Page 1 of A Bossy Roommate

1

CARTER

Iopen my eyes to near darkness.

My mind shuffles through the haze, taking in unfamiliar surroundings as I attempt to figure out my location. Motel room. Sketchy area.

I glance over at the nightstand to check the time.

4:56 a.m.

Way too early to be awake for most. But for me, it’s all part of my routine. Wake up early, work out, have my protein shake, jerk off in the shower, spend five minutes enjoying my morning coffee, then off to work.

Today’s going to be a little different.

I run my hand down my face, feeling naked tits against my arm. Brief flashes of smooth skin, eager lips, and warm thighs cloud my mind. I look over to find yesterday’s conquest fast asleep.

I met her at the most unexpected place.

It was precisely9:41 p.m. when I stopped to get gas in Wakefield, Bronx.

The cool blast of air-conditioning hit me when I pushed open the door to the small, somewhat dingy-looking place. It was a welcome relief from the humid summer night outside. I strode inside, black helmet in hand, my boots clanging against the floor. The rich scent of ice cream reached my nostrils, but there was nothing about it that piqued my interest.

“Black coffee, please,” I said, my voice a little hoarse from the long drive after meeting a potential client outside of town.

Without so much as a tired nod, the elderly barista stopped cleaning the counter to fill a mug with steaming hot coffee and slid it to me. As I took in my surroundings, I noticed that all the chairs had been stacked except for two at a small table in the corner. It seemed like the place was going to close soon. I headed over and took the empty seat.

Just when I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through my emails, the bell above the door chimed.

Glancing up, I noticed a young woman walking in. Her thin orange sundress fluttered around her legs. Long ebony hair was pulled up into a knot. She looked around the counter, her eyes wide with excitement. It was almost cute.

She asked the barista if they had cupcakes (they didn’t), and while he was cleaning, she cross-examined him with a million questions about each of their remaining ice cream flavors. His curt answers didn’t seem to bother her. Instead, she kept smacking her lips as if trying to taste the flavors before even ordering. Finally, she chose a triple scoop of something that had a brighter color than the flickering neon sign outside. I shook my head, refocusing on my phone, wondering how anyone could pick something with that much artificial food coloring.

Next thing I knew, she was making her way over to me, her heels click-clacking loudly, her cone threatening to topple over with each step.

“Excuse me,” I heard her say happily. “This seat taken?” With one quick glance, I took in her features. Red toenails, legs for days, wide hips, bouncy tits. Her lips were painted a nude color, while her green eyes stood out against a brownish eyeliner, drawing my gaze toward them.

“Go ahead,” I grumbled. “I’m about to leave.”

Instinctively, I scooted away to avoid any accidental collisions with the cone, already irritated by her humming and the sweet smell of her ice cream. Why would anyone need that much sugar in their system?

“Do you come here often, on your bike?” Sitting down, she pointed to my black helmet, droplets of melting ice cream dribbling onto the table.

I leaned even further away. “Not really. Just passing through.”

“Yeah, my first time in the Big Apple too. Just arrived, staying in a small but adorable motel nearby. My new apartment is about one hour across town, but it won’t be available until tomorrow afternoon. That’s why I’m staying here for the night.” She crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow. “Black coffee, huh?”

I nodded, taking a sip. She was still looking at me when I put the cup back down on the table. “Yeah, not into the sweet stuff,” I answered, my gaze trained on my phone.

“Well, I guess that means you’re not sweet enough for me.”

When I glanced back up, there was a smirk, a playful glint in her eyes.

Meeting my gaze, she moved the melting ice cream cone to her mouth. I anticipated that she would indulge in a—boringly clichéd—ice-licking motion while savoring her triple scoop.

Instead, she folded her lips over her teeth and slowly bit into her ice cream. Then she sucked it in with a loudslurp.

I found the sound incredibly irritating.