Eastern Lights (Compass 2)

Breasts, breasts, breasts.

Dammit, Red, why did you have to look like that? So Perfect? So curvy, so smooth, so damn desirable.

All I wanted to do was walk over to her and let my hands wander—which were probably thoughts I shouldn’t have been holding for a new roommate. Especially seeing how I was her new unofficially-official life coach. My thoughts weren’t really morally correct to have about my new client, but at the end of the day, I was just a man. A man with an extremely hardened dick sitting in my office the morning after finding Aaliyah exposed.

I listened to her music playing in her bedroom that morning, and I wondered if she were dancing again. Naked. With those breasts exposed.

I leaned back a bit in my office chair and closed my eyes, clearing my throat. My mind began thinking about her moving to the music, her hips swaying back and forth, her body moving in the most mystical way.

Her lips. Her collarbone. Her nipples. Her lips—different set of lips that time.

All I wanted to do was move with her, dance close with my body pressed up against her skin. Unfortunately, all I had was my hand and my cock to create some kind of pleasure. I slid my sweatpants down, and gripped my cock into my hands as I began stroking it up and down, thinking of Red, of her body, her curves, her.

Fuck, I wanted to taste her. I bet she tasted like the greatest high.

I repositioned myself in my chair, leaning back more as the strokes became more intense. I gripped myself harder, imagining it being Aaliyah’s mouth moving up and down my cock, taking me all in as I pinched her nipples between my fingers. I’d pull her on top of me next, having her sit on my face, letting me taste her, suck her, fuck her hard until she came all over my face. I’d lick up all of her delicious juices as she—

“Connor, I’m ordering in some—oh my gosh!” Aaliyah screamed, forcing me to open my eyes as I was seconds away from an exploding orgasm hitting me and—oh fuck, nope. Couldn’t stop that train from going, because it already left the damn tracks.

“Fuck!” I shot up from my chair and turned my back to Aaliyah. I hurried over to the corner of my office as I unloaded all of my dirty thoughts into my trash bin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moaned. Yup. That was right, friends. I was moaning as I got off into a trash bin because even with my embarrassment, an orgasm was an orgasm, and shit, it felt good. Afterward, though, shame was all that was left.

I felt like a kid that got caught with a Playboy Magazine. Aaliyah somehow was both the Playboy Magazine and the individual who’d caught me with it.

I turned around to express my extreme humiliation and apologies for her walking in on what she walked in on, but when I looked behind me, the door was closed and she was on the other side of it. Thinking back on it, I should’ve probably shut the door before I started yanking my cock, but you know what they said, an idiot was always going to be an idiot.

“I’m sorry! I saw your door was open and well, I was going to ask you if you wanted me to order you some breakfast,” Aaliyah exclaimed from outside the door.

“Right, yeah, no big deal. Sorry about that.”

There was a silence for a moment.

I felt like a complete moron.

A dirty, filthy moron.

Then, Aaliyah’s voice came back.

“So…” She paused for a moment. “Do you want scrambled eggs? I would offer you some sausage, but I think you’re all set with that.”

I snickered to myself, feeling my humiliation began to fade. She could’ve allowed the situation to be uncomfortable, and odd, but instead, she went with humor.

Damn.

I really liked that girl.

30

Aaliyah

The first few weeks of living with Connor were so easy—even with our embarrassing moments. If anything, those experiences made us more relaxed and comfortable around one another. After he saw me dancing naked, and I saw him, well…fully awake, we’d crossed out most of the awkward parts of having a roommate.

Check and check.

If I were honest with myself, which I was trying to be more and more each day, I’d say I wondered what he was envisioning as he sat back in his office chair, stroking his hands up and down.

Yup, both hands.

He needed both for his massive Captain America. His Incredible Hulk. His Iron Man. Thor’s hammer. I bet he could knock a woman right out of Asgard with that thing.

Swing that hammer, Connor, swing.

After the unfortunate interactions—well, maybe unfortunate for him, but I didn’t mind my view—we created rules where doors should’ve been closed during a person’s, um, intimate moments. And if a door was closed, there was a no entrance policy in place.