Page 81 of Tapped By My Roommate
“Feels good, huh?” Rhett said, nuzzling the back of my neck. He continued to pump his hips.
The act was incredibly intimate. Rhett wasn’t inside me, but I could easily imagine it. As he moved against me, hips smacking my ass and his cock tunneling thorough the tight grasp of my thighs to tap my balls, I could almostfeelit. My hole clenched, and a weird craving to be filled hit me. I’d never had that urge before, but Rhett’s strong body was making me want new things.
His tightened his grip and slid his fist up and down my length, sending pleasure flooding me. “Damn, Rhett. This is…”
“Good, I hope?”
“So good,” I said emphatically. Cradled by his body, held tight with his hot gusts of breath hitting my neck, I never wanted it to end. “I didn’t know—I’ve never tried…”
He bit down on the join between my shoulder and neck, and I cried out in surprise, pleasure flaring bright and consuming. Rhett’s hips moved faster, and so did his fist. We were speeding toward climax.
“Close now,” he muttered.
“Me too.”
“Come with me,” he urged, sounding more intense than I’d ever heard him. Rhett was so at ease with sex. He’d described it asfunmore than once. But this was something else, something urgent. “Ethan, fuck—”
He broke off with a guttural sound, half groan, half shout, and I felt his cock pulse between my thighs, then the hot wash of his cum. Oh, fuck. I bucked my hips forward, fucking his fist. My orgasm hit on the second stroke forward. I shuddered as I spurted in Rhett’s hand.
I lost track of time as pleasure crashed over me in powerful waves. When I blinked back to awareness, Rhett was still holding me. He’d released my cock, but his was still between my thighs, soft and sated now.
“You still with me?” Rhett asked in a teasing voice.
“Yeah,” I croaked. My voice was wrecked, as if I’d spent the night screaming at a concert. My face heated. I hoped I hadn’t sounded like a wounded animal. “Sorry if I was loud.”
He chuckled. “We were both loud, and that’s how it should be. You don’t need to hold anything in. I like making you moan.”
At least he couldn’t see my face. It made it easier to answer honestly. “I like it when you make me moan.”
“Win-win,” he said lightly. “I’ll grab something to clean us up.”
He rolled out of the bed, and as my brain came back online, the anxiety hit. What now? Rhett had mentioned there were a lot of things we hadn’t tried sexually. And damn, tonight was proof of his words. But we hadn’t talked about what came after the sex. Did I go back to my room?
My throat tightened. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t think I could stand it after how close we’d been just minutes ago.
When Rhett returned, I panicked. Snapping my eyes shut, I pretended to be asleep.
“I’ve got a warm cloth here—” Rhett broke off, noticing my closed eyes. I tried to breathe slowly and steadily so as not to give myself away. “Well, looks like the orgasm worked to put you to sleep,” he murmured.
Gently, he scrubbed between my thighs. I felt exposed, letting him clean me up, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t done for him the night he’d fallen asleep in my bed. He padded away, presumably to dispose of the washcloth, then settled in bed beside me.
I felt as if I were vibrating, my skin crackling with the urge to reconnect with him. Rhett shifted around, plumping his pillow, and I remained hyperaware of his every movement. Until finally, finally, he pressed up behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist.
“I don’t know if you want to cuddle,” he whispered, “but I need to hold you.”
My heart thudded. Did he know I was really awake?
He kissed the spot under my ear. “Sweet dreams.”
How could my dreams be anything else when held in his arms? I let sleep take me with a smile on my face.
22
RHETT
When I woke, Ethan was curled into me, head on my shoulder—exactly as he’d been the last time we’d shared a bed. My gut clenched at the memory. That morning, everything had gone wrong. I’d seen that checklist and felt…dismissed. Like a chore. Done and dusted.
After last night, I didn’t think that was true. Maybe I’d known for a while, deep down, that Ethan just hadn’t been ready to tell me how he felt. And could I blame him? I hadn’t volunteered my feelings either. I’d been too afraid of putting him in an awkward position, of making him feel he had to choose me or risk another living situation.
