Twisted Little Games

by Dee Palmer

  “Get out of my apartment, Sky, before I do something you will regret.” My tone is serious enough, she narrows her eyes before they flash with an idea; never a good thing with Sky.

  “You know Ethan, you don’t have to jack off in the shower. I am more than happy to help you out with that.” Her eyes widen and drift to the stretch in the front of my jeans. She sucks in her bottom lip and I feel my cock twitch at the invitation, because however angry I am at her break-in, I have just witnessed a live porn show and my dick doesn’t give a shit how pissed I am. “We could all go and have some fun in the spare room–” Her voice is thick with lust and filth, and I am so fucking hard. I draw in a deeper breath. The last thing I need is more complications with Sky, even if my balls think otherwise. My voice is low but stern.

  “Leave, Sky…Now!” I stand back as she scrambles for her clothing, which is scattered around the kitchen. The Dick Number Two men is already at the door when she spins with fury and venom in her eyes.

  “You used to be such fun, Ethan; now you’re just another prick!” She roughly pulls her slip of a dress over her head, snatches her sandals and slams the door, but it’s a fire door, so it closes frustratingly slow. I let out an exhausted breath. I’m too tired to be dealing with this shit and now I have a hard-on from hell. Fan-fucking-tastic. I slump down on my sofa and unbuckle my belt, before I pull myself free, I think better of masturbating in the open plan living room when Sky still somehow has access. I don’t want to literally be caught with my dick in my hands. I kick my, jeans, underwear, and shoes off on my way to my bedroom, pulling my T-shirt over my head as I go.

  The door handle seems stiff when I realise its locked. What the fuck! I shake the handle and yell,

  “Open the fucking door!” I no longer contain my rage, not giving whoever has the audacity to lock themselves in my bedroom, time to comply with my demand. I step back and with one fierce kick I boot the door wide open. A sharp shrill scream competes with the sound of the cracking door frame and splintering wood.

  Not what I was expecting. The trembling girl in front of me, her white knuckles fiercely gripping the handle, though her hold is wobbly, is weakly waving my baseball bat at me. I step forward and swipe it from her grasp. She yelps and jumps back against the wall. Her dark blue eyes are wide with terror and I get a sudden pang in my chest that I’m causing her distress. I drop the bat and walk to my closet, all the while keeping my eyes fixed on her. She looks scared shitless, which is understandable. I guess I might look a little scared, if some strange naked guy crashed into my room. But this is my room and I’m not the stranger, she is. But yes, I’m naked and I need to fix that. I pick the first set of shorts I can find and slip them on. I can see her visibly relax and I like having done that.

  “Who are you?” Her voice waivers, but she coughs and straightens her shoulders in a display of faux confidence. It makes me smile which seems to irritate her.

  “My apartment, darling… I get to ask the questions.” My tone is clipped. Yeah, I can be irritated too. I have had way too little sleep and currently have a hard on that won’t go away. Her eyes keep dipping to take in the tent at my crotch, which honestly isn’t helping. “What are you doing in here? Taking a break from the performance?” She is almost naked herself. Her slim, bare legs peek below a skinny T-shirt that looks familiar. It’s mine or at least used to belong to a girl I went to school with. She must have left it here when she visited from University. It has St. Andrews University blazoned across the front, and it’s far too small to fit me. So apart from my clothing, she doesn’t appear to have anything else on; certainly not a bra. Interesting.

  “What?” Her shocked tone piqued with insult, halts my wayward thoughts.

  “Are you taking a break from the show I just broke up?” I speak slowly and I know my patronising tone is causing the fury to flash in her crystal blue eyes. I tip my head toward the other room, to highlight my point and the scene of the crime.

  “Oh absolutely! The locked door is all part of my foreplay!” She crosses her arms tightly around her chest, which just lifts her breasts that little bit higher.

  “It’s effective.” My face fails to hide my amusement. “Rude to point.” I fail again to hold in a laugh, but then I’m not really trying. This is the most fun I have had in a long time. She instantly cups the offending nipples with her hands and flashes bright red.

