Forbidden Roommate: Her Dad's Best Friend Series Set

by Penny Wylder

  But maybe, just maybe, I can get some kind of satisfaction by starting to put some effort into my personal life. Or who am I kidding? Not my personal life. My sex life. I’m horny. I’ll admit it. I watch enough porn to know when I need some.

  I grab my phone and search for the Hearts First app. It has a lot of positive reviews even though I’ve never heard of it. That’s good at least. It lets me know that it’s not just a niche thing that a few people are trying to use and everyone else is ignoring. And after it’s downloaded, I’m impressed by the sleek and modern interface it has.

  The questions are pretty simple: the basics about your appearance, though no pictures are required, your likes and interests, and what you're looking for in a match. Fairly open ended. From the looks of it, you can be as in-depth or sparse as you want to be.

  But there’s also a section for more…intimate details. Kinks you want to share, and turn-ons. That’s interesting.

  Overall, without the anonymity aspect, it looks like a regular dating app. Granted, I haven't spent a whole lot of time with those in the last few years, but I figure they can't have changed that much.

  As I start to fill out the information about myself, I find myself once again thinking about Bryce.

  I have to have some way to get him out of my system. And while the idea of going on dates is exciting, it's also exhausting. Elle is right. I need to get laid, and I need to do it quickly.

  Sure, I could go to a bar and see what I could pick up there. But some friendly chit-chat over a beer and a hit or miss possibility isn’t what I need right now. I need up-front, honesty, and a night between the sheets with someone who knows what they’re there for. So this seems like the safer bet.

  So instead of filling out this survey in a way that indicates that I'm looking for love, I'm brutally honest about what I want: Someone for the night, someone older, and preferably somebody with an accent.

  I'm well aware that I'm looking for a Bryce clone, and that I will not find him, but a girl can still try. Who knows. Even if I don't get what I'm precisely looking for, maybe I'll get some good sex out of the deal.

  Hi there, you can call me K.

  I am brand-new to the app, and I don't know exactly how I feel about being here.

  What I do know is that I need a distraction. I need to escape my life even if it's only for the night, and I really need to have sex.

  That might not be what's normal here, and I know that this is supposed to be about intellect first, but I'm hoping to be an exception. At least until I get this off my mind.

  I'm twenty-five years old, and I'm looking for an older man. I really love men with accents, preferably European. I don't feel like going into why, but that's what I'm looking for.

  If this is you, and you're interested in having a little fun, feel free to message me. Otherwise we can still chat and get to know each other, but I make no promises.

  I don't know whether Elle would be proud of me or want to kill me. All I know is that it feels good to be honest.

  I might be better off going to one of the apps that has a reputation for hook-ups, but I’m a bookstore girl. I thrive on personal recommendations, and if Elle feels comfortable using this app, then I’m sure it will be good for me too. Besides, intelligent people want to get laid too, right?

  The kinks section of the profile is blank. I have things I like to watch, but even though I love porn, I wouldn’t exactly say that I have a variety of sexual experience. There are a lot of things I want to try. I’m not sure I’d call them kinks. But since I’m trying to get someone to have sex with me, maybe here’s an opportunity to thin the herd. I write down a few things, control fantasies, animalistic sex, and marathon orgasms, and using my extensive library of sex toys. If anything, maybe it’ll get someone to laugh. Even better if it gets them to be actually interested.

  After filling out everything else to the best of my ability—what I like, what I don't like, a few hobbies, and a summary of my appearance—I send it out into the world.

  As much as I would like to dream, I refuse to get my hopes up that it will actually happen. One anonymous profile is no different from the next. And if those people really are only looking for intelligent connection, then they are going to skip my profile immediately.

  My distraction having been satisfied, I go back to my work. And it’s done the trick. My focus is sharp again, and it’s a huge fucking relief. Even just taking this small step has helped.

  I almost roll my eyes. I should've known that it would. I've always been someone who’s preferred action over languishing.

  Picking up the rhythm that I lost earlier, things start going quickly. Elle brings me books from the boxes outside and I enter them into the system. Our computer system isn't the fanciest, but it gets the job done.

  A little perspective helps everything. I was complaining about how late it is, but it's barely six o'clock. We close early on Mondays in order to have extra time to prepare for the Tuesday rush. All in all, things aren't as bad as they seemed.

  I swear it’s only been ten minutes when my phone chimes. In reality it’s been closer to forty, but I’m still confused, because that’s not a sound I’ve ever heard my phone make before. It’s not my text or ring sound. When I pick it up and the screen tells me that I have a new message from Hearts First, I nearly drop the damn thing.

  Swiping open the app, it takes me to a message from a user named VonRedwood. The picture is blank—of course—and the message is short and to the point.

  I believe I fit the bill. I’m forty-nine, was raised in Oxford, England, and I’m in town for the evening. I’d be more than happy to be your companion for the night.

  Marathon orgasms? Does that mean twenty-six? Sounds like the low end, to be honest.

