Page 55 of Habits

I gulp down hard.

Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in so much trouble?

Andrew

I watch her gulp down, her throat bobbing with the effort as I stalk closer to her. Gray eyes widen as she stares at me nearing, my tongue darting out to wet my lips in anticipation.

“Any special need for you to wear this?” My finger traces the collar of her sweatshirt.

“You know there is, jackass.”

Soft chuckle leaves my lips and I pull the hem down to reveal one big bruise on her neck surrounded by a few smaller ones.

There is no girl out there who’d ever dare to talk to me like that. They’re all overly polite and indulging, ready to do whatever it takes to gain my attention and please me in any and every way possible just to keep me for a few minutes longer. Not that it ever worked out for any of them, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

Jeanette is their complete opposite. She sees me for the jerk I am and isn’t afraid to call me out on it or slap my hand if I cross a line. That in itself is refreshing and arousing.

Dick, jackass, douchebag, jerk, asshole … she can call me all that and more, and I’d laugh in her face just to see her get pissed off. Every time she gives me her stubborn pout, I want to lean down and kiss the irritation off her face. Every time she crosses her arms over her chest, pushing those perky tits closer, I want to run my hands over her body and pull her into me. Every time she tilts her head in annoyance, making her hair sway, I want to lean in and burrow my head into the hollow of her neck and mark her.

It turns me the fuck on.

Everything she does.

Everything she says.

Everything she is.

It’s a fucking turn-on.

A madness.

A madness I don’t want to escape.

A madness I’ll spiral into with my eyes closed if it means she’ll be there waiting for me.

A habit.

She’s become another one of my bad, bad habits, and I don’t want to give it up.

I don’t want to give her up.

“Such a shame,” I whisper as I lean forward, my breath touching her skin and making her shiver. “Such a shame you have to hide them.”

I run my hands up and down her sides, caressing her.

“You’re a Neanderthal, Andrew.”

Jeanette shoves me away, but there is no real force behind her push. I’d know; it still rings in my ear from the last time she slapped me. This time she doesn’t want me to leave her alone.

Another soft chuckle leaves my lips as I brush my nose up and down the side of her neck. “Yet, you still like me.”

“Like you?” She shudders under my arms, her fingers circling around the loops in my pants. Pushing away only to pull back closer, that’s our constant. “I can’tstandyou. You’re arrogant, petty and down-right mean. A daddy’s boy who thinks the world revolves around you. The biggest manwhore this state has seen in the last fifty or so years. You’re a cynic dick most of the time. Oh and did I mention a manwhore? How could I forget that?!”

She rolls her eyes at me, sobering up, and takes a couple of steps back, only to bump into the counter.

“You saw me with that girl downstairs.” I nod my head in acknowledgment, I figured as much.

Taking a step forward, I look at her intently.

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