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The Roommate (a slightly steamy romance) 495 words

            “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”  Matt asked, peeking over the monitor of his laptop from his desk.

            “Oh my God, you aren’t my mother,” Shannon stated, putting her lipstick on before blowing herself a kiss in the hallway mirror.

            She had thigh-high stockings on with a little lace at the top, three-inch heels that showed off her fabulous legs, a short skirt showing a peak of promise at what it barely covered, and her shirt…

            “Is that my shirt?” he asked as she undid all but one button and tied it just beneath her perky breasts.  He tried to shift his concentration back to his screen but the shimmer of her gold chain and pendant nestled in her cleavage was more than he could bear.  “Jesus, Matt,” he berated himself, “she’s your frikken roommate.”  Yeah, but one could dream, right?  Two years of dreaming about this woman and the things he could do to her.  Still - they had a code:  no sexual partners at their apartment.  He shifted in his seat to ease the tightening in his jeans.

            “Oh, the shirt - I hope you don’t mind?”

            I wish I was the shirt.  “Nah.”  He tried to concentrate on his work but her amber eyes kept his attention.  She seemed to hesitate but he couldn’t think straight when she licked her lips and bit her lower lip - something she always did when deep in thought.

            “Because,” she started, “I can take it off.”

            His eyes were fixated on her hand splayed across her bare midriff.  “Uh-huh,” he muttered dumbly before he cleared his voice.  “No.  No, it’s fine.  Have fun.”  Shit, not too much fun. 

            He thought he saw her shoulders sag a little before she turned.  Disappointment?  Was he reading the signals right?  Dammit!  When it came to Shannon he would give her the world, but would she ever want a geek like him?

            Just as her hand reached for the door, he called, “Shannon, wait.”

            She hesitated but didn’t turn around.  He came up behind her, his hands on her shoulders, thumb stroking her neck in a long, slow massage.  He felt her gasp - his touch on her skin felt like sweet electricity running through his fingertips.  “Don’t go,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, smelling the lilac and chamomile from her body wash.

            “Then make me come,” she groaned, reaching behind her to feel him throbbing and growing for her.  He lost all control and spun her around, kissing her as deeply as he wanted to be in her.  She kissed back with matching enthusiasm.

            They frantically started pulling at each other’s clothes, the one button on his shirt popped easily exposing her beautiful breasts.  With a groan he lifted her, she easily wrapping her legs around him, and carried her into the bedroom.

            “I’ve been waiting for this for two years,” he whispered.

            “Me too.”

            And they made sweet, frantic love through the night.

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Comment by RM DuChene on March 24, 2014 at 5:55

Well written piece. It's not my usual genre, but I like your writing style.

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