  My stomach swirls with a weird anticipation and arousal. Forty-nine. British. Willing to fuck me. This isn’t really happening, right? I’m imagining twenty-six orgasms in a row, and my temperature rises. God, what would that even feel like? At my horniest, I only think that I’ve ever given myself three in one session. Holy shit, I’d end up screaming in a puddle on the floor after twenty-six.

  I click on his profile, and it’s sparse. Basic details. Six-foot-two. Dark hair. Really nothing else. I guess, like he just did, he prefers to be the one to reach out. I don’t mind. I like people who are proactive.

  Nerves tingle across my skin. What do I even say? I wanted this, but I don’t really know how to do this. But I suppose here goes nothing.

  Forty-nine and British, you say? Tell me more.

  Little text bubbles jump at the bottom of the screen. Holy shit he’s typing.

  Born and raised in Oxford. I was there until college, when I moved to the states to start a business.

  More typing.

  But I’m more interested in why a younger woman like you would be so desperate for a sexual encounter. Surely with the confidence to admit that you want sex, and wild sex at that, you have no shortage of suitors.

  His syntax is British. I can tell. In general, unless someone is making a really concerted effort, we default to the way we were raised to speak.

  I have a busy life. I type. Romance hasn’t been a priority for me, no matter my desire for it. And even now, I don’t really have the time. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and I need it.

  I hesitate before I type the next bit.

  And I’m trying to get someone out of my head. You fit the bill.

  More typing.

  I’m fine with that. I’m intrigued by your mention of toys. Do you have many? Would you like them to be used on you?

  God. Heat rolls through me. It’s not even that what he said was explicit. It clearly wasn’t. But the idea of doing this is…intoxicating. I do have a lot of toys, and never once have they been used by anyone but me. The thought of having someone else use them on me draws wetness and anticipation from my body.

  Yes. Fuck, yes.

  One more question. He types. Do you really like
older men? Or is your goal to forget this person the only reason you’re looking for that?

  I think about it. I’ve wanted Bryce for as long as I can remember. He was the man that triggered my…I don’t know…sexual awakening. He was all I could see, and all I wanted. But even when I was actively trying to get away from that, I was attracted to men older than I was. Everyone my age seemed too immature, too green, to be what I wanted.

  No, it’s what I want. I say. It’s what I’ve always wanted.

  Good. He says. Then if you’re willing, I will spend the night with you. I’m going to peel the clothes off you until you’re naked and ravish you until you’re screaming. Twenty-six orgasms will just be the starting point.

  I’ll make sure you get what you need. With my tongue. With my fingers. With my cock. When I’m finished you, no memory will bother you anymore.

  I have to put the phone down for a second, because I want that. For the last couple years, I haven’t allowed myself to think about it. Sure, I’ve got all the toys, and the porn, and I masturbate every day. But it’s not the same as someone learning you. Wringing pleasure from you whether or not you want them to.

  Taking a deep breath, I pick the phone up again when it buzzes.

  On a less sexual note, I’ve been tested recently, and am perfectly willing to show paperwork to that effect.

  “Oh. My. God.” I look over at the doorway to see Elle staring at me with a giant grin on her face. “You actually did it? I’m so fucking proud of you!”

  I shake my head. “I mean, I’m not sure you will be. I basically said that I wanted a one-night stand. Because you’re right. I need to get some action and release some of the stress.”

  “Girl,” Elle says, “believe me, I’m not judging. It’s been long enough. I’m just happy that you’re taking the step at all, frankly.”

  I laugh. “Am I really that bad?”

  “We both know that you are. Someone messaged you already?”

  “Yeah,” I nod. “Sounds like he could work pretty well. But am I really going to do this? Meet a stranger and just let him fuck me?”

  “There’s a reason that I recommended this app,” Elle says. “I’ve been using it for a while. And unlike other apps—I know it sounds crazy because it’s anonymous—but I’ve never had a bad experience. No one has ever been creepy or ever made me feel unsafe. Which feels like a miracle.”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “That really does.”

  “So go get some!”

  I shake my head. The phone buzzes in my hand, but I don’t look down at it. Not yet. “Are you going to do that thing for me where if I don’t text you in a certain amount of time you’re going to call the police?”

  “Of course. But I mean, I’ll be honest, you were up front about the fact that you wanted sex. Men love that. I doubt that this guy is a murderer.”

  “You never know,” I mutter, glancing down at the phone.

  I’m imagining pinning you to the bed with my mouth and tasting you until you scream. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a screamer. You will tonight.

  Shivers run across my skin, and a visceral image of that floods my mind. Yes. I blush red, and Elle sees. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Fine,” I say. “He said something very sexual that I would prefer not to share at this moment.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Was it good at least?”

  I nod. “It certainly…stimulates the imagination.”

  “You’re killing me here.”

  “If it happens, I’ll tell you later.”

  Elle points at me. “I’m holding you to that, you know. Now go, get out of here and go get laid. I’ll finish up.”

  “Are you serious, Elle? There’s so much to do.”

