Just Down the Hall

by Alessandra Thomas

  “No hundred. Just eight. Half will be women, so that leaves my chances at about one in fifteen hundred. If my application is good enough. Just have to keep my eyes on the prize, you know? It’s stupid, but I’ve had a checklist of things I need to do in order to become an astronaut since I was eight. Still have the original. Every time I check one thing off…I don’t know. It keeps me going.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “Wow,” I said, feeling a sense of awe settle over me at the realization that Jordan’s odds of actually traveling to space were nearly impossible, and that he was dead set on that goal anyway. “You are amazing.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could even put a check on the breathy voice that accompanied them.

  Jordan hummed, shaking his head, as he settled back into his seat. He’d finished two beers but hadn’t had anything to drink since then, half an hour ago.

  “Really, besides a decent career,” I continued, my tongue just a little loose and my head a tiny bit spinny with the wine, “I just want someone to come home to, I think. You can’t come home to some rando that a few thousand giggling Philly women picked for you when they were bored online.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Jordan said, that gorgeous bright smile stretching across his face again. “I mean…oh, God, that came out wrong…I wasn’t trying to say…um, that is—I’m happy to cook dinner sometimes and keep you company. I’m not bringing up anything… more.”

  Maybe it was how soft the floor lamp lighting was in the dimming apartment, or maybe it was my happy belly and slightly tipsy head. But he was so cute right now, looking all warm and happy and rumpled. And… was he blushing? At this point, I was just trying hard not to crack up at how flustered he was. “You know what, Jordan?” I said, standing up to grab the plates and walk them into the kitchen. It was harder to stand up from the super-cushy couch than I would have thought, and I pitched toward the plates, tripping over my own feet.

  “Whoa there, Lizzie P!” Jordan chuckled, catching me around the waist and guiding me back down to the couch. To his side of the couch. Our legs touched from knee to hip, his fingers trailed across my lower back as he loosened his grip on me, and his breath blew, warm and earthy-smelling, against my cheek. Our eyes met, and my breath caught. “What were you going to tell me, before you got up?”

  My voice was distinctively breathier than it had been just seconds ago. “Oh. Um. Just…the good things is that at least I don’t have to have sex with them. The guys I’m dating for work. I mean, just based on the setup of the whole thing, there won’t be any expectations, you know? It wouldn’t be fair to the other guys over the six months, and they all know what they signed up for, so…”

  Jordan’s left eyebrow arched up. “I guess that’s something, but… you make it sound like a chore, or something.”

  “What? Sex?” The alcohol must have settled comfortably into my blood stream, because usually, when I talked about sex, I automatically lowered my voice. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, exactly, but sex talk felt like one of those deep, private aspects of someone’s life not appropriate for casual discussion. For some reason, though, the words came out bold and challenging this time. Maybe…a little flirty? “I mean, okay, not to insult your entire gender, but… Jordan, come on.” I forced a short chuckle. “It’s not like my idea of a party.”

  “I honestly don’t get it,” he said, and the deepening furrow in his brow told me he was genuinely confused.

  “Well, you know,” I said, waving my heavier-than-normal feeling arm in the air at nothing. “It’s like this: Kiss, tongue, grab, grope, squeeze boobs, maybe give a little blow job, pull down panties, get in position, in, out, in, out, ohhh I’m gonna commmmme, stop, extract, roll over, go to sleep.”

  Jordan’s mouth dropped open slightly, then closed again as he turned fully toward me. “I’m sorry. Are you saying that’s what all sex is like? Just, like, robotic and…boring?”

  I let out a little laugh and nodded like he was an idiot, until I realized that his shock had turned to disbelief. “I mean,” I mumbled, “I’ve only done it with four guys. One in high school, a couple boyfriends here at UPenn, and then a one-night stand. But, yeah. That’s pretty much the experience, at least on my end.”

  “No,” Jordan said, rubbing a hand at the back of his ear and scooting back, away from me, putting distance between us. Oh, God. What had I said?

