Page 1 of Naked Coffee Guy

Chapter One

Maren

“Baby.” He breathes it in my ear, which should have made me hot. But nothing about Brock makes me even lukewarm. He’s just a means to an end, a Band-Aid to my non-existent love life, and the reason I don’t feel the need to couple up and settle down. He’s also kind of my meal ticket, since he manages the apartment I live in. I have a feeling it’s why my rent hasn’t raised.

Hey, I’m not above securing rent control, even in non-conventional ways. Brock has been eyeing my ass since I moved in, and a couple years ago I finally gave it to him. We’re not exclusive. Hell, I have no idea what he does in his own time. But now and then—especially when I’m in a dry spell like my current situation—I text Brock and he comes trotting. Consider it my cure for California’s housing crisis.

He cradles the back of my neck, shifting his weight as he pulls my leg around him. “Fuck, your legs are so long,” he murmurs, running his hand over my calf, then my thigh, and over my bare ass before he resumes thrusting into me.

“Less talking, more fucking.” I nip his bottom lip, sucking on his lip ring as he groans against my mouth.

“Maren, baby, you make this so hard.”

This. Not me. I don’t slow my pace, because if he’s breaking off this casual fling we have going, I at least want to get my rocks off before it happens.

“I hope we can keep this going after you find a new place to live.”

That stops me. I still my hips and press my hands on his tattooed chest, my black manicured nails digging slightly into his skin as I fight the urge to carve his heart out.

“What do you mean, find a new place?” I narrow my eyes, daring him to retract his words. He grins, then nuzzles my neck with his nose. It’s a move that would normally send shivers up and down my body. Instead, I’m trying to ignore the feelings of repulsion that want to reject his dick that is still hard inside me.

“Consider this your advance notice,” he whispers, then rolls his hips as he continues grinding. I wrap my leg around his, grab his forearm, then flip him on his back so that I’m straddling him. His face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes hooded with lust as he licks his lips. “Damn Maren, you’re a good fuck.”

“What advance notice?” He reaches for me, but I swat his hands away. When he shifts under me, I thrust down to immobilize him. I can see the impatience washing over his expression, but I don’t care. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Hey, you still have thirty days.”

I freeze, letting his words sink in. Thirty days. To find a new place. I can barely afford this place, and I know it’s below market rate. How the fuck am I supposed to find a new place in a month?

Then I remember the guy I’m sitting on. Despite this sneak attack, he’s still hard. And the way he’s snaking his hands over my thighs, he thinks we’re still fucking.

“You’re evicting me while you’re inside me?” I slam my hands against his shoulder, pushing him hard against the mattress as I hoist myself off him. I’m deceivingly strong when I want to be, despite my wiry frame, and I find some satisfaction as he grunts from the move, and even more at the red marks I leave behind. I should have clawed his heart out while I had a chance.

“Baby, you’ll be fine. With a body like that, I bet you can find a new place in no time.”

“I’m not some fucking whore, Brock.”

He grins at this, sitting up in the bed. “Come on, Maren. I’m not calling you a whore. But I’m not dumb, either. Why are we even here? It can’t be all the non-existent dates we went on, or the sunset strolls we never took. Maybe it’s my charm, my good looks, or the way I make you come every time we fuck.”

Not every time, but I’m not taking the time to correct him. Sometimes a girl just needs the guy to finish, and a little fake orgasm speeds things along. Speaking of speeding things along, why is his naked ass still sitting on my bed?

“Do you have a point?”

“Yeah, I have a point. You’re fucking me because you think I can keep your rent low. But the truth is, I don’t have that kind of power. The owner is just too lazy to raise rents.”

He’s had no power over my rent. The fact that this new knowledge makes me regret the past few years says a lot.

I drag my eyes over him, trying to find the part of him I find attractive. His broad shoulders. His chiseled jawline. His solid tattooed chest and tree trunk arms. His giant hands that have been all over my body…

Not one thing attracts me, especially not in this moment.

I snatch his shirt and pants off the floor and throw them at him. “Get dressed and get out. Lose my number, Brock.” Then I turn on my heel and head for the shower, not even waiting for him to leave.

He’s gone by the time I get out. Not even a goodbye. Sure, this was nothing but a casual fling. And sure, I was using him. But his absence without a fight feels like a rejection.

“No, him kicking you out of your apartment is a rejection,” I mutter as I towel dry my hair. Fuck, I can be so stupid.

I’ve never done well with rejection. Correction. In my adult life, I have not had to deal with rejection. It’s why I don’t do relationships, and why I always break things off while things still feel hot and heavy. I’d rather leave them wanting more than be left behind with a broken heart.