Dirty Roomie (Tempting the Trainer) Read online

  DIRTY ROOMIE

  * * *

  (Tempting the Trainer)

  Vanessa Lovecraft

  Copyright © 2016 Vanessa Lovecraft

  All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form,

  stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means

  —electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—

  without prior written permission of the writer,

  except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  For permission requests, write to the creator at: [email protected]

  * * *

  CONTENT WARNING:

  This book contains sexually explicit material, adult themes, and strong language

  which may not be suitable for younger audiences.

  Reader’s discretion is advised.

  ~ Scene Selection ~

  1

  2

  3

  4

  1

  I can’t keep my eyes off the clock. He was supposed to be home ten minutes ago, and every extra second that passes is making my heart beat a little faster. Tonight is the night. It’s 8:05, I’m sprawled out on the couch in this dainty, dark red lingerie, and I’m waiting for my roommate to get home from his late-night shift at the gym. Call me a seductress—call me whatever you want. I don’t care…I’m getting a piece of that tasty Dylan pie tonight. At least, that is the plan.

  Damn. It’s 8:06, now. I’ve been holding this same silly pose for the last fifteen minutes, and my arm is starting to fall asleep. Shit. So is my leg, but I’ve already promised myself that I’m not moving until he walks through that door. I’m not moving until he has his big, burly hands wrapped around my waist, and his face is pressed against my chest…assuming all things go according to plan, of course. Patience, Melissa. Patience. I digress. Let me think, what exactly was it that went so horribly wrong, which caused me to be so desperate for a man I’ve only known for only one week?

  *Flashback—six days ago*

  “Alright, I did it.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I’ve gotten about a hundred e-mails from old, wrinkly perverts who would just love to have some ‘female company,’ as one of them put it.”

  Sarah takes a big sip of her coffee, and diverts her eyes from me. Some plan she had, right? She thought it would be a piece of cake for me to find a place to live via the internet, but oh boy, was she wrong. “Just give it some time. You can stay with me for a few more days if you need to.”

  “Thanks.” I respond to her sarcastically. Not that I wasn’t thankful for her hospitality, but Sarah had a family of her own, and I already felt that I was overstaying my welcome. And her freaking infant child would incessantly utter these ear-piercing screams every half hour, leaving me with no sleep at all. Yes, I was at my breaking point. Yes, I was desperate to find someone to live with. Since I can’t get any sleep, I decide to sift through my e-mails, and sure enough, I find someone promising…

  Hey, my name’s Dylan. I have a room available. $650/mo, and it’s yours. Let me know if you’re interested.

  It’s almost a little too casual for my taste, but at least he was to-the-point. Figure I’ll give this Dylan guy a shot, so I send him a message back, saying I will be available to meet with him tomorrow. Now, I as lie here with the covers pulled over my head, I can’t help but wonder if that that was the best decision I’ve ever made…or the worst.

  I wake up the next morning with sixty more e-mails in my inbox. I let out an exhausted sigh, and begin scrolling through them until...Dylan! Thank god he got back to me. His second e-mail is almost shorter than the last. He says he’ll be free anytime this afternoon, and leaves me his number and address, so I call him immediately.

  The phone rings twice, and I’m already getting nervous. I hate talking on the phone. “Hello?” I hear his muffled voice form the other end, and holy cow is it deep and buttery.

  “H—hey.” I respond, stumbling over my words like an idiot. “It’s me…uh, Melissa. The one who e-mailed you last night?”

  “Oh, cool. So, did you want to stop by sometime today?”

  “Yeah, that would be fun. I mean…fantastic.” Melissa, you moron. “How does 1:30 sound?”

  “I’ll be home. I’m in Unit #2. Just knock when you get here.”

  “Sounds great!”

  “Later.”

  I hang up the phone. So much for first impressions. I start talking myself out of going, based solely on that wonderful interaction I just had with him, but I have to. I have to get out of Sarah’s hair.

