The Corner House: A Reverse Harem

by Daisy Jane

  My thighs pinch around him and he grinds me to orgasm, urgent and hungry, both of us panting and moaning with pleasure. I lift my hips off the bed, my pussy searching for him as soon as he pulls away. I grind and I take, and I take until my body is so tired that I drape an arm across my eyes, breathless.

  “I’m embarrassed that didn’t last longer than five minutes,” I admit, biting my bottom lip, still covering my eyes. Still recovering from the intense dry-humping.

  “That’s hot as shit Sloane,” Eli says, pushing off the bed, open palms pointed towards the massive bulge in his slacks. Not just a massive bulge but a very shiny and wet massive bulge.

  I peek through my fingers playfully. “Okay, that’s embarrassing.”

  Eli sidles up next to me on the bed, sitting over me. “That’s hot, not embarrassing.”

  He runs his hand up the inside of my knee and towards my inner thigh. I tell him it feels good by giving a moan, soft and behind closed lips. Still, he groans, palming his dick through his pants just once.

  “Let me give you relief.” I sit up and reach for him but he stands again, grinning. “Nope, not yet. First, we’re having breakfast. Then we’re going to take a shower and you can show me how the hell I’m supposed to wash your hair.” He points at my tangled mane. “I did a really bad job.”

  I move my fingers around my head, feeling for signs of dried shampoo. “No blob of unrinsed product, you’re good.”

  He shakes his head. “That was scary, Sloane.”

  “That’s never happened before,” I say quickly, “I think it was just, stress overload.”

  He sticks a hand out to me and I stand up slowly, using that hand to steady myself. His arm is rock solid and steady as I teeter towards him, heart racing uncontrollably. I like Eli… a lot. Already.

  “What are you going to do about Brynn?” he asks pulling me into a hug, kissing the top of my head. We were just cuddling horizontally and now we’re doing it vertically. I almost think he can’t keep his hands off of me the way I can’t keep mine off of him.

  “I don’t know.” I answer truthfully, because I haven’t had the chance to think about it yet. And I know until I have coffee and carbs, coherent and logical thoughts aren’t happening.

  “Coffee?” He tips my chin up like he can read my mind. “And a bagel?” Damn, he’s good.

  He pushes out of his slacks and pulls basketball shorts on, smirking as I eat him up as he does.

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling up at him. My pussy throbs when he slides his fingers between mine, pressing our palms together. His hand is so warm.

  We both stop right outside Eli’s door, in the hallway, when we hear a noise of pleasure coming from Bodhi’s room. It sounds like…

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, Carissa, slow down.

  “Sounds like Bodhi’s date went well,” I whisper into Eli’s arm, and he chuckles softly as he guides us down the stairs. Bastian is coming home from work at the same time, having working the last 12 hours. Damn, we slept in.

  He doesn’t acknowledge our linked hands. It’s like he doesn’t even see them actually.

  “Hey,” Eli notices his friend’s distress and breaks our hands to rest one on the top of Bastian’s shoulder, squeezing. He leans next to him. “You okay buddy?”

  Bastian melts into a barstool. The kitchen in this home seems to be the place where all the things happen. And though the look on Bas’s face tells me this isn’t good news, I pray this kitchen isn’t about to see really, really bad news.

  Chapter 27

  I work to start the coffee, all three of us seeming like we very much need it. Eli takes a spot next to Bastian on the bar and keeps his hand on Bas’s shoulder.

  He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t coax or pry. He just sits, holds him and waits.

  The coffee percolates and kitchen smells like morning, despite it being nearly noon already. Shirtless Eli in his basketball shorts makes my belly flip, but the concerned shape of his eyes, the pinch of care in his eyebrows—that makes my heart want to flip a little, too.

  Taking Eli’s cues, I stay silent too. I begin to wonder if Bastian wouldn’t be more comfortable without me there, so I turn to them, mugs in hand. Then Bastian lifts his head and turns, just enough so his eyes meet Eli’s.

  “I stopped Cami last night.”