  She shakes her head, “No, there isn’t. Now get out of here. If I can’t finish it all, I’ll come in early. You never take a break and you deserve one.”

  “Remind me to buy you a present,” I say, gathering my things.

  She smirks. “My paycheck is present enough. But text me and let me know what’s happening so that I know if I have to call the authorities. You know, normal best friend things.”

  I laugh as I head out of the store, peeking at my phone again.

  I’ll be ready in ninety minutes. I type. Does that work for you?

  Perfectly.

  I text him the address as I slip into my car. Crossing my fingers that this isn’t the stupidest decision that I’ve ever made in my life.

  3

  This is insane. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  As soon as I got home I jumped in the shower. I quickly shaved, then put on a comfortable but pretty shirt and some leggings. I did my make-up, too. God, I hope he’s attractive. Cause even though I don’t owe this stranger from the internet anything, that’ll be awkward, and I don’t want that.

  He’s supposed to be here in five minutes, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I keep pacing around my living room, watching through the cracks in the curtain to see if a car pulls up outside my house.

  My cat, Ursula, senses my distress. She jumps up onto the windowsill on my latest pass by it and rubs her head against my hip. I run my hand along her back, accepting the comfort that she’s offering.

  What am I doing?

  I want this. I can’t deny that I do. The commanding tone that VonRedwood used in the text messages spoke to me and woke my arousal. And the sexual frustration from this morning still has its hold on me. That still doesn’t change the fact that this is absurd.

  I can fully admit that.

  A set of lights runs across the window as a sleek car pulls up alongside the curb. Oh shit, this is real. This is actually happening. I see him get out of the car, but it’s already getting dark outside, and I can only see his silhouette. He’s tall, just like his profile said, and clearly fit. So I don’t have to worry about that.

  Nerves bubble in my stomach as I wait for the knock to come. And when it does, I’m paralyzed for a full second before I can force myself to move. I can do this. I want to do this.

  I open the door, and my stomach falls through the ground and into the center of the earth. The man standing in front of me is fucking gorgeous. Perfect in every way. Model looks and a smile that could put someone in an early grave. But that’s not why I feel like I’m about to pass out.

  It’s because Bryce is standing on my doorstep. Bryce, the man I’ve wanted since before I was legal. Bryce, the man who’s been invading my dreams for years and who I cursed today for driving me to absolute distraction. Bryce.

  It registers on his face a second later. “Katti?”

  God, I just want to die. I told him on the app that I wanted him to fuck me. Use toys on me. I mean, I didn’t know it was him, but now I’ll never be able to take that back. There’s a reason I moved away from home, and it was to avoid this.

  “Bryce,” I say, my voice not at all steady. It’s like a breathy moan and I wish that it wasn’t filled with the longing that I absolutely feel.

  He’s staring at me, face plastered with shock. I’ll never be able to unsee that look on his face. The discovery that I like older men. That I, Katti Everly, his best friend’s daughter, has a collection of sex toys that I was prepared to let a stranger use on me.

  “I—” he says. “This is not what I expected.”

  That voice is just what I remember. Rich and deep like hot chocolate with an accent that makes me swoon. But now he thinks I’m some sort of deviant, and I’ll live forever in embarrassment. I would rather have had our final meeting ever—because I’ll make sure that this is it—been something a lot less mortifying.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “You should go.”

  I move the door and he catches it with his hand. “You’re not even going to invite me inside?”

  I shake my head. “You said it yourself. This isn’t what you were expecting. You came here to have a night full of carefree sex, not find out t
hat your best friend’s daughter is a deviant and a sex-starved pervert.”

  Bryce narrows his eyes, and easily pushes the door open again and steps inside, into my space. He closes the door behind him, and he’s looming over me. I’d forgotten how tall he is. “Is that what you think I think?” he asks, reaching out and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Because that’s not the case in the slightest.”

  “You don’t have to say that, Bryce. It’s okay. You can just go.”

  He guides me against the wall, pressing me there. Not hard, but firmly enough so I don’t run away and he can look at my face. But I don’t want to. I avoid his eyes, even as he seeks them.

  “Do you really think that I would agree to meet up with someone who I thought was a complete pervert? Why would I do that?”

  “Sex.”

  He chuckles, and I hate the way that sound tugs at my gut, doing things to me that I can’t possibly explain to him. “I don’t usually use Heart First for sex, Katti. But your profile, what you wrote, everything from wanting an older man with an accent to what you put as your kinky interests. It called out to me. I wanted to find out who you were, and I meant all those things I said.”

  I see it when it dawns on his face. “You said you were trying to get someone out of your head. Someone older. Someone with an accent.”

  He lets the words hang in the air, and I finally meet his eyes. They’re asking me the question that I can’t answer. I won’t answer. Not until he says it.

  Finally, after an eternity. “Is it me?”

  I nod.

  Bryce sighs, hands tightening on my shoulders, and he steps just a little bit closer. “I haven’t seen you in four years, Katti. How come you’re trying to forget me? Why am I on your mind at all?”