  I start driving to the address he gave me, and my heart is fluttering a million miles an hour the whole way there. I start conjuring up this image of him in my head based solely on his voice—what I think he might look like—and every variation is nothing but drop dead gorgeous. Fuck. Am I really ready to live with an attractive stranger? Am I even fit to live with a guy right now, period? I guess I’ll find out.

  I arrive at his duplex fashionably late, but not on purpose. I drove slowly, just to give myself some time to mentally prepare myself, but unfortunately, it still wasn’t enough of a buffer. My entire body is now drowning in anxiousness—it’s all happening too fast. I take a deep breath, throw my light blue civic in park, and step outside. Fresh air. Inhale. Exhale. Here we go.

  I walk up the three small, concrete steps leading to his door, knock twice, and…

  “Hello miss, what can I do ya fer?”

  I freeze in place when an old, stumpy, redneck-looking fellow greets me. The smell of cigarettes nearly singes the hairs out of my nose. I’ve been duped. “Uh…” I don’t even know what to say. “Is…is Dylan around?”

  He clears his throat, and points to the left with his thumb. “Ya got the wrong place.” Cue the biggest feeling of relief in my entire life. “He’s next door.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I say quietly. “Thanks…have a good day.” Yep, that’s me. Queen of socially awkward situations. I slap my forehead when I spot the unit number right next to the doorbell. Alright, let’s try this again. Of course, now I’m as nervous as ever.

  I jaunt to the adjacent door, and knock a little harder than I did last time, and that’s when he answers. My whole body tenses up when the door swings open to reveal a shirtless beast of a man. His chest glistens in the light of the summer sun, and the veins in his forearms are bulging. I haven’t even taken a look at his face until…”Hey.” My eyes break from his tight, perspiration-covered chest, and fall upon his excruciatingly handsome face. It’s over. I’m done for.

  “H—hi. I’m Melissa.”

  He unwraps a piece of fabric from his hand, and outreaches his dense, vascular arm. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dylan, come inside.” Come inside? Don’t mind if you do! Oh my god, my mind is already going there.

  He pivots around, I follow closely behind him, and quite frankly, I cannot help but stare impolitely at that bubble butt of his. Those tight fitting spandex shorts are nothing short of heavenly. I take a seat on his leather couch.

  “Well, welcome to my place.” He flips on the TV, and changes it to a sports channel. “Sorry I didn’t clean up before you got here. I’m kinda stuck in the ‘bachelor phase’ right now.” I stare at him with a look of inquisition. “Oh, uh…girlfriend problems. She broke up with me about a month ago. I’m still adjusting.”

  “Hm, I see.” The sink full of dishes and disheveled living room is slightly off putting, but who the hell cares. Look at that body. “It’s fine, I understand.”

  We chat for a while before he shows me the extra room upstairs. It’s nice. Works for me, and
rent is relatively cheap compared to other places in the area.

  “So, what do you think?” That damn voice. I just want him to whisper sweet nothings into my ear forever.

  “I like it. When can I move in?” I say with a tone of excitement.

  He smiles wide, and adjusts the waistband of his shorts. “Anytime. Papers are ready to go, you can move your stuff in tonight, if you want to.”

  Perfect. He leads me downstairs, and I sign the agreement without hesitation. It’s done. No going back now. The world spins around me as I get one more look at this full-blown stud, and take in all of his succulent features. I’m in heaven...lost in a dream. That’s the only logical explanation. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” I say, as he walks me to the door.

  “Need any help moving?”

  “I think I got it.” Thank you, though.

  Four exhausting hours later, and with a little help from Sarah, I’m completely moved in. Dylan—he’s nowhere to be seen. Must be at work. “Thank you so much. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

  Sarah shakes her head reassuringly. “Not at all. And hey, call me if you need anything, alright? I mean, this was a pretty fast move. If something isn’t right, let me know.”

  I give her a friendly peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s meet up for coffee again sometime this week.”

  “I’d love that.” And with one last hug, Sarah scurries out the door, leaving me by myself. All alone.

  Now, the fun begins.

