I sighed.
“My name’s Clara. Is he here?”
The guy looked at me suspiciously before shouting over his shoulder. He conspicuously kept his eyes glued to me, as if I were the shady one here.
“Hey, Dalton? Some girl’s here for you. Clara? Ring a bell? Want me to make her go away?”
A muffled response came, and the guy looked over at me with a half-sneer. “Uh, come in, I guess. Make yourself at home. Don’t touch my stuff.”
“This is my first time here,” I told him in barely-covered exasperation. “How am I gonna know what things are yours?”
The strange roommate froze, apparently contemplating that. “You know what? Don’t touch anything then. My stuff is mine. Not yours.”
“Duly noted,” I replied crisply, following him inside. He pointed me towards the couch as he took up residence in a comfortable recliner, snatching up the remote. He turned the volume back up on a TV that practically dwarfed even our own, and I glanced around at my surroundings.
The house was decorated sparsely, but it was surprisingly clean for a place where this character lived. Clearly, I didn’t have to worry about touching any of his things… there’s no way that any of this belonged to him.
The furniture was nice and reasonably expensive, with the exception of the filthy chair that the stranger occupied. There were some throw pillows on the couch and a folded blanket, lying over the back; it seemed like it had been bought without much consideration, just to fill the space and look good.
The walls were a soft opaque tan color, which worked well with the furniture selections and the sprawling Persian-style rug. It seemed that the whole house bore beautiful hardwood floors, which probably meant that it was going to be chilly as fuck when the winter finally came.
As for mental stimulation, a nearby bookcase carried a number of interesting books, including a lot of literary classics and authors: Mark Twain, Stephen King, Anne Rice, Isaac Asimov, and a number of others whom I barely recognized.
While I remained seated, glancing around my new environment and taking in a few pieces of art on the walls, I heard a lazy clamoring from deeper into the house.
A door opened, and heavy footsteps brought someone our way until Dalton’s face finally peered in around the doorway.
“Pete, I thought you said Clara was–”
He looked surprised when he saw me on the couch. “Wait. Clara, why didn’t you just come back here?”
“I, uh, was pointed this way?”
His face settled on his roommate. “Look, Pete, the next time I tell you to let someone in and send her my way, I’d like you to actually let them in and send them my way.”
Pete shrugged, his eyes glued to the screen.
Covering his face and sighing, Dalton motioned for me to follow him. He led me down a long hallway and towards the light of an open door, presumably his bedroom.
“You’ll have to forgive my, uh, guest,” Dalton replied tersely.
“Is he your roommate?” I asked.
“For a little while, I guess,” he conceded. “This place is mine alone, but Pete is an old marine buddy of mine. He’s suffering from some flashbacks from his days in the service… something I can sympathize with.” He paused a moment, changing his tone. “Pete’s getting back on his feet, and I told him that he could stay here a month or two. Turns out that he’s a bit skittish of unfamiliar company, I guess.”
“He was giving me the third-degree, that’s for sure. Ignored me when I knocked. I thought that was you peering at me through the curtains.”
“It was that bad?” He sighed. “Alright… I’ll have a word with him about that. I don’t need my weird friend scaring away the company and not opening the door for guests…”
Dalton held his door open for me, and I stepped into his bedroom. A large king-sized bed dominated the space. The walls bore a couple of posters – mostly models, sexily strutting for the camera. In the corner, there was a desk, set up with a computer; a display nearby had some awards on it, along with what looked like his Marines graduation gear.
There was another flat-screen TV on an entertainment stand, facing away from the bed. Although smaller than the living room set, it was still almost as big as our own television in Natalie’s apartment. He had it paused on some sort of nature documentary.
“I know it’s not much, but with this whole house to myself, I never know how to fill the space,” Dalton shrugged.
“No, I mean, it looks nice.”
