Read Complicated by You Online

Authors: Kenya Wright

Tags: #complicated by you, #white boys, #college roomates, #Contemporary, #college football players, #erotic, #college, #steamy, #dating in college, #Erotica, #black girls, #swoon romance, #Romance, #interracial dating, #college life, #urban, #college jocks, #white men, #sexy new adult books, #ebook, #three-ways, #african american, #kenya wright, #interracial relationships, #interracial, #love and romance, #new adult

Complicated by You (2 page)

Not yet. Not until he comes.

The first time I heard him scream in pleasure, I became instantly hooked. It was like a drug entering my blood stream. Two weeks ago in the darkness of our room, he came hard into Cynthia’s mouth and I’d soaked my bed sheets with my own arousal. From that day on, I needed to hear him come inside of her.

So close.

Cynthia’s mattress moved up and down. The headboard hit the wall some more. Her breasts bounced with the bed’s cadence. He lowered himself down and savored her nipples.
Oh god.
Shivers of hot lust waved up my body, from the tips of my toes to the hard points of my own nipples. I bit down into my pillow to silence my moans.

If I could only get up from my bed, rip off my shirt, and lay between them, all would be perfect. Their bodies were sleek, shining in the light and moving together like only two humans could do in the middle of rapture.

“Oink!” her phone rang.

The loud oinking drowned out Purity Ring’s song. Jay groaned in annoyance. I cursed under my breath and then tensed, hoping no one had noticed the noise coming from me. Another oink rang from the phone. Cynthia stopped him by hitting his chest. She always did when the phone chimed, which had coincidentally been ringing around this time any night he stayed over. The third oink sounded.

“Stop, Jay. I have to answer it.”

“Please,” he grunted.

“I’ll be quick.”

Ridiculous.

If he’d been on top of me, all would’ve been forgotten—ringing phone, homework, the day’s worries, any impending emergency, fire in the room, a tornado spinning and twisting toward us. Everything would’ve swooped down into the dark corners of my mind and been ignored as nothing but Jay occupied my senses.

“You said you would stop answering the damn phone during sex.” Jay pulled out and rolled over, out of my gaze. So quick, I could barely get another glimpse of his cock. Inch-by-inch, I covered the blanket over my head to hide that I was awake. I sank deeper into my pillow and closed my eyes.

Damn it.

“Just give me a minute.” Movement sounded from their end. The light came back on. “I swear this time it’s an emergency.”

“Who is it?” Jay asked.

“My dad. I’m taking it outside.” Footsteps came next. Our door creaked opened and then slammed shut. The music lowered. Shuffling sounded from the bed as Jay murmured curses.

Her dad never called this late either. In fact, he never really called her at all.

I’d heard her crying to her mother about it one night. “It’s like he divorced us both. I’ve left so many messages. Are you sure that’s Dad’s new number?”

Why won’t she ever come when they have sex? Who does she talk to?

No one ever visited the room for her. Only my friends came by. And she never left the room unless it was to go to class, or hang with Jay.
Maybe the person calling is from her hometown.
Whoever was on the phone would keep her outside in our dorm’s hallway for a while. She would sit on one of the blue flowery couches in the lobby, turn on the television, and chat away as if a naked sculpted quarterback wasn’t lying in her bed with an aching erection.

Well, I might as well go to sleep. Party’s over.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minutes passed and I still hadn’t managed to fall asleep.

The seductive perfume of sex evaporated. I listened for the soft breathing that usually came when Jay slept. Instead, hard footsteps pounded to the side of my bed. I tensed as his shadow flickered over my sheet. It looked like he was bending over in front of my nightstand, the one that sat between Cynthia’s and my bed.
He’s at my dresser.
The screech of my bottom drawer sliding open confirmed it.

I glided my hand from under the sheet and punched him in his knee. “Get away from my chocolate, dickhead.”

“Fuck, Evie. That hurts.” He rubbed his knee.

