Page 55 of Collision
“So this is basically…your personal harem?” I ask, disgusted.
“Something like that. My roommate is a real pain-in-the-ass nerd. He doesn’t like having women in the dorm because they agitate him or some other bullshit. Last time, he just stood in front of the door to my room until Sarah and Denise left.” He shakes the ash from his cigarette and adds, “Right at the best part too.”
“You were having sex with two women while your roommate was standing right outside your door?”
He nods, as though that were the most normal thing in the world.
“You’re disgusting, you know that?”
He gives me an accusatory look. “And you’re a hypocrite.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“You say I’m disgusting for fucking two girls with my roommate outside the door. But last night, you let me fuck you with an entire frat party downstairs.”
I am frozen for a few seconds, staring at him and unsuccessfully trying to find a reasonable retort. “That’s…not the same thing,” I say simply. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.” I rub my temples, trying to chase away the negative thoughts.
“Knock it off with all the recriminations, you’re getting annoying,” he hisses impatiently.
“Easy for you to say. You must have been in this situation a million times, but for me this is new territory! It’s not easy for me to wake up in a stranger’s room and discover that I’ve had sex with him merely hours after ending things with my boyfriend,” I exclaim. “Ex-boyfriend,” I add, correcting myself.
Thomas frowns at me and puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. When he releases the last plume of smoke into the air, I scrunch my nose at the harsh, pungent smell. “Whatever. If you’re just going to keep busting my balls, I’m going to take a shower.”
I get up, slip on the underwear I found on the chair, and tie my hair up into a tousled bun. “I’d like to take one myself, if you don’t mind.”
He frowns, before giving me one of his irritating little smiles. “You angling for an invitation?”
“What?” I look at him confused. It takes me a moment to understand.
“No! I-I meant alone. I need to shower, alone.”
Thomas slips out of bed in all his nude, sculpted-marble glory. “Relax, stranger, you’re too nervous,” he says, trying to hide a smile. As he heads for the bathroom, the muscles in his backside contract with every step and I gasp at the mere thought of having touched, kissed and, yes, scratched every part of that body. His shoulders, his hips and even his buttocks are marked with small pink scrapes.
“W-what do I do for clothes?” I ask, dashing after him. He turns around and I almost crash into his chest. I feel his naked member brush against my belly, but I force myself not to show any embarrassment. Although judging by the cheeky smile he is suppressing, I think he is already aware of it.
“You can find something in the top drawer.” He points to a dark wooden dresser upon which rests the latest generation of television. I hear the shower running as I open the first drawer. Suddenly, I am faced with a cavalcade of bras and panties.
“What the hell is this?” I scream, disgusted.
“Clothes left behind by girls I’ve fucked,” he answers from under the shower. I imagine him laughing smugly.
I slam the drawer closed with a disdainful sneer before heading for the bathroom.
“You must have completely lost your mind, if you really think that I am going to wear any of these…garments!” I yell at the fogged-up door of the shower. Thomas stops the water, steps out of the shower,and, for the second time within five minutes, proudly shows me his entire naked body. He seems to derive some kind of sick pleasure from making me uncomfortable.
Asshole.
I should turn away, cover my eyes, or tell him to cover himself, but I don’t do any of that. I just stand there staring at him, dumbfounded, with my cheeks blazing like some stupid schoolgirl.
Fortunately, Thomas decides to put me out of my misery and wraps a towel around his waist. Then he runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, and approaches me. I back away until my back hits the wall, stuck between it and him. He takes my face in his hands and caresses my lower lip with his thumb. “I knew you weren’t going to wear them,” he whispers, just a few inches from my face. He tilts my cheek and presses his mouth to the base of my neck. “I just really wanted to see your pissed-off kitten reaction,” he breathes against my skin, before lapping a portion of it with his tongue and finally biting down, making me quiver beneath him.
“T-Thomas…” I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut.
With one hand he begins stroking my thigh, then moves up over my belly, until he reaches my breast. He covers it with his palm and I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you look with my shirt on, your hair pulled up like this and your eyes all clouded with pleasure?” he says in a low voice, wedging me more firmly between him and the wall and squeezing my breasts tightly until my nipples stiffen in his hands. A soft moan escapes me, which I try to stifle by biting my lip. “I could take you right here, against this wall, couldn’t I? Give you a good reason never to wear anything else…”
My breathing becomes shorter, almost labored, and a familiar feeling of warmth spreads between my thighs. It seems that, after last night, my body has developed some sort of erotic Pavlovian response to Thomas. And now, every time he gets near me, brushes against me or touches me, every fiber of my being vibrates with pure desire for him. With his other hand, he grabs my butt and squeezes it vigorously,lifting me a few inches and wringing another moan of excitement out of me. He bites my earlobe, and the muscles of my abdomen contract, turning me frozen and docile. Is it possible that he is attracted to me enough to make me his again?