  I swallow, knowing the impact of that statement. Realizing that this man is so still in love with his ex but doesn’t know how to put the pieces back together after their shared tragedy. Not knowing how to respond, I slide them the mugs.

  Eli drops his hand to the counter and weaves his hands together in front of him, still looking at Bastian.

  “How did that go?” His tone is so gentle that my ovaries start to twist and writhe inside of me. I pour myself a cup of coffee.

  Bastian does his signature hand-through-hair shove and exhales. “I think it went good. I mean, we’re not like, back together but, I don’t know. For the first time in a really fucking long time, I feel hopeful.”

  Eli slaps his palm against Bastian’s back and shakes it a little, a gesture of support. “Good, man, I’m fucking very happy to hear that.”

  Bastian pulls his palms down his face and shakes his head, as if there’s a but. I hope for his sake there is no but.

  “I’m scared if she changes her mind about getting close again…” he swallows, looking down into the mug of coffee. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose her twice.”

  Eli’s there, responding with the exact right words before I can even fully process Bastian’s thoughts.

  “It would be scarier to not try, wouldn’t it?” He sips his coffee. “Can you love anyone that isn’t her?”

  Bastian lets out a small laugh and cocks his head to the side, peering at Eli through one eye. The other is squeezed shut, like he’s pained. “You had to lay it out that way, didn’t you?”

  Eli smiles, sips his coffee again. “I remember you with Cami, Bas.” His lips turn up slow and soft and the moment feels tender.

  Bastian narrows his eyes at Eli after the quiet sentiment. “Don’t think my shit is getting you guys off the hook. I know you came in here holding hands.”

  “Did we?” I ask, smiling nervously. Eli and I became a couple all of one hour ago. We hadn’t yet discussed how we’re addressing the world. He said I’m his girl. I’m his. But what’s that mean to ---

  Eli smirks at me and turns back to Bastian. “She’s my girlfriend now.”

  Bastian rears back in exaggerated shock. “Jesus, how long was I working?”

  We both laugh and then the three of us drink coffee and Bastian fills us in on his night. Even in a small town, there’s always some excitement. Obviously, the highlight of his shift was Cami. I hope for Bastian and Cami both that they can work it out.

  Eli and I scramble eggs and cut veggies, assemble vegan parfaits for Bodhi and Carissa (if they get out of bed) and enjoy attempting to teach Grandma how to play dead. Spoiler alert: he’s not having it. Bastian eats quick, eager to shower and get to bed, and Eli and I find ourselves eager to do the same thing.

  I take another Benadryl, to ease my brain from the pinching residual pain in my neck, knowing there’s no pill for the fog I’ll be feeling.

  Over breakfast, Eli tells me about his plan to go home to see his parents and sister this weekend. Apparently, his younger sister is just twenty-one, going on twenty-two, and engaged to someone her parents don’t love. This is Eli’s first time meeting the guy. The pressure is on.

  “Yeesh, that sounds stressful.” I pop a berry into my mouth and then sip my coffee, already on my second cup.

  “Do you have any siblings, Sloane?” Eli asks, with a tilt to his head.

  “Nope, only child.”

  He nods, drinking his coffee. “Was Brynn just your best friend or was she like a sister too?”

  Blinking against heavy eyelids, I take a big bite of everything bagel. I don’t want to answer because I don’t want to think about this. But I know I can’t
ignore Brynn forever.

  “Did you see your phone on the nightstand this morning?” Eli asks, taking a bite of his blueberry bagel. His jaw works and god how I can’t wait to have that jaw between my thighs. I want him to be working me. I don’t want to be talking about my best friend back-stabbing me and firing me. Not at all.

  I shake my head. “Wasn’t interested in it.”

  “She has sent you a lot of text messages.”

  I resist the urge to ask “who’s side are you on?” though I feel dangerously close to blurting it out. I don’t want to be frustrated with Eli over this. This has nothing to do with him.

  “Hey.” He nudges me. “I saw my speech that you looked at. You left it out here for me last night, right?”

  I completely forgot that his speech had been part of my trap to lure him into conversation. I chuckle to myself, thinking about how that actually panned out.