  “Oh, my God! Sky said you were cool, but you’re actually an arsehole!” Her haughty tone, however, is my breaking point. I stride over to her and grab her elbow. She yelps at my tight grip and I easily drag her from my room. There is practically nothing to her–except delicate, soft skin under my fingertips, masses of unruly, dark chestnut waves, and fierce piercing blue eyes. I open the front door and unceremoniously deposit her outside on the landing in her bare feet. I’m closing the door–

  “Wait!” She screeches. I hold the door and regard her coolly through the gap. “My clothes…all my clothes are in your washing machine.”

  “Why?” I am confused, but she looks like I have just asked the dumbest question.

  “I used you laundry facilities. Sky said I could. I’ll pay for the washing tablet, but I need my clothes. You have them all ….” She bites her words out and I fight back a grin. She is in no position to be snarky with me.

  “Not all your clothes.” I casually glance at the T-shirt she has borrowed from one of my drawers.

  Her eyes dip to where my gaze is focused and she tugs at the material for emphasis. “This is yours…I just used it while mine was washing. Everything I own is in your machine!” She is fighting her frustration. I can see the open hostility in her glare, and the way she is biting her cheek to physically stop herself from speaking. She is just itching to rip my fucking bollocks off.

  “You’re right…that is my T-shirt.” I cup my hand in the universal sign language of ‘hand it over’. The shock on her face is priceless.

  “What? No!” She shouts out indignantly. Couple that with the haughty look and her air of stubborn arrogance, just brings out the best in me. “My T-shirt. You either give it to me, or I will take it from you.” I grin and she takes a step back, then crosses her arms once more. It’s cute, her tiny frame trying to emanate any kind of barrier.

  “You wouldn’t?” Her voice is a whisper and her eyes are wide like saucers–deep blue mesmerising saucers. I step up to her, but don’t say a single word. I silently wait…and wait. Her eyes narrow and she huffs. “You’re an arsehole, you know that?” I wait some more… “Fine!” She steps away, creating enough space to roughly pull the T-shirt from her body before flinging it with some considerable force at my face. Not the first time today I catch the missile aimed at my head, but this time I hold it. She has cupped her breasts. I was right, no bra. My eyes flick down her body and my mouth slides into the smuggest smile I can manage.

  “No…no, please.” Her breathy pleas go straight to my cock, which would be caged in a pair of loose fitted boxer shorts but she is wearing them. Well, she is wearing a pair of them at least. Even with the tight elasticated waist, the oversized underwear hangs deliciously from her slender hips. Her delicate curves are no match for the might of gravity pulling the shorts further down her body exposing even more skin.

  “Oh dear,” I say solemnly, but with no remorse. “Those would be mine as well, I believe hmmm?” I tap my finger lightly on my chin, as if pondering this great conundrum. “What to do? What to do?”

  “Please, Ethan.” My name on her lips sounds…strange…familiar…sexy. I like it and fuck, I could get used to her pleading.

  “I’m nothing, if I’m not a gentleman.” I offer, but just as she steps forward misunderstanding the limits of my chivalry, I push the door closed in her face. I let her keep the pants.

  SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! What a complete fucking arsehole! I can’t believe Sky had raved so much about this guy. I never hid my skepticism, when she told me about their last time together. She had every right to be pissed in my book, so I was s
hocked she really wouldn’t have a bad word to say against him. “That one time was not him, honestly, Ada. Ethan is the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.” She gushed. “He’s so sweet…such a gentleman… you’ll love him. Everybody loves him and oh God, the man has mad skills…He is the hottest guy you’ll ever, well, just ever….” He may well be easy on the eye, but blinkers aren’t necessary to know the man is also a massive prick. I flush with instant heat at my twenty/twenty recall of him bursting through the door. A vision of pure rage and naked glory, broad shoulders, tanned torso with hard sculpted muscles and a massive erection. I am not going to forget that entrance…ever. It is almost a shame he is an arsehole of biblical proportions because I haven’t had a reaction like that since…well since.

  I look around the empty hallway, thankful at least that this floor isn’t shared with any other apartment. The communal area starts on the floor below. I lean over the railing and look for any sign of life in the stairwell. I can’t believe Sky just left me. Fuck! The baggy boxer shorts are seriously close to slipping over my hips, so I pinch my thighs tight together to prevent further mortification. They were fine when I was lying on the bed waiting for the spin cycle to finish, but I am going to lose them if I make the slightest move. I switch one hand to grab the waistband and slip one arm across to cover my top half. I slide down the wall and sit burning holes in Ethan’s front door with my firery stare. Fat lot of good it will do, but I am between said rock and hard place with my options.

