“What do you want, sweet cheeks? Need to meet your bitching quota before midnight?" he asks, his voice quiet, making him sound tired. That's when I notice his hand is on his cock that's protruding from his unzipped jeans. "Right now I’m thinking of a much better use for your smart mouth. Wanna guess what that is?"
“You’re a pig.” I say the words without thinking after I’m caught off guard by him finding me snooping on him, oh, and because of his unfortunate sexiness. The suggestion of sucking his dick actually makes my mouth water, and I have to pry my eyes away from his thick shaft. “So, what? You couldn’t find a slut to fuck you tonight so you had to do it yourself?”
“Nope. But maybe I’ll bring one home tomorrow and we could all three do that,” he says, raising a dark eyebrow suggestively and gesturing with his thumb behind him to the threesome on TV.
“In your dreams,” I scoff before spinning on my heel to go back to my room.
“Night, Addy,” he calls out behind me, answering that question. The way he says my shortened name actually sounds sort of sweet, unlike his usually rude slurs. That really shouldn’t have me grinning like a silly teenager when I crawl back in bed.
Chapter Six
Jake
Pulling into my driveway and seeing her car now causes my aching muscles to tense, ratcheting up my anxiety. Damn it, I shouldn't dread walking into my own fucking house! After a long day of having my body worked to death I want to go in, pass out in my chair with the remote in one hand and a beer in the other. Without hearing a woman bitch and complain. Is that too much to ask? Why do men ever agree to get married if this is what it's like? Maybe because married men occasionally get fucked, while I get nothing. Nada. A swollen cock and blue aching balls or a mess in my hand is what I get. Like last night when Addy caught me jerking off. Instead of running away screaming and repulsed, she'd just stood there and stared like she'd never seen a cock before. Or porn. And her hard nipples were more obvious than a flood light shining in my eyes. She was turned on. Seeing her standing before me, after making myself come imagining her on her knees sucking my dick, I wanted nothing more than to tear her tiny ass pajama shorts and tank top off and pull her onto my lap to ride the fuck out of me. Never gonna happen.
Fuck.
I force myself out of my driver’s seat and drag my tired ass inside. The first thing I notice when I walk through the door is the house stereo is on, playing Red Hot Chili Peppers, which I approve of. The second is the smell. It's...nice, like the warm, cinnamon scent of an apple pie cooking in the oven. Pies like my mom used to make. I cautiously take a few mores steps, hating myself for letting a woman make me nervous and putting me on edge like this.
Then I see that the living room is...spotless. No trash, no crumbs. The floor even has lines in it like it's been vacuumed. What the fuck is going on? I feel like I'm walking into a booby trap. Ha! Booby!
Speaking of boobs, there's still no sign of my stacked roommate. She's not in the kitchen and sadly there's no pie in the oven. Must be one of those damn air fresheners, which is a huge disappointment to my grumbling stomach. I start cautiously down the hall since the light from the bathroom is on and the door is open. I turn the corner, and...holy fuck.
Addison is on her hands and knees cleaning the bathtub in cutoff, frayed jean shorts, her incredible ass cheeks exposed as she stretches forward and scrubs, making her entire body shake. I can hear her humming along to “Dani California” blasting through the speakers, and the whole scene is so hot I don't want to interrupt. No, I want to video record it to have forever. And she's making my house clean, like really fucking clean! It hasn't looked this nice since the day I moved in.
She starts scrubbing in a swift back and forth motion and I barely stifle a groan thinking she'd look exactly the same if I was kneeling behind her, shoving my cock in and out of her pussy while fisting her long, raven hair in my hand to keep her ass right where I want her. Suddenly she sits back on her heels and her head whips around to the doorway where I've been gawking. Her whiskey-colored eyes are wide as her lips part in surprise. I'd love to force that smart mouth open even wider and shove my cock inside of it. Oh hell. I struggle for something to say, a bastard remark that won't give away my arousal.
"Your ass and the house are looking nice, sweet cheeks. What's with the June Cleaver routine?" I ask.
"You live like a disgusting pig. If I'm going to put up with you for six weeks I want to at least live somewhere clean."
"Yeah well, get your ass up and get ready. We're going out to dinner," I tell her, making a spur of the moment decision. I need to get my hands on that incredible ass, and according to her, there's only one way to do it.