  Chapter 5

  Jordan

  “No fucking way.” I honestly couldn’t believe my ears. Was this beautiful, cheerful girl seriously telling me that she’d basically been used as a sex toy for every single guy she’d ever slept with? Okay, that sounded crude, but seriously - what kind of an asshole doesn’t at least stop to consider whether his girl is having a good time?

  “Did I say something wrong?” Lizzie’s eyes darted around the room, probably looking for an excuse to extract herself from this awkward conversation. Jesus, now I’d really fucked it up.

  “No, no,” I said, reaching out to grab her hand, half to keep her sitting there and half to let her know that I wasn’t upset with her at all. I smoothed my thumb over the back of her hand, and I could swear I felt a little sighing gust of air rush past her lips. “No, I’m just saying - okay, I’m no expert. I’m not saying that.” I shook my head, thanking everything holy that the dark tan hue of my skin rarely showed a blush. “It’s just that, every time I’ve been, you know, with someone, half the fun has come from making sure she enjoys herself. You know?”

  She scoffed, looking everywhere but at me. “Well, you know. It’s not like I had a horrible time, I just—”

  “Would rather have been watching TV?”

  Liz looked down at where my thumb rubbed over her hand, bumping over her delicate wrist bone on every pass. “Maybe,” she said. She pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth, and I had to bite back a groan. How did girls do these impossibly sexy things without even trying to?

  Or maybe she was trying. Suddenly, every single pornographic scene I’d imagined during last night’s shower flooded my brain again, and every bit of blood rushed downward. Just feeling the soft skin of Lizzie’s hip when I’d reached out to keep her from falling had gotten me half-hard, but now my cock was getting damn uncomfortable the more it strained against the zipper of my jeans. I peered down to look into Lizzie’s eyes, and she looked up at me with wide doe-eyes. That look could have meant nothing, but maybe, just maybe, it meant an open door.

  What the hell? Might as well go for it.

  “How many of these guys you dated took the time to make sure you came before they did, Lizzie?”

  She shrugged and looked up, eyes heavy-lidded and staring steadily into mine. Her soft smile was laced with curiosity, maybe a little playfulness. “None of them. That’s unfortunately always been up to me. And I don’t know if I ever have, you know—,during.”

  I shook my head back and forth slowly, squeezing her hand. “That’s… well that’s just a damn shame.”

  Lizzie arched an eyebrow, managed another barely-there shrug. Her body said she’d accepted the sad fact that no guy had ever had the pleasure of having her come undone around his fingers, that none of them had run their tongues over her sweet heat and sucked her clit until she screamed. But her eyes were still wide. Wondering. Challenging. “Guess there’s nothing to be done about it now,” she said softly, her voice rasping on the last word. “Not for a while, at least.” She licked her lips and, somehow, I managed to speak.

  “I could do something about it,” I said, leaning forward just enough so that her shuddering breath brushed my cheek, just enough that she could probably sense my frantic heartbeat and twitching fingers.

  Then, so fast I barely realized what was happening, her mouth tipped up to mine, her lips latching on like they’d been molded to fit there. Warmth flooded me and I groaned as I pushed my fingers back through her hair. After just a second or two, though, she pulled away, chest heaving, eyes wide with trepidation. “God, I’m sor
ry, Jordan.”

  I ran my palm up the outside of her thigh, desperate to keep her close to me, dying to touch her again. She might be pulling back, but I refused to mirror it. “For what? That was…”

  “…amazing, I know. And if we keep going, I won’t want to stop, and the last thing I want is for things to get weird. For so many reasons.”

  “Roommates,” I nodded, keeping the unfortunate distance between us at a minimum.

  “And Kiera. And work. God,” she groaned, and I couldn’t help thinking of her making the same noise while her body writhed under me. “I’m supposed to be professionally dating and reporting on it for the next four months and I can’t have…”

  I decided to be brave. If she was teetering on the edge of doing this, I wanted to give her stronger footing. She was right - this was a big decision, and I didn’t want her to regret it one bit. I reached out and let my fingers graze the line of her jaw, tipping her face up to look at me. “You have to know I would never, ever hurt you. Never take advantage of you. Never make you do something you don’t want to do.”