  “What?” he asks, smiling. God, I love his smile.

  “I just, I was planning on using food and the speech to try and get you to have a sit-down conversation with me.”

  He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hate that you think I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to you.”

  I lean across the table and his lips meet me there. The kiss is warm, welcoming, infused with coffee and toothpaste. He tastes good.

  “I was just scared to be rejected.”

  He snorts. “I can’t think of someone who’d reject you.” He takes a large bite of bagel, chews, swallows, nonchalantly, as if he isn’t saying some of the most romantic stuff to me.

  “That was very sweet of you to say,” I smile at him, popping another few berries in my mouth. Bodhi and Carissa still haven’t come down, and that has to be a good thing.

  “But those corrections. The way you moved lines around and made everything flow. And the suggestions at the end,” he shakes his head. “How’d you get to be so good at that?”

  “Every story has a flow. When you read a lot of books like I do, you begin to recognize what a person is trying to say, right away, and then you just piece together the right flow. It’s kind of hard to explain. I guess it’s like knowing the twists and turns of a rollercoaster.” I scrunch my nose. “Does that make any sense?”

  He leans back and weaves his fingers together, resting them on his belly. I love his wild morning hair. “Not really, but I can tell it makes sense to you.”

  I shrug, taking my last bite of bagel. “Reading pays off, I guess. I was always good at editing speeches and essays in college, too.”

  “Do you like writing?”

  “I do,” I say, honestly, “but I also like editing. It’s really rewarding. You take something so precious to someone, something they’ve written and created, and you strengthen it. You help them make their thing better than ever.” I shrug, knowing that if you don’t get it, then this sounds crazy. “It’s just rewarding.”

  “Would you ever want to get into that?” He rolls his thumbs.

  Leaning forward, I trace the edges of the wood in the table, getting lost in the grain. “What do you mean, like as a hobby?”

  He shakes his head no, and his eyes are soft, non-threatening when I look to him. “As a career. Like, go back to school and pursue it.”

  Tilting my head, I consider it. I did always feel like I missed out on college because I went to beauty school, not a traditional four-year. And now that Brynn had taken my station right out from under me, I didn’t know what I’d do. I’d used most of my savings trying to “make it” when the migraines had taken over.

  Eli leans in, taking my hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over my palms. “I think the chemicals at the salon are triggers for you, Sloane. And I think if you weren’t around them, you’d see a lot of change in your headache frequency. I also think if you went off the birth control pill—or at least changed to something else—that would help too.”

  “You’ve thought about this, huh?”

  He nods. “I have. Because I’ll take care of you. But I want more for you. I want us to get you better. And ever since I learned about your migraines, I’ve read a ton. Talked to my mom about hers, too.”

  “You talked to your mom about… me?”

  He nods, grinning. “I like you Sloane. She can’t wait to meet you.”

  “Shut up.” I shake my head, coolness running up my temples. My body is sweaty and chilled. I think it’s what real shock feels like. Eli did not tell his mom about me.

  “I did.” He sips his coffee and I know he’s grinning because his ears are a little red. “Which reminds me, do you want to come home with me this weekend to see them?”

  “Eli, stop, you don’t mean that. That’s not funny,” I say, pulling my hands away, crossing them over my chest.

  He laughs, and reaches out, fingertips grazing my breasts as he does. It sends a thrill through my nipples, even at the slightest of contact. “I’m not kidding, baby, don’t be mad. I’m serious.” He tugs at my heart, eh, I mean arms. I fold.

  “You’re serious?”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” I lean in and we kiss. I bite my lip and volley my head back and forth.

  Eli leans back, gripping the sides of his chair. “What?” he draws the word out slowly.

  “You take all your girlfriends to meet your parents, right? Like, that’s a vetting system. Mom and Dad don’t like them and you dump them?”

  His head sways back, dissatisfaction apparent on his lips as they turn to a thin line. His eyebrows pinch together. “Are you serious?”

