Page 168 of Worthy

“Of course.”

He stands up and leads me to where the washer and dryer are tucked away. I gather and throw my clothes in, making sure to secretly sniff his detergent before adding it. It smells like him. God, I am going to smell like him now.

I’m going to have issues when my door is closed at night. I’m going to turn over in my sheets, press my nose against the fabric, and rub one out.

I feel nervous and excited and naughty just thinking about it. The things I will do to that bed in the middle of the night.

“You ready?” Dean asks behind me, and I turn, knocking my head on the side of the door.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss, and he’s right there, his hands on my face, tilting my chin up and sliding his fingers through my hair.

“Where does it hurt?” he asks.

My dick. That’s where it hurts, Dean.

But I just roll my lips between my teeth and whimper.

“Let’s get you some ice,” he says, his breath skirting across my forehead, and I just go limp. I need smelling salts if I’m gonna live here and he’s gonna be touching me.

He catches me in those thick arms and his eyebrows meet.

“Fuck, did you hit your head that hard? Are you dizzy?”

Nope, Dean. Just high on you.

“I’m fine. I don’t need ice. I’m an adult, not a toddler.”

His rough fingers scrape gently across my skin and my eyes roll back in my head. But then he slowly pulls away.

“Alright then, if you’re sure. I should head out,” he says, his voice a little lower, and I swallow roughly. Oh my god, I was just leaning into him and his hands were all over me.

For fuck’s sake. I’m definitely hallucinating. I need to get some sleep tonight and wake up in my right mind, or else living with Dean is going to be the death of me.

Chapter two

Avery

Dean leaves to go back to work shortly after giving me a sexual awakening, insisting that I stay and settle in.

I settled right in on his bed and rolled around a little like the creep I am. Then I rubbed one out while holding one of his shirts against my face, inhaling him. I may have even groaned his name as I came. Not sure. I passed out for a bit.

My new roommate would be absolutely horrified if he knew what I was doing while he was at work, I’m sure. Because Dean is not gay. Not at all.

But I am. I am so fucking into dudes and dicks…and Dean.

“Avery?” the man of my dreams calls out, and I feel my cheeks flush because I feel guilty and horny all over again. I should have behaved with some decorum—definitely should not have rolled around on his bed like a heathen. What if he smells my cum in there? What if he finds out what I did?

He’d probably…well, I don’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t end with him inviting me into bed with him.

That would never happen.

If he found out, he’d probably throw me right out. Just like my parents did. Just like my roommates did. It’s what I’ve come to expect, honestly.

“In here,” I say from the kitchen. I’ve already organized my stuff in the guest room—it didn’t take me long at all—and then moved on to the kitchen cabinets. They were abhorrent and unorganized. Men, I swear.

Now I’m making dinner.

I have to make myself useful now that I’m living here for the time being, and maybe, sort of sell the fact that I would make an excellent lover. Or husband.

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