  She nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact, but not speaking, either. So, I took a deep breath and continued, “The only people that need to be involved in whatever happens between you and me are you,” I leaned in, kissing the corner of her mouth, “…and me.” I pulled back, leaving significantly less space between us than there had been before. Her breath ghosted out over my lips. “It doesn’t have to be anything but a night with someone you know. Someone you trust.”

  “I want to,” Lizzie whispered, her breaths growing heavier, faster.

  I leaned down, pressing my forehead to hers, smiling before brushing our lips together and threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “Then do,” I managed before she closed the distance between us once again and kissed me, licking her way into my mouth almost immediately.

  God, she really was thirsty. And I was going to give her exactly what she needed.

  My hand slid easily up to her waist, and I dug my fingers in. This was one of the things I loved most about girls - the smooth, delicate feel of the clothes they wore, and how they gave way to soft, hot curves underneath. I had her blouse tugged out of her skirt within seconds, and she arched her back, pushing her chest ever closer to me in response.

  Her kisses were firm and eager, each one carefully aimed for maximum contact as she cupped my jaw with her delicate fingers and guided my mouth to tip one way, then another, against hers.

  My palms continued their path north until my thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, dimly registering the lacy cotton that held them perfectly in place. There was no padding or pushing up here - her curves were one hundred percent, genuine Lizzie. I swiped my thumb up over her right breast. We both groaned when it rasped against her nipple, which already stood at attention, hard as a little pebble.

  "Christ, Lizzie," I managed. "I want to see you."

  She nodded, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth in what I was now one hundred percent sure was her demure lust-filled goddess signature move. "Bedroom?" She definitely wasn't a shy girl, but I still didn't expect the wicked flash in her eyes when she smiled at me.

  I grinned in response and jumped to my feet in a second. In the next breath I bent down, slid one arm under her shoulder blades and another in the bends of her knees, and swept her up in a cradle hold.

  She stretched out her neck and started mouthing at mine like she'd been wandering though the desert and had finally found an oasis in my skin.

  My legs couldn't get us to my room fast enough, even though the rock-hardness of my dick was now making any kind of movement at all damn near impossible. I'd bought new high thread count, stone-gray sheets and a duvet set in a deeper steel color the day after I found out I'd gotten into UPenn. I'd done a lot of growing up in my five years at Stanford, for sure, but I'd never owned a stitch of adult bedding.

  I honestly never thought I’d break it in this soon. Liz's grin up at me as I dropped her onto the mattress was pure sunshine, and I couldn't get my hands back on her body quickly enough. It was too bad she had entirely too many clothes on. "I want to see you," I repeated, my words thick with lust this time.

  "The feeling is mutual," she said, all open confidence, before pushing herself up on her elbows and hooking her hands into the front of my jeans. "Shirt. Off."

  "Yes ma'am," I said, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt and starting to tug it up. Then I paused. "But only if you'll let me help you with yours."

  I hadn't slept with that many girls - a dozen or so - but I'd quickly learned that one of my favorite parts of this whole process was getting her shirt off. My theory was that girls tended to be a lot more confident about their top half than their bottom half. They knew their collarbones were beautiful, and they knew their breasts were generally a fan favorite of guys. They spread lotion over their shoulders and breastbones, they wore gorgeous underthings to perfectly cradle and frame their chests. They wanted guys to appreciate that part of their bodies, to take their time, to drink them in and admire and enjoy.

  I'd never been more eager to do exactly that than I was in this moment.

  Lizzie nodded with another of those impossibly sexy lip bites, and my shirt was off and tossed to the side in seconds. Then I planted a knee on either side of her waist, settled my weight over her, and got to work.

  Chapter 6

  Liz

  Jordan's fingers were careful, gentle, and determined all at the same time. I was wearing a blouse with at least ten delicate little buttons holding it together, obscuring all but a tiny bit of my cleavage. Most guys would have been frustrated, struggled with the freaking thing so much that they tore it, and then made me do it myself. He's an engineer, I giddily reminded myself as he deftly flicked each little mother-of-pearl button from its fastener. I shivered at every brush of his fingers against my body, marveling how sensitive the skin just under my collarbone and at the swell of my breast was to his touch. Finally, he reached the very last button on my top. When his thumb dipped into my navel in what had to be a deliberate move, I felt a sudden swell between my thighs, followed by a rush of slickness.

