“I’m making a mess of you. It’s fair you make a mess of me, too.”
I don’t add that it’s fitting since I’m a huge mess inside. Instead, I grab another washcloth and wipe his cock. It’s still at half-mast and probably wouldn’t need much attention to rise back to full glory.
“So?” I drop the cloth in the sink. “Do we have a deal?”
He tries to kiss me, but I arch away, knowing damn well I need to set some boundaries if we’re going to participate in extracurricular activities. Kissing was okay when I thought one night was all I’d get or when I thought, just a few moments ago, that this was the last time we’d fuck, but if it’s going to be more regular, kisses are out of the question. I love his mouth too much to risk it.
“We’re supposed to be working out the sexual tension,” I say when he cocks an eyebrow. “Kisses are intimate, and intimate might turn problematic.”
“And sex isn’t intimate?”
“Not the way we just did it.”
He smirks, lifting his hands in defeat. “Fine. Have it your way. No kissing. Anything else?”
“Yes. No interaction outside the bedroom. No more cookies, no helping with babysitting, no helping with shopping. No more questions. Let’s not blur the lines, okay?”
He grinds his teeth, probably not happy about the no-questions part. The whole point of him cornering me out in the hallway was so he could learn about the things I refuse to share. I hope to take my dirty little secret to the grave.
And that’s why I’m imposing the no-questions rule. My crush on Cody is something real, but I know better than to think or hopewecould evolve into something real. There’s too much ugly history, baggage, and hurt that can’t be overlooked outside feral, primal, bedroom lust.
Sex is physical. While it can lead to emotions, if we set iron-clad boundaries, we’ll get what we want from this arrangement without risking too much.
I get to feel in control of my body. Since my traumatic first time, I’ve used sex to erase the feel of the sixty-year-old pervert’s hands on me. I never enjoyed it the way I enjoy it with Cody. His insistence on communication and consent helps tear down the walls my mind built that fateful night.
I worked through the trauma mentally with my therapist, and now, thanks to Cody, I’ll work through it physically so that one day I won’t dread the idea of commitment.
And, obviously, sex with Cody is a fantasy come true. A fantasy I was too embarrassed and scared to dream about since I laid eyes on him my first day of college.
I’m not sure what Cody wants out of our deal. He can have any girl he wants, but right now he wants me, so why the hell not?
“You’re driving a hard bargain,” he says, lifting his hand to toy with my nipple. “But I think a step back is a good idea, so yeah, let’s revert toheys and replace the talking and working through our bullshit with sex.”
I try not to get hung up on the spite in his voice. He’s annoyed he won’t find out who the man he heard over the phone is, where I was tonight, and why I’m not wearing underwear.
“You’re pouting,” I say, dragging my nails along the underside of his stiffening cock. “Want me to work that frustration out of you, baby boy?” I inject enough sarcasm into the endearment to drive my point home.
His teeth gnash between his lips. “You don’t like it when I call youbaby girl?”
I love it. I always cringed when I heard guys call their girls that because, from the observer’s point of view, it’s just so lame, but the desire coating his voice when it’s aimed at me... not lame at all. Nothing sounds lame on Cody’s lips.
But again, pet names fall on the wrong side of the line. “Save it for someone special,” I say, looking down because his cock swells in my palm, the tip leaking precum once more. “I think you’re ready for round two.”
“I think I am,” he agrees, gripping my hips and setting me by the sink, his fingers finding my clit. “Are you sore, B?”
“Not one bit.”
“You’re about to be.” He smiles darkly, guiding himself in. “Tap out if I’m too rough.”
I gasp and cling to his broad shoulders when he slams into me. “Like I said. I can handle a hate-fuck.”
“Good...” he breathes in my ear, bottoming out inside me. “...hate fucks are suddenly my favorite.”
NINETEEN
Cody
THE NEW ARRANGEMENT with Blair works better than I initially anticipated. Not that I was thinking clearly when we made the deal. I’m not thinking clearly now, recalling one morning last week that she spent sprawled over my breakfast bar while I feasted on her pussy, making her squirt three times before we moved to the bedroom for round two.
