looking for a commitment.

There are no strings with her, no expectations. I can fuck her one night, then not see her for weeks or months at a time. There are no hurt feelings when I don’t call and no jealousy when I hook up with someone else, since she does it too. 

It’s the perfect arrangement.

She climbs on top of me, straddling my lap. My hands automatically go to her hips, grinding her against my cock, while her fingers thread through my hair, tugging my head back roughly. She bites my bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth, moaning like she can’t get enough of me. 

That last shot I took before we left the bar is starting to catch up with me, so I’m sure my mouth’s not that coordinated right now. I’m probably kissing for shit, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Shit, she doesn’t seem to care about anything other than getting my jeans open and my dick out. 

A woman after my own heart.

The thought has me drunkenly smiling in the dark as her fingers ease my fly apart. Then the stairs creak, and it’s like a bucket of cold water’s been thrown on my crotch when I hear my dad say, “Whoops.”

“
Fuck
.” I pull my jeans together as Tori looks over her shoulder. 

I completely forgot he was still here.

Dad’s hand flies up to shield his eyes. “I didn’t see nothin’,” he insists, blindly trying to turn and haul ass up the steps. 

He’s gonna fall down the stairs and break his freakin’ hip.

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Dad, it’s fine. You didn’t interrupt anything.”
Yet
. I pat Tori’s thigh, motioning for her to get up.

“You sure?” He carefully lowers his hands like he’s afraid to get an eyeful. It’d be funny if I wasn’t the one getting cock-blocked right now.

Standing up, I face away from him and zip up. “Yes.” I don’t mean to sound irritated with him, but fuck. What am I, sixteen? Getting caught on the couch by your dad shouldn’t happen after a certain age.

He rushes down the stairs, toward the still-lit kitchen. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be out of your hair, kids.”

Not helping, Dad.

I give Tori an awkward smile as he crosses the room. When he’s out of earshot, I huff out an exasperated breath. “He’ll be gone in a couple days, but if you want, I’ll tell him to go home now. He’s got a bus pass and a jacket. He’ll be fine.” My mouth turns down as I wave dismissively.

She laughs. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“What’s
harsh
is walking in on a guy when he’s about to get his dick touched.”

Tori smiles and steps closer, reaching out to play with the waistband of my jeans. “If we go upstairs, I’ll touch it all you want. I’ll even put my mouth on it.”

Her lips brush mine and I stifle a groan as I kiss her. I’m two seconds away from throwing her over my shoulder like a firefighter and taking her upstairs so I can spray her with my hose when my phone dings in my pocket. 

It’s probably Macy.

I break away from Tori’s mouth. “Why don’t you go on up? I’m gonna check on my dad real quick. Make sure we’re not interrupted again.”

“Hurry up. I don’t want to have to start without you.” Tori struts to the stairs, her ass swaying with each step she ascends. 

A line like that would’ve had me chasing after her a couple weeks ago. But now? Now I’m pulling out my phone instead of going upstairs to have sex. 

I briefly wonder what the fuck is wrong with me until I read Macy’s text.

Today sucked. Make me smile?

Why does it feel so damn good to know that she asked me to cheer her up? Grinning, I type out a response and hit send.

Me: What did Cinderella do when she got to the ball?

Macy: …I don’t know. What?

Me: She gagged.

Macy: Lol, no wonder Prince Charming was so adamant about finding her ;)

Me: Why did your day suck?

Macy: It’s a long story. But everything’s fine, it’s just not…ideal.