Roommate Arrangement

Firecrackers in My Pants

Perrie

Holy fuck. Jade Thirlwall is going to kill me. My dick is incredibly excited about what's happening right now. It seems to be taking the wheel a lot these days, especially in relation to the girl currently stroking my pet ferret, who has picked a rather inconvenient location to have a nap.

For the past two days I've been second-guessing my decision to let Jade move in here while I'm away. Taking the offer back would make me an asshole, but the last time I had someone pet-sit for me, Francesca almost escaped. And all of Tiny's crickets ended up getting free. They were all over the condo. It was disgusting.

Asking Leigh-Anne to take care of Tiny and Francesca hadn't been ideal, but I needed someone reliable and trustworthy. With Francesca being a fugitive because of her illegal status, I like to have a friend look after her while I'm away, but it's usually for much shorter time spans. My brother had a girlfriend a while back who would do it, but she's out of the picture, so I can't ask her anymore. Leigh-Anne was someone I knew personally, and she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. But stopping by every couple of days isn't enough, not for five weeks. So out of desperation, and some guilt, and with some internal convincing that Jade wasn't going to lose my ferret in one of the heating vents, I stuck to the plan. So here she is, stroking my ferret.

As Jade's long, caramel hair tickles my arm and her shirt dips, giving me an excellent view of her cleavage, I can admit to myself that my dick is one-hundred percent in control of all decision making where Jade is concerned at this moment, and that it was partially responsible for allowing her to move in here.

Jade's still petting Francesca. Which would be fine, except her favorite place to curl up happens to be right on top of my decision-making dick. And its awareness of how close Jade's hand is causing an unfortunate reaction, because it would like the same treatment.

Which isn't going to happen. Not tonight anyway. Not when I'm leaving her in my condo for the next five weeks. I barely know her. She could be one of those girls who automatically assume sex equals a relationship. And since she's taking care of my pets, I can't have additional complications getting in the way of that. Maybe once I'm back and her living situation is taken care of it could be a possibility. Unfortunately, getting my head below the waist to acknowledge the downside of getting into her shorts tonight seems rather impossible.

Shit. I need to get my head under control. Both of them. Under any other circumstances I'd relocate Francesca, because I recognize her preferred napping location is a little odd. Usually there's no one else here to witness it. Unfortunately, I'm starting to get hard, and she's the only thing hiding what will definitely become a full-blown problem if Jade keeps petting her.

I'd like to attribute the blame, in part, to the shorts Jade is wearing. They barely cover her ass.  I'm currently fighting with my hands to stay tucked behind my neck rather than reaching out and copping a feel.

I'm not being a perv. Not intentionally. But she's freshly showered and, based on her casual attire and her complete lack of makeup, she's not concerned about impressing me. I like it. A lot. She's different from the girls I'm typically subjected to, especially with my mother's recent interference in my dating life.

I drag my eyes up, away from the perfect globe of her ass, hugged by tiny shorts, to the curve of her waist, up over her cleavage, along her neck to the line of her jaw. I get caught at her mouth. Her tongue peeks out just a little, a tongue I've had in my mouth before. The memory is a little fuzzy thanks to the cold meds and scotch combo, but I still have it – and I'd like to see what else that smart, sassy mouth of her can get up to.

But not tonight.

This is my new mantra. I'm sure I can keep my hands and my mouth to myself long enough to get my ass on that plane tomorrow morning. Normally I'm pretty decent with self-control. For as many years as I spent playing professional sports where  my fans will happily shed their clothes with little more encouragement than a smile, I didn't take advantage of opportunities for endless hookups.