Bitch, I Love You - Sex Stories

Bitch, I Love You

... either side by thin strips of grass. You could almost call it a neighborhood. Davin didn't own it, of course. He rented it with another wrestler I didn't know. Still, I was impressed. I couldn't justify the cost of living off campus. And even if I did, it would be in some mega-dump apartment above a takeout restaurant with three other roommates.

I decided not to play it cool. Largely because, after maybe outing myself as a creepy stalker chick, I wasn't sure the option was still available. "Is your roommate home?"

"How'd you know I have a roommate?" Davin asked. Fuck! The nice thing about the hoe life was supposed to be that you didn't have to be clandestine. But apparently I was so out of practice that even the tiniest bit of subtlety was too much for me.

"You rent the entire place by yourself?"

Davin laughed. "No. You're right. I have a roommate. And yeah, he's out for at least two hours. Do you want to come in?"

"I do." I really did. Not just to plant some seeds for Heather and mything, but also because I was genuinely digging the relaxed way Davin was letting me give it up. He wasn't playing it cool—or if he was, he was doing a really good job of it, because he seemed eager asking me inside—yet at the same time, he wasn't all over me.

Davin and his roommate didn't keep their house clean. But as college living went, it was in the upper percentiles, especially for a guy's place. The first room he pointed out to me was the bathroom. "I'll meet you in my ...

... room," he said, when I excused myself to use it.

Some girls get the ick when they're in a guy's bathroom, checking themselves in the mirror, and realizing they're just the next one in a long line of girls parading through the exact same way. I never got that. In fact, I found it almost comforting. Like there was a quiet sisterhood there. We probably saw each other on campus daily and never even knew. Plus, statistically, I could be pretty sure I wasn't gonna be murdered. Since he hadn't murdered the previous girls. As far as I knew.

Davin was sitting on his bed when I judged myself presentable enough to join him. He looked up from his phone, then set it aside on his dresser.

"So-" he started to say something, and also to stand up.

I stymied both with a hand on his chest. My fingers pressed against the firm yield of muscle. For a second, all I wanted was for Davin to take me. I wanted him to grab me and throw me on the bed and tear off my clothes while I giggled and uselessly fought him. If I kissed him, maybe I would get that. But maybe, instead, he would lower me gently to his sheets, kissing down my exposed navel before taking me in sweet and gentle disappointment. Heather was right. He couldn't be trusted to read my mind.

So, I didn't kiss Davin. Well, not on the lips. I sucked his neck and nibbled his ears, while trying to Bundle up his shirt enough that I could pull it over his head.

His ear lobes were lumpy. Which caught me off guard. Later I'd learn it ...