  I can wait for Sky to realise I am missing and retrace her steps–which could actually be days– or I can wait for Mr Arseface to leave his apartment and try to appeal to that kind nature, I have been told so much about but have yet to witness first hand. I shuffle on the unforgiving stone floor, hoping I won’t have a long wait. I am supposed to be working the bar at six. I rest my head on my knees, holding my legs in a frame that supports my head so I can close my eyes while not exposing too much of my nakedness. It’s not cold but the stone surface has frozen my bottom to an uncomfortable numbness, which has me seriously debating making my way back to the bar like this. I am sure Buddy would have something I could wear…but getting there. I try and picture a route of invisibility when Ethan’s door cracks open and I look up to see curious blue eyes crinkled with amusement.

  “You’re still here?” He bites his lip at this hilarity.

  “I know… it’s a shocker. What can I say? I had so many more appealing options but…well you captivated me and I couldn’t pull myself away from the chance of another encounter.” He grins at my snarky remark. He flashes a wicked smirk and then shuts the door…again. “Fuck! Smart Ada, very smart.” He not only has my clothes but my bag, which contains all my worldly possessions. My work locker key, my phone, my purse, and my sleeping bag. Next time he opens the door, smile, be contrite…grovel if you have to, just get your stuff back. I can do that…next time he opens the door I’ll be nice…if he opens the door.

  My watch is running slow but I know it’s been at least forty minutes, because I no longer feel numb. I literally can’t feel anything below my waist. The door cracks open once more and again Ethan peeks through the gap. My wayward mind wonders whether he is once again naked and is the reason he is hiding. My thoughts are answered when he pushes the door wide and leans against the frame. Towering, I tilt my head right back to keep eye contact. I venture a smile this time. Be nice, Ada. Be nice.

  “You’re still here.” He repeats with an arched brow and tight lips, trying for impassive but clearly enjoying my predicament. Deep breath, Ada. Be nice.

  “It would appear so.” I flash my sweetest smile, which causes him to narrow his eyes with suspicion. “Look Ethan, I really need my stuff. I have to be at work in less than an hour, and I hate being late…or naked.” I shuffle to my knees and look up. His eyes widen and his smile morphs into something a little darker. I can feel heat burn in my cheeks and I struggle to swallow. What the hell? I shuffle to my feet awkwardly trying to keep myself covered and hold on to a modicum of my dignity. He snickers and I have to fight the urge to scowl. Be nice.

  “Please, can I get my stuff? Two minutes and I’ll be gone. My whole world is literally in that bag and your washing machine.” He doesn’t believe me. I don’t care; I just need my stuff.

  “What’s in it for me?” His eyes move slowly over my body. The speed would be creepy, if it wasn’t for the undiluted desire evident in his gaze. My skin feels alive as his glance skims every inch of my body. Shit.

  “Did you hear me? I said everything I own is in that bag…I have nothing,” I clarify but swallow, when his eyes light up. I can’t help but drag my own gaze up his frame. The same shorts hang low on his trim hips–so many muscles curved and carved. Strong arms fold across his chest. Oh, God, his chest. His brows lift with amusement and he chuckles when I snap my jaw shut. It wasn’t hanging wide open, but still. He is handsome too, on top of that body. No, handsome doesn’t do him justice. He is…no…I’m getting no words that don’t sound wholly inadequate. He has a little rough stubble over smooth skin, but you can see his strong jaw. His eyes are like rich warm chocolate and his thick brow is the same dirty blonde as his long choppy hair, which currently flops in a stylish mess around his face.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” His sensual tone may have my bits tingling for the first time in forever, but his knowing grin and cocky assumption, just makes him an ass as well as a prick. Be nice…be nice. Well, not that nice…just get your stuff.

  “Ethan, I’m sure you’re a really great guy and all…I mean Sky certainly sings your praises, but–”

  “Oh, sweetheart, don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need to barter for sex. Never have, never will.” He chuckles. “But I do need a cleaner.” He pushes the door wide and with a sweeping gesture, waves me inside. Ground swallow me now. I am so fucking rusty at reading signs I need a Google Sat Nav implant. I try to shrug off my misunderstanding and step inside, but it churns painfully in the pit of my stomach and I get the strange deep tingle of upset behind my nose. “I need my clothes washed. You already know how to work the machine and Sky left a mess in the kitchen. Clean that lot and you can get your stuff. I’ll even give you a tip.” He pauses, and waits until I am looking directly at him. “Don’t trust, Sky; she’s a dump and run kind of girl.”

