Page 27 of Veiled in Brick

Checking my alarm clock that was on my bedside table, it was five minutes on the dot when the front door creaked open yet again. There was the unmistakable sound of a deadbolt locking after the door was closed, and James’ booming voice followed:

“You hung up on me!”

“Thought I’d see you soon enough,” I called out to him.

Presumably, he followed the sound of my voice into my bedroom. I remained in the same comfortable position when James poked his head into my room. His appearance was unlike I had seen before—his usual brown boots were traded for loafers, jeans replaced with khaki slacks. I followed my gaze up his loose, navy button-down shirt to find his eyes bespectacled. The frames sat high on the bridge of his nose; perfectly circular lenses enclosed in a silver metal that enhanced the grey of his eyes. He smiled his typical crooked smile, tucking his hair behind his left ear.

“Comfortable?” he inquired, taking in my relaxed appearance.

I flexed my ankles enough to point my toes straight toward him and sighed.

“I am,” I replied. “You look very different than I’m used to seeing you.”

“Oh.” James splayed his hands outwards, looking down at himself and then back to me. “Yeah, I, uh—this is how I dress for work?” He tugged on the cufflink of his shirt that constrained his wrist. “Have to cover the tattoos.”

“And the glasses?”

“Ha,” he laughed out a singular, weak syllable, and gently grasped the stems on either side of his face. He removed them, looking at them in his palm as if he had forgotten he was wearing them. “I have night blindness, er—astigmatism. Really only wear them when I drive at night. Or when I’m at a computer, y’know—screen time.”

I unwove my fingers behind my head, pushed myself up into a sitting position, and swung my legs to dangle off the side of my bed. I waved at him with a smile.

“Hey there.”

He made his way to me leisurely, setting his glasses down on my nightside table before taking my head in his hands and kissing me deeply. His beard scratched against my face as he opened his mouth to mine, biting my lower lip softly. I hummed appreciatively, and he pulled away.

“Hi,” he told me, teeth glinting out in a wide grin. “I like your room.”

“It’s the duvet, isn’t it?” I responded wryly.

He laughed quietly, peeking downwards. “White eyelet lace? Nice.”

I shrugged. “I try.”

His fingers gripped my neck a little tighter, and he pulled me to him once more. Our tongues touched, entwining as he ushered me backward with the gentle pressure of his body against mine, and our familiarity allowed us to move together like water. We undressed, exploring each other’s bodies with a newfound appreciation for the open space around us. I traced the markings on his arms that were akin to a paintbrush across a blank canvas, James nipped at the curves of my breasts, and when we were ready, our motions shifted from a blissful fluidity to a fight for control.

He inevitably won, asking me in a filthy tone if I remembered what his cock felt like as he drove into me. The bedframe rattled, the sound along with our collective shouts of pleasure an erotic symphony that only spurred both of us on further. We came loudly, gritty pleas and collective shouting reverberating the walls, and he held me as I rolled through the waves.

I had intended to see him off—really, I did—but the buzzing contentment that rolled through me was too much, and it wasn’t long before I had drifted off to sleep.

I woke after several long, uninterrupted hours face down, naked, and buried under the covers. Sunlight was already peeking in through my window, and as I stretched my arms overhead, one of my hands made unexpected contact with something that was neither my several voluptuous pillows nor the remainder of my bedding. I patted at the intrusion curiously, the gears in my mind still cranking oh-so-slowly from my blissful awakening, until a deep, amused voice spoke to me.

“You sleep like the dead, you know.”

It was then that I realized that the intrusion I was curiously poking at was a body. A hard, large, warm, muscular body. And at that realization, I was alarmingly awake. I sat upright so quickly that my head spun, and I snapped my gaze to a very curious James. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me, his head tipping to the side to question me.

I continued to stare at him, my heart racing from the shock of the situation. He was resting his back against my headboard, shirtless. My comforter lay over his lap to disguise whatever other clothing he may or may not have been wearing, and though the sight before me was, without a doubt, delicious, the implication was not, for I’d truthfully thought that he would leave after I had drifted off. I blinked, words failing to come to me until he spoke again.

“Zoey?”

I blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

“Uh—I came over last night?” James replied, his brow pinching together in confusion. “We—”

“Yeah, we fucked, I know,” I told him quickly, blinking hard at not only the situation, but my dry eyes. They scratched as I did so, my contacts from the night prior that I hadn’t removed wreaking havoc on me. “Why are you still here?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you sleep here?” I pressed.

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