He smirked. “Yeah. Nice. This looks nice. I’d hate to see what you think bad looks like. Anyway, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” I told him quietly. “Sorry if I came off a bit rude. And I just wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to see me, huh?” Dalton chuckled, although his eyes told me that he was pleased to hear this. “Come on over, then. The bed’s warm. Hope you don’t mind a little Meerkat Manor.”
“You’re watching Meerkat Manor?” I asked, amused. I didn’t really know that much about the show. From what I recalled, it dramatized the lives of a pack of meerkats in the Serengeti.
“Totally. This is my jam when I need a pick-me-up,” Dalton smiled. He kicked out across the huge bed, his back up against the wall. I settled down beside him, keeping just enough distance between us.
“This is so plush,” I thought aloud as I got comfortable on his bedding.
“Memory foam,” he chuckled.
“You’ve got a rental house, expensive TVs, and memory foam mattresses? What kind of crazy inheritance do you have?”
Dalton coughed involuntarily.
“Oh, I just have a big bank account, thanks to eight back-to-back years in the Marines,” he answered. “I mean, yeah, I probably splurged a little much, but I figured I’d treat myself now and get it all out of the way.”
“I see that,” I replied, looking around briefly.
The computer in the corner didn’t look particularly impressive, and besides some nice furniture and the televisions, it seemed like everything else was just here to fill the space attractively. Even the vehicles outside weren’t too crazy, although I was guessing now that the car probably belonged to his roommate.
“So, what do you wanna do?” Dalton asked, peering at me from the corner of his eye.
“I dunno,” I answered truthfully.
There was no way that I’d come here to fuck him, especially with the complication between us… but here I was, seated beside him in the most comfortable bed I’d ever beheld. We were watching some nature show together, the silence between us already starting to crackle with desire.
“Well, I’m fine with us just continuing to watch this for the moment,” he shrugged, letting the next episode queue up.
“Okay. That sounds good.”
The show continued on, and I found myself questioning what I’d hoped to get out of the night. This was my first time in his home, and I was here in his bed… pretending that I didn’t want his strong, handsome arms around me.
But we haven’t been seeing each other for long, I tried to reason to myself. And then there’s the matter of our parents… no reason to fuck THAT up.
No matter what, my logic couldn’t stand up against the feverous craving that was building up inside me… the yearning need to take
things further.
Although he thought he was being coy, I could tell that he was watching me more than the show. His eyes kept subtly tracing my body, and I knew that he was itching to pull me up against him.
“I’m glad you came,” he quietly told me.
“You know, I’m glad that I came, too,” I nodded. My lips started to betray me when they continued: “I’ve been dying to see you.”
“Is that so?” He subtly dragged the words out.
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s been on my mind all weekend. That’s why I didn’t understand earlier… I just wanted to be around you again.”
“You’ve been on mine too,” he confessed, pulling me a little closer. “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to do that entire time…”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, feeling my cheeks go flush with pleasure. “What might that… be…?”
I let the words drift as he tenderly gazed into my eyes, leaning forward. He pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss that felt as if it was setting off every last nerve ending across my skin, and my arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed me down into his comfortable bed…
Arrogant Brit
Chapter 9
Kissing Clara again proved to me that the sensations I felt the first time weren’t just some fluke. I felt alive when my lips were on hers, in a way that I hadn’t experienced before… not with previous girlfriends, flings, or one-night stands.
It was real.
The moment that I realized this, pulling her down into the bed with me, I felt significantly both better and worse about not telling her about the proposal. I wanted to get everything out of this that I could, regardless of what our parents did or didn’t do.
Yeah, it was selfish. But guess what?
You might have noticed that I’m actually kind of a selfish guy.
I didn’t push any further moves on her that night. Time wasn’t on my side; there was no way I was going to scare her off before she found out about the impending wedding.
We simply enjoyed ourselves together, keeping all of our clothes on and basking in their collective warmth and the emotion of our bodies. I tasted her mouth, nipping her bottom lip between my teeth and sliding my tongue along hers, biting at her earlobe...