  “Yeah, I know.” My voice sounds small. I am so embarrassed. The way I looked at him, the way my body reacted all hard and pointy. Christ, I might as well have shoved my tits in his face, I was obviously so …obvious.

  “Problem?” He steps closer and I shiver at his nearness. I try to step away, but he just moves with me.

  “No, no, of course not.” I swallow the dry lump. “It’s just, I have to be at work and I don’t have time to do everything–” He interrupts but with a whisper, and he leans in closer to my neck. What the fuck is he playing at?

  “Tomorrow then. Do what you can today and come back tomorrow to finish. I want it all spotless. I will be entertaining in the evening.” He is standing so close, I can feel his heat–or is that me? It’s me, idiot. He has already put me straight on that. I do not need telling twice. “Ah, sweetheart, you look disappointed.” He tips my chin up with his finger and I can feel his warm breath intoxicate me, even as I flush with shame. Am I disappointed? I think I am. It’s been so long since I felt remotely sexual, and with no effort or inclination this guy just has my body all alert and sentient. I hold his silent gaze for long moments before he speaks. His eyes are dark pools. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.” His lips cover mine. Holy fuck! His hand slips from my chin to my neck, his fingers gripping up into my hair. I gasp and he dips his tongue into my mouth with precision. I freeze, acutely aware of how naked I am. My hands grip my breasts and I squeeze my legs together. Not just attempting to stop my shorts from falling, but trying desperately to quell the ache. Oh, God, that feels amazing. Is that noise coming from me? Tiny frustrated whimpers, groans of desperation escape the back of my throat. I feel starved; I am starved. I don
’t remember the last time I felt this need for another body. I do remember, but I choose to forget. Jesus, I want to touch him. I can’t stop myself, he feels so good. But then, everything stops and he slaps me hard across the face.

  He doesn’t use his hand. He just pulls back–as cool as I’m hot–he pulls away. Unaffected and casual, he wipes his soft firm lips with the back of his hand, drawing my taste from his mouth. “Not my type at all…Spotless, okay?” He mutters and circles his finger, indicating the whole apartment. He grabs a towel, slings it over his shoulder, and swaggers to the front door. “What’s your name?”

  I can feel my anger surpassing my embarrassment. My ‘be nice’ mantra disintegrating by the second. “Artemis.” I try not to spit the name. I haven’t said my birth name in three years, but it feels right now. After all, I’m only Artemis to the people I hate.

  “Goddess of the Hunt?” He pauses by the door.

  “Amongst other things.” I try to keep my tone neutral.

  “The stitching on your bag said Ada. If you are a liar and a thief I think–” I snap my interruption.

  “I’m not a fucking thief! I borrowed your fucking clothes, I will clean your fucking flat, and my name is fucking Artemis.” My whole body is now shaking with pent up anger.

  “Hmmm fucking Artemis…I like the sound of that. Maybe you are my type.” He steps through the door. Open mouthed and incredulous, I watch it drift shut.

  “Un-fucking-believable!” I scream out, once the door is firmly shut. Ooo, that felt better. There is a lot to say about first impressions and judging books by their covers. I resolutely stand by my first impression of Ethan Cates, because as gorgeous as his cover is, he is a massive prick. I storm off to a small room along the hall, next to Ethan’s bedroom. I roughly pull his loose shorts down my legs and screw them into the tightest ball, throwing them on the floor. I proceed to very childishly stomp them into the ground with violent, angry feet. Stupid, because I will be the one picking them up and washing them later, but not today. I start to pull my things from the washing machine. They are never going to dry in the thirty minutes I have before I need to leave for work. I separate the essentials I need to dress and escape. The damp clothes cling to my body and chill my skin, but they will soon dry from my body heat. I will have to put the rest in the work dryer and risk Buddy’s wrath. I thought I had all night and after three nights of sleeping on the beach, I was looking forward to a comfy night in a real bed. I was looking forward to a long soak in the bath, once Sky’s “friends” had left, that is. And now I don’t even have time for a shower.