  Unconsciously, I pushed my shoulders back into the bedding - the very soft, very grown-up bedding, I'd noticed. The movement caused my chest to rise up and my torso to dip, stretching my abs and basically laying out my body for Jordan like dinner on a silver platter.

  Yeah, I'd noticed how unexpectedly hot he was when he'd walked into my life - into our apartment - just twenty-four hours ago. But if anyone had told me yesterday that I'd want him this badly, I wouldn't have believed it.

  Now, though, as he ran his fingers down the opening of my blouse, skin hot through my camisole, I would have done just about anything for more of Jordan Jacobs touching more of me. The warm mocha tone of his skin only looked better when the lean sinews of his biceps and abs were uncovered and bathed in the dim light from our hallway, and I reached out to run my hands from his lightly defined pecs down over his stomach. I didn't bother to stop my fingers when they ran into the light spray of hair that only got thicker as it disappeared into his jeans.

  The very same jeans that teased me with a view of that little muscle that framed a guy's hips. They had to come off. Now.

  I whimpered as I tugged on the waistband, but he slid his fingers under my palms and gently removed them. "Patience," he murmured as he lowered himself over me, pressing a long, soft kiss to my lips. "We have all night. Right?"

  I swept my tongue over his bottom lip before I answered him, desperate to taste more and more of him. "Yeah, but..."

  "Let me do what no other guy has bothered to do for you, okay? Let me take care of you. Let me show you what it can be like."

  My heart swelled with such unexpected warmth then, but it was quickly replaced by burning lust when he skimmed my camisole up my torso and over my head, letting it fall in a soft heap on the floor. I pulled him back to me for another long, hard kiss. Within seconds, it turned heated
, his tongue sweeping my mouth before he pulled away, lightly tugging my bottom lip between his teeth. I sighed and let my cheek fall against his cool pillowcase. "That’s good," I murmured, squeezing my thighs together to try to dull some of the insistent - and surprising - need gathering there. His tongue danced along the curve just behind my ear, following the hot veins of my neck down, down, down, until he locked his lips around the end of my collarbone and sucked there, ending with a nip of his teeth and one more swipe of his tongue to soothe the little hurt there.

  A satisfied moan rumbled deep in my throat, and I swore he smirked before running his finger along my bra strap while kissing even further down, hovering tantalizingly over the swell of my breast. Millimeter by agonizing millimeter, he edged the strap down so that my shoulder was bare, then gazed at it with a soft, satisfied smile. "Absolutely gorgeous," he said, the low, reverent tone in his voice taking my breath away. I squirmed, trying to reach my hands around to undo the bra completely, growling in frustration.

  "Liz," he said in that deep, smooth voice, "Let me. Remember?" He slid back up, gliding his arms under me and lapping at the edges of my mouth like he was parched for more.

  While his tongue dipped languidly between my lips, his fingers wriggled under my back and deftly snapped open my bra.

  "Where did you learn how to do that?" I asked, surprised at how soft and low my voice was, like I was subconsciously changing to match him.

  "I went to college for five years?" he answered with a chuckle. "Besides, I'm an engineer. I know how to make complicated machinery with lots of parts work exactly the way I want it to." His fingers brushed smooth lines over my ribs and under the wire of my bra, lifting it away and dropping it to the floor like he was performing some kind of holy act.

  Now, every girl on the planet knows how her boobs look best, and my particular rack was not flattered much by lying down. So I pushed up on my elbows, forcing Jordan to sit up completely. His eyes danced as he watched me, then maneuvered to sitting on his heels, clutched at my waist, and pulled me to him so my thighs were wrapped around his hips. He stretched his neck up to kiss me again, and I moaned into his mouth. Somehow, with one of his thumbs digging in just under my hip bone and another reaching up to tease at my nipple, I felt more powerful than I had ever imagined I could in the bedroom.