  Wait, he’s mad. Can we rewind? Can I not fuck up the rainbow after the storm? I put my palms up in surrender. “Wait, wait,” I take a breath a start again. “I’m just… surprised.”

  It takes a moment but his face softens and when it does, my body relaxes. “I knew the moment I saw you, Sloane, that’d you’d be my girl.”

  “Yeah? What if I hated whiskey and listened to banjo music and worshipped mermaids or some crazy shit?” I tease him, not letting the playful override the sentiment of what he’s just said. Incredibly romantic. My boyfriend is incredibly swoony.

  He grins. “I love mermaids.”

  I smirk at him and invisible between us are a million butterflies and heat, the chemistry making my skin burn.

  “But you know, you’d be a great editor.”

  I shake my head. “That was just your speech. I read it like, fifty times, too.”

  “Because you’re good at editing.”

  “Because you wrote it. I just wanted to absorb it.”

  A faint pinkness takes up his cheeks. “Seriously, Sloane, think about it. Those chemicals, they’re so bad for you. Not everyone reacts that way but you do. I hate seeing you sick.” He leans forward and stacks my plate on his. Before he rises, he kisses my cheek. “Think about it. Toss the idea to your mom, see what she thinks. Run it by one of the girls.”

  He paces to the sink and rinses the plates, swiping with a soapy sponge, and rinses again. I love the way his forearms flex while he works. They’re so thick.

  “I will,” I respond, still eyeing his forearms as they dip into sudsy water.

  Damn, Captain America looks good doing dishes.

  Chapter 28

  “Thank you so much for seeing me,” Abbie sighs, red rimming her eyes. Mine probably look the same.

  Though Eli and I had finally talked and things with us were fucking hot and heavy, still, that didn’t take away from the fact that Brynn had given my position up and fired me. She’d taken my career. Because she knew as well as I did that a stranger wouldn’t rent me a station and be so understandable about my last-minute absences due to my migraines. Yet still, she let them tell her how to run her business. She turned her back on her best friend.

  Brynn had been calling a lot the first few days, then just texts. I hadn’t read any of them and I hadn’t listened to any of her voicemails either. There was nothing she could say to me right now that would lessen the pain.

  I knew what was
really bothering me.

  Because here’s the thing. I understand that business is business. I understand that a station is income. And if you put someone at a station that brings in less than half of everyone else? It’s risky. I know that. And she does too.

  Why couldn’t she just sit down with me and talk to me about it? Why did it have to be delivered after the fact?

  Still, those weren’t the things really eating at me.

  The job was the very last thing I still had. At the time she told me, the job was it. It was my last thing that migraines and sickness hadn’t taken and she took it, without a warning or talk or anything.

  And the fact that migraines had taken everything sent a worry through me that was so real, I lashed out. I couldn’t just hope they got better. I knew, inside, if I lost my job, I’d have to take action. Try actively getting better instead of using Band-Aids and crutches like injections and over-the-counter’s.

  I wasn’t ready to face it. I didn’t know how to face it. And I didn’t want to face it alone.

  Now, though, I had Eli. He took away the panic that existed dormant inside me, waiting to come alive at first feeling of pain or jolt of anxiety. He soothed and protected, making me feel like everything really was going to be okay.

  And in the last two months, I’d learned that he was right. Since being with him, things were finally starting to get better.

  I’d applied for some student loans and enrolled in some courses at the local community college, focusing on a transfer degree so I could study journalism at the University nearby. Eli’s mom Brenda, who volunteered at a nursing home three times a week, got me a job cutting hair in the salon inside the home. Three times a week she’d pick me up, we’d go there together, chatting and snacking the entire drive there and back. It was perfect. And within the first few weeks of not being around the chemicals at Salon Six, I went migraine free. I had a flare up one a particularly warm and bloomy day when Eli and I went for a run. After carrying me back and giving me my meds, I haven’t had another migraine since. It’s hard to know if it’s the chemicals from the salon, if it’s the new birth control I’d switched to, or if it was just my mental state. But I was getting better. Eli had me working out with him and my body and mind felt stronger, and I was no longer living in the what-if.