The Arrangement (Erotic Novella) Read Online Free

the
roughness of his onslaught. I need it I think. His savage claiming
of me.
    He curses and I
know he’s close, withdrawing near entirely before each deep
intrusion. I’m wet with sweat - his and mine - and I tilt my chin
up to lick the salty skin of his neck.
    “Em -” he
growls, and then he’s coming, throbbing inside me for what seems
like eternity.
    His body sinks
a little too heavily onto mine, and I don’t mind one bit. And when
he lifts up onto his shoulders and looks down at me like that, all
sated and adorable, I really don’t mind that either.
    “I think I
could do that forever and never get bored,” he says with a lopsided
smile which melts me inside.
    And that’s what
scares me. How easily the thought just drifts into my brain. Me
too, boss. Me too.

    *****

    He's as wasted
as I am now. Drunk on pheromones. Blissfully sated, sprawled across
my bed, our limbs a tangled mess. This is more familiar, this
post-sex meshing of bodies. My cheek nestled against Harry's
shoulder, his soft armpit hair tickling my neck. I know this
position, know the brainless warm fuzz of our aftermath. Though
even this is off-kilter now. He's not chatting like he usually
would, joking about how squeezable my butt is, or faffing with my
hair. He's too quiet. Not nervous - at least I don't think so -
more thoughtful.
    "What's up?
    Harry squeezes
me a little in response. "Shower time," he says, but he doesn't
mean it as an answer. He's not ready to say whatever it is yet, and
something inside me relaxes. Perhaps I'm not ready to hear it
either.
    We shower together. We've done this before too. Too many times
to count. It's hardly new ground we're covering. But it's different
knowing he's waiting. Picking his moment to say something. He holds me close and washes us both. I can’t see his face, and I
think that’s deliberate. I’ve got to be patient. Wait until he’s
ready.
    Though as he
pulls his clothes on in my room I realize I got it wrong. He’s not
planning on telling me anything, Whatever this thing is,
he’s not going to share. Not unless I push. Which - of course - I
do.
    “So…” I say,
hoping maybe that’ll be enough to get the ball rolling.
    “So…?”
    I sigh. He
knows too bloody well what I’m getting at. “So, we were going to
talk? After the fucking?”
    “Oh that . Well - OK - what do you want to talk about?”
    What do I
want to talk about?! Are you kidding me?! Well, for starters we
could talk about how Deanne got the wrong idea, and then - oh, I
dunno - perhaps we could talk about what’s happened to turn you
into this great hulking sex god! But I don’t say any of that, of
course.
    “Well,” I say,
“You seem… a little different.” I’m aiming for cool, calm
indifference.
    “Do I?”
    “For fuck sake,
Harry, you know you do!” I think my coolness may be
slipping.
    "There's
nothing to talk about, Em. I realized something, that's all. We
don't need to discuss it."
    Oh, but I
really think we do . And what’s more, we’re going to.
"Spill the beans, boss. I'm all ears. What’s the damn secret!"
    "You want
me."
    "I... What?!"
Is he joking? It’s the kind of thing he’d joke about for sure. But
somehow I don’t think he is joking. For one thing he’s not
laughing. He can’t even seem to look at me. Like he can’t bear to
see my reaction to his words.
    "You want me,"
he says again, this time with a sigh.
    "Harry, I... I
don't..."
    "See," he
laughs, still looking away, "I said we shouldn't discuss it."
    "What are you
saying, Harry? I want you to be my boyfriend?!" I don't want to
hurt him, but I'm not going to be told what I want. It's crazy.
It's insulting is what it is.
    Harry answers
my question with a shrug. Apparently that’s all I’m getting.
    "Don't you
think I'd know? Harry!” I snap, and when he shrugs again, I hear
myself getting louder. “For God's sake just answer the fricking
question. If I wanted us to be boyfriend and girlfriend - to have
some kind of exclusive