Something So Perfect (Something So 2)

“See something you like?” he asks, throwing the covers off of him so I can see him. I curse the gods for making black boxers.

I shrug my shoulders. “Nope,” I huff, pulling the covers on top of me to my neck, fluffing the pillow, “nothing at all.” I close my eyes, trying to find slumber. Instead, I feel a hard body against my back—not just the body but a hard dick. A dick I would like to be very familiar with.

“You can pretend all you want, babe, but I bet if I slid my hand down into your shorts I’d find your pussy wet for me.”

Assface, that’s what he is. Two can play this game. “You probably would. I’ve just finished masturbating before coming to bed.” I smile while I feel his body go tense.

“You didn’t?” he asks.

“You’ll never know either. Goodnight.” I turn back around and close my eyes, his groan making me smile to myself right before I fall asleep.

The next day we wake up to the sound of his alarm at nine. “Turn it off,” I mumble while I turn to face him, coming face to face with his chest that I spent the night dreaming about.

He turns the alarm off or presses snooze, I’m not sure because he turns back to face me, pulling me close to him. I snuggle into him, falling asleep again, only to be woken up to his alarm, again.

“Get out.” I push him back. One eye opens, watching him get out of bed. He’s in the same state as he was last night. Alert and saluting. “Go rub one off before practice or you’ll be really uptight.”

“You thinking about my cock?” He smiles, cupping himself.

“Not as much as my pink vibrator in the bathroom. Hey”—I lean up on my elbow—“can you close the door on the way out? You know, just in case.” I smile at him.

“I’m going to find that plastic dick and I’m going to melt it,” he says, walking to the bathroom.

“How do you know it’s plastic? It could be glass. Or it could be a replica of my ex’s.” I want to continue, but I think his head is going to explode. He turns, storming out of the room, slamming the door. Leaving me to giggle to myself. I pick up my phone, texting Vivienne.

Coffee?

Bien sur. Meet you there, same place, oui?

We always meet at the French coffee shop by my house. It’s almost like home according to Vivienne.

À bientôt. I reply I will see you later in French. I get up, going to the bathroom and then downstairs where I find Matthew sitting in the kitchen eating what looks like cereal and fruit with yogurt. He’s already dressed in his workout clothes. I walk over to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup, adding milk to it.

He lifts his gaze from his bowl with a scowl on his face.

“What’s up, buttercup? Did you not drain the snake?” I smile in my cup while he glares at me. “Are you one of those that can’t”—I make a fist in front of me, thrusting—“you know, finish things?” I laugh at him. “It’s okay if that’s what you suffer from.”

He drops his spoon into the bowl and gets up, carrying the bowl with him. He places it in the sink softly then turns around, coming straight to me. “It’s a good thing I have to leave and Phil is picking me up, because I’d show you exactly how I finish.” He leans in, whispering, “All fucking day and night I’d show you till you beg me to stop.”

I stand here mouth open. I got served.

“Bye, babe.” He kisses my lips before walking out to Phil, who has just honked.

“Assface, jerkoff.” I slam my cup down on the counter, and then wipe down the mess I made. “It’s all his fault. Comes into my life”—I rinse his plate—“bossing me around”—I swing the dishwasher open, yanking the drawer out, placing the cups from breakfast in there—“sleeping in my bed.” I slam the door back closed. “Who does he think he is?” I put away the box of cereal he left out. “I’ll tell you who he thinks he is, the boss of me.” I slam the cupboard closed. “He isn’t the boss of me.” I storm upstairs, fixing the bed. “Doesn’t even make the bed.” I throw the pillows to the end of the bed and then continue fixing it. I pick up his pillow, bringing it to my nose, smelling him. “Ugh and he smells good. Piss off,” I tell the pillow, throwing it on the bed. Then like a lightbulb in my head I run to my closet, taking my pink rabbit vibrator out. “I’ll show you fucking all day and night.” I put the vibrator under the covers on his side. “Take that,” I tell the covers.