Darren, one month earlier
“We really shouldn’t be doing this.”
Yet, as usual, I was pressed up against my bedroom door and my ex was kissing my neck.
Xavier was annoyingly good at foreplay. Which was, among other reasons, why we kept ending up in bed.
“I don’t care,” he reminded me. “And your boner tells me you don’t care, either.”
I knew—vaguely, in some rational part of my brain—that I always felt like shit after we slept together. But that part of my brain was packed away with the last of my bedding and picture frames.
If I looked over Xavier’s shoulder, my life was contained in neat cardboard boxes. I should have felt sad, or angry, or… I didn’t know, something.
Bittersweet? I could lay claim to that, but it was an apathetic kind of feeling. Not relief, like a sneeze you’d been waiting for all day, but the kind so far overdue that you’d already filed it away in your mind.
“You don’t have to go,” Xavier murmured, his hand curled around my shaft through my jeans.
It was hard not to remember how well he sucked my cock, too. After all, we’d fucked more often since breaking up than we had in the last few months of our supposed relationship.
There was a unique appeal to the forbidden—or at least sensibly discouraged. I’d never been good at denying myself pleasure.
“Fuck the rules,” Xavier whispered into my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. However often he exploited my weakness, it never grew less effective. My knees and resolve weakened.
“One last time?” I murmured, my palms flat on the door at my sides. If he’d ever been much of a top, I might feel like prey. As it was, he was coaxing me into indiscretion.
“Cross my heart.”
“Again? You said that last week.” I pressed a hand on his chest, trying to figure out if I was about to dig my nails in or push him away.
I knew which option my dick wanted, but he didn’t get a vote here. In the brain-body working relationship, my body had won every argument since the breakup.
It was time to ignore Downstairs Darren and use my brain.
“That was before I remembered how good your dick feels in my mouth,” Xavier whispered.
Fuck, he was really fucking great at this. Heat crawled along my spine, and I knew I was blushing. I was rock-hard now, my toes curling into my bedroom floor.
The floor where he’d fucked me like a boring straight porn star just a couple weeks ago, the day I told him I was moving out.
God, thinking about that didn’t improve my tight pants situation.
“What do you say?” Xavier whispered, his hand slipping into my pants. When I didn’t answer, he added, “The magic word will do.”
“No,” I moaned, which made him pause and look at me in just as much surprise as I felt right now.
Apparently I was capable of using my brain sometimes. Huh. First time for everything.
And last time for something—letting him talk me into great sex that left me crying into a bottle of wine later.
“No,” I repeated gently, a sense of finality rushing through me.
There it was: the relief I’d been waiting for. The breath of fresh air.
Xavier took a step back, his expression crestfallen. For a moment, I felt bad for causing that.
No, dumbass, I told myself. His happiness is his problem. I can’t give myself up to make him happy.
“So we’re… done-done?”
“Yeah, babe.” I ran my hands down my face and then took hold of his hips to gently steer him away from my door.
When I opened it, Xavier huffed but accepted defeat. He looked around at my boxes and half heartedly offered, “Need some help?”
“Nah. Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
I had a plan to move these last few boxes one trip at a time. Moving in Brooklyn was a real pain in the ass. I hadn’t done it in ages, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to again for a while.
No more dating roommates.
Xavier, about to be my ex-roommate as well as ex-boyfriend, took a shaky breath and walked out. It sounded like he was heading straight to his room.
It had been our room at first, but after we broke up, our last roommate got sick of hearing us fuck out our differences and moved out, so I’d taken the spare bedroom.
Definitely no more romance for me for a while. Safer for everyone that way.
I wasn’t gonna fuck up anyone else’s life.