  2

  I’m a strong advocate for privacy and personal space, don’t get me wrong, but let’s face it—when you’re left alone in the house of Hottie McHeartthrob, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. As soon as the door closes behind Sarah, I rush up the stairs, and sneakily make my way to Dylan’s room. Sure, my morality is torn as I twist his door knob, but at this point, I’m on autopilot.

  As soon as I enter, my nose is raptured in his masculine scent, which is being derived from freshly-worn workout clothes, and Versace cologne. It’s a musk that makes my southern-regions tingle, but I suppress the feeling and continue my dastardly snooping. Clothing closet? Maybe another time. I happen to know where every single guys keep their fun stuff. I tip-toe over to his night stand, pull open the drawer, and my eyes widen. Trojans—Magnums. Oh yeah, he’s definitely hung. They look pretty old too, and something tells me he hasn’t had a fling since his girlfriend left him. I can only imagine how frustrating that must be for a guy…all of that pent up testosterone, just begging to be unloaded into a tight little…

  “Pussy? Oh my god, he has a pocket pussy.” Listen, I’m also a strong advocate when it comes to pleasuring one’s self, but it is a shame that he’s wasting that big cock of his on a piece of plastic. That’s going to change—I promise, that is going to change. I take notice of a few other vibrating do-dads in the same drawer, but I feel that I’ve seen enough. As I leave his room—ensuring that everything is back in its place to avoid suspicion—I tell myself that by the end of the week, Dylan won’t have a need for that fake little toy. I’m going to give him the real deal.

  I hear the dead-bolt slide to the left, so I make my way down the stairs to greet him. He comes through the door panting hard—exhausted. “Oh, hey.” He says, while grabbing huge breaths with his lungs. “Whew, what a day. Sheesh. Looks like you’ve made yourself at home. Sorry I wasn’t available to help out.”

  “Oh no, It’s fine. I didn’t have much to move anyway.” He makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “So…I don’t think I’ve asked you yet. What is it exactly that you do for work?”

  He glugs the water down in big gulps, and lets out a satisfied sigh. “I’m a personal trainer for Seven Star Gym, just down the street.” Of course he is. “What about you?”

  I take a seat on the bar stool next to me, and twirl my hair with my pointer finger. “Oh, I run a few e-commerce websites for some clients. I get to work from home, so that’s a plus. That being said, I’ll probably be here a lot, so if you ever need anything.” I wink. I fucking wink, but luckily he totally misses it. What is this, high school? I need to up my game. I decide to stop while I’m ahead.

  “Noted, thanks.” An awkward silence falls over the both of us. He smoothly breaks it. “Well, I’m going to hop in the shower. I guess I’ll catch you later.”

  “Sounds good.”

  My mind is reeling as I listen to the water running in his upstairs bathroom. Personal trainer, macho-muscles, and recently single? It’s a sign. It has to be, especially considering I even found his e-mail, specifically, among the sea of others. I need to push my social awkwardness to the very back of my head, and pursue this hung hunk like my life depends on it. I know, you aren’t supposed to sleep with your roommate, but let’s be real for a minute. I’m desperate. It’s been, what, ten months since I’ve been with a guy? That’s a problem, and from what I’ve seen, Dylan has the tools to fix it.

  * * *

  A couple days have passed. It’s Wednesday now, and honestly, I haven’t seen much of Dylan lately. Our schedules seem like polar opposites—I get my work done in the mornings, and he usually isn’t out of the house till the afternoon…but after a lot of scheming, I’ve decided to stay up tonight. I have a few events planned, and I have yet to find out if they are genius, or utterly insane. Phase #1—The Panty Plant: As soon as he left for work, I may have mixed in one or two of my thinnest, laciest bottoms into his laundry pile. By my calculations, he should find them sometime tomorrow. Phase #2—The Dildo Distractor: Yeah, that one monstrous, veiny one that I bought online that barely fits? I’m going to “drop” it from underneath my blanket when I move back upstairs when he gets home. Surely that will get his imagination going. And if not, there’s always phase three…let’s all hope he gets the hint before I have to resort to phase three.

