Page 9 of Screens Apart

“Hmmm,” I said, pretending to consider. “We wouldn’t both get under the water. You might get cold.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to think of something to keep warm.”

“You’re terrible.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean I’m not serious. I’m definitely not satisfied with just one round.” He slid closer to me, hands coming up to cup my face, drawing me into a deep, soft kiss. “You’re fucking incredible, and I need you again.”

“So are you,” I murmured, my hands wrapping around his waist to draw him closer to me. I loved the way he fit into my arms. Taylor was smaller than me, but it was already clear who held the power between us. “What is this then?” I added, asking the question that had been playing on my mind.

“Very good sex?” Taylor asked. “I mean, I’m not interested in dating anyone right now, and I’m guessing you’re not either, so why don’t we just have some fun? You’re incredibly hot and everything that I want in bed, so let’s just keep fucking until one of us wants to stop.”

I swallowed and nodded, my heart sinking faster than theTitanic. “Okay,” I said. “Sounds good to me. I’m not looking for a boyfriend anyway.”

It was a lie, but somehow it still slid off my tongue.

I wondered how long I could keep my feelings in check, how long it would be before Taylor realised how hard I was crushing on him. Because surely no-strings, amazing sex with him was better than nothing at all? It would be better for me just to bury my feelings for him as deep as I could and hope they didn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

“Good,” Taylor said, kissing me again. I felt his cock starting to harden against my thigh, and I groaned as he slid his fingers across my chest, teasing my nipples. “Because I have so many plans for you.”

Part Two: Lace

Taylor

I was starting to wonder whether the prison sentence I’d get for murdering my Managing Director was worth the emotional uplift I’d get for stabbing him repeatedly with a pencil.

A blunt pencil.

It was a goddamn blessing I was allowed to leave early on a Friday afternoon, because otherwise, Ethan’s chances of making it to the weekend were looking very fucking slim.

When I’d taken my job at the tutoring firm, I’d thought it would be interesting, maybe even rewarding. But now I was rapidly considering a career change into London’s newest serial killer. At least I’d look better than most of the men I saw on the disgusting documentaries my housemates watched in the name of entertainment. Maybe I could even convince Simon to give me some tips on how to get away with bloody murder.

At the thought of Simon, my cock twitched in my dark-grey suit trousers and a little shiver ran across my skin.

I’d been hooking up with my gorgeous housemate for nearly three weeks, and every time I thought of him my dick reminded meexactlywhat it thought about Simon. I was like Pavlov’s dog, except instead of food, I was being conditioned to react to thoughts of the most perfect ass I’d ever seen.

Simon was nearly every single one of my wet dreams come to life, and I still couldn’t believe he was interested in letting me fuck him.

A memory from two-nights ago floated to the surface of my thoughts—Simon stretched out on my bed, hands above his head where I’d told him to put them while I edged him mercilessly until he was a begging, whining mess before I’d fucked him so hard he’d come untouched, crying my name. Simon was so much fun to tease and easily the most responsive partner I’d ever had in bed. Every time we fucked, I didn’t think it could get better. And yet somehow it did.

My cock twitched again, starting to strain against my boxers, and I winced because the middle of the District line was not the place to get a boner.

I casually slid my messenger bag over my crotch, trying to think unsexy thoughts, but all I could think about was whether I could punish Simon for giving me an erection on the Tube.

I imagined spreading him out on my bed and spanking his thick, round ass until it was a beautiful shade of red and then jacking off until I covered his skin in ribbons of cum.

Fuck, that was a beautiful idea. I wondered if he’d let me take a picture of it afterwards if I promised not to share it with anyone and to keep his face out of it. Simon was quite shy about his body, no matter how many times I told him how sexy he was, and I got the feeling he wouldn’t really be up for taking dirty photos.

I just wished he could see how gorgeous he was.

The Tube doors dinged as we pulled into the station, and I stepped onto the platform, thankful my week was over. My watch said it was only five thirty, and I wondered if Simon would be home yet. I knew he usually finished at four thirty, and on most Fridays, he skipped the gym. Plus, I already knew our other housemate, Steve, was spending the weekend at his girlfriend’s because her housemates were both away until Sunday.

I’d smiled when Steve had told me, partly because it meant I could tempt Simon into trying all sorts of delicious things with me all weekend. There were so many fun things we could do if we didn’t have to be quiet or worry about other people or have a short time limit. It also meant I wouldn’t have to listen to Steve and Olivia having sex, especially because Olivia was rather loud and squeaky.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a couple boxes of condoms on my way home, enjoying the look on the cute checkout boy’s face as he asked me if there was anything else I needed. On a whim, I bought a lottery ticket as well, because it would be the cherry on top of this weekend if I didn’t have to go to work on Monday and could tell Ethan exactly where to shove it.

Maybe if I won, I could convince Simon to come on holiday with me. I could whisk us off somewhere sunny and exotic where we could swim naked in the sea and spend hours fucking on a huge bed with crisp, white sheets.

I shook my head. That was a stupid idea.

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