  I hear the door click open at eight o’clock sharp, and I can hear his sexy, exhausted breaths before I even see him. “Hey.” I call out from the couch as he walks into the living room. “How was work?” I try to make my words sound genuinely interested, but honestly, the only thing I truly care about is holding a face-to-face conversation with him, so I can feast on every square inch of his hard, swollen body with my eyes.

  “Oh, it was good. Same old thing.” He starts to head upstairs, but I stop him short.

  “Oh, I was going to ask you something about…” I get up with the dildo hidden stealthily under my blanket, ready to attack. “…this over here. It looks like the railing is starting to get a bit loose.” I move half-way up the stairs, and get into position. Dylan is watching me from the bottom.

  “Really? I haven’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, I think there might be a missing screw right…” NOW! The moment I release the concealed rubber dong from my grip, the world begins to move in slow motion. My gaze is fixated on Dylan’s reaction as it comes into his view, bounces off the first stair, and tumbles straight towards him. I see his eyes get wide—I can tell immediately that his mind is moving a million miles a minute as his imagination takes over. She uses that? I know that’s what he’s thinking. And…oh, what is this? When my attack dildo comes to a stop, Dylan looks at me, and then back to it. His face goes flush, and I notice his bulge growing a little bigger underneath those spandex shorts of his.

  “Um…you dropped something.”

  “Oops.” I say to him as his face turns redder than a firetruck. I start to swagger down the stairs slowly to retrieve my toy. “You know, Dylan, you shouldn’t be so embarrassed. It’s no secret that a woman has needs, just like a guy does.”

  I expect him to break right then and there—just grab me, throw me on the couch, and tear my clothes off—but he fails to connect the dots. “Uh, yeah. Sorry that had to happen. I’m just gonna…go now.” He takes off to the bathroom, and jumps into the shower.

  Shit. Well, that didn’t exactly go according to plan. And now I’m wondering if I came on too strongly, or if he even knows that I
did it on purpose. I’m a pretty horrible actor, ladies and gentlemen, so it would be quite amazing if he actually thought that was an accident. Oh, well. I guess I’ll just have to stay patient. Patient, and persistent.

  * * *

  It’s Friday morning now. Another couple of days have slowly come and gone, and Dylan seems to be busier than ever. I think I’ve only seen him like four different times since the “incident,” but tonight is going to be different. It has to be different, because I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. And understandably so. I mean, I go to bed knowing full well that Sexy McSexface is right down the hall from me. Knowing full well that he would absolutely rock my world in every way, shape, and form if he was to have his way with me. I need him, but he’s still not getting the hint.

  I’m putting work aside today to focus on his every move before he takes off for work again. Right now he’s in the shower—my god, does he take a lot of showers—but I’m hoping he does his laundry before he leaves. I watch through the crack of my door as he leaves the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, and oh my god…his bedroom door is wide open, and I can see everything as he changes. The towel drops, revealing his bare naked body from head to toe. Call me a perv. Whatever, I’ll admit it, but any girl would do the same if they were in my position.

  Remember those Trojans? Yep, he needs the magnums. My roomie Dylan is shamelessly hung like a horse. He’s packing heat down there. The moment I see that full-frontal nude, I’m finished. There’s no going back anymore. I’m going to get him on top of me tonight no matter what it takes. I can’t bear it any longer. If that beautiful cock isn’t working its magic all up inside of me before I go to bed tonight, I’m definitely going to go crazy.

  Yes—it looks like phase one is finally starting to work. After Dylan gets dressed, I watch as he grabs his overflowing hamper of dirty clothes, and brings it to the laundry room. He stops halfway down the hall when he notices something is a little out of place. He sets the hamper down on the ground as a look of curiosity takes over his face. He reaches down, and grabs the first bright pink pair, and holds them up at eye-level. He’s confused, no doubt about it, but sure enough, that look of confusion turns into a sexy, inquisitive grin. He wants it.