“That’s what you get.” Amused, I yanked off my sheet and flipped up my middle finger. Sometime after Cynthia left the room, he’d put on his boxer briefs. Now only rock hard muscle pulsing at his thighs and chest taunted me.

“What do you have some sort of security sensors in this area?” One of my Snickers bars rested in his hand. “Every time I sneak and grab one, you injure me. Coach is going to kill you. I may not be able to run tomorrow.”

“Wah-wah! Should I make you a bottle and change your diaper, little baby?” I checked to make sure my shirt was down. I’d yanked it up earlier when I was touching myself. Billie Holiday’s entire face stayed intact as it adorned the front of my black shirt. Just the white rose in her hair appeared a bit wrinkled. I sat up and reached for the candy.

Anticipating my movement, he put it behind his back and out of my reach. “Who taught you to punch like that?”

“You did.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. That’s one of my biggest regrets in life.” He massaged the top of his knee again and made a big show of limping.
Oh you’re not hurt.
He landed on my bed with a hard plop. I bounced as he landed.

“Let’s split the bar,” he suggested.

 “No. You know I don’t eat after nine. That’s how I keep my hot figure.”

“Really? What happened to your theory about how those hips and behind came from the motherland and that’s why all the sisters have them?” He did a dramatic snapping of his fingers, which looked ridiculous coming from him. His green eyes gleamed in the light coming from Cynthia’s Kermit the Frog lamp.

“Whatever.” I checked the clock. “It’s midnight. You shouldn’t eat either.”

“I can eat anything I want.” He slipped his hands over the rows of muscle wrapped around his waist. “Grandpa says the college football years are the best time to stuff your face. Once I retire from pro football then I’ll be subjected to rabbit food as I sit my lazy ass in a chair, broadcasting sports for all of America.”

“Well if Grandpa says it, then it must be so. Although your grandfather told me we all descended from dinosaurs too, so … I’m just saying.”

“Well maybe not all of his theories are true.”

I lay back down, rolled over, and put my back to Jay, never able to truly deal with him when he was half-naked and so close. “I expect another Snickers in my drawer by this time tomorrow. If I don’t see one in here, I’m rushing off to your room and—”

“Beating my ass. Yes, I’m well aware of what happens when I don’t replace your chocolate.” The bed moved under me. His body smoothed against mine as he lay next to me and placed his arm over my hip.
Thank god, he can’t see my face.
Desire coursed through every cell in my body. Warmth radiated from him to me. His scent enveloped me—a dark vanilla fragrance with a hint of mint and sex.

Why is it always so easy for him to be close to me like this, when it tugs at my heart and does insane things to my insides?

“Are you going to eat lying down?” I swallowed.

“I’m not hungry anymore. I just couldn’t go to sleep. I figured I would make myself get the
itis
with your candy bar and then pass out.”

“Oh god. How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t say that word?”

“Why not?”

“It would sound like you’re racist if other black people heard you say ‘itis.’”

“I’m not saying the first part of the word, so I’m fine.”

“They would know you’re saying ‘niggeritis’ if you said ‘itis.’ I swear to God, if I hear you say it again, I’m notifying the NAACP.” A chuckle escaped my lips.

One time his grandparents let him stay with my mom and me for Thanksgiving. My Aunt Bernice rubbed her stomach after the meal and declared, “Girl, I ate so much. I’ve got a touch of the
itis
. I’ll be sleeping for days.”

At the end of the table, Jay leaned my way and whispered, “What’s
itis
, a disease or something?”

I giggled. “No, crazy. That’s what we say when we’ve eaten so much that our stomachs are packed and all we can do is sit on the couch in a comatose state. Someone always says they have the
itis
after a big meal. It’s like complimenting the cook.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

Jay loudly cleared his throat and proclaimed to everyone, “I think I have the
itis
too.” Everyone joked about it the rest of the night.

I shifted under his arm. “Put my candy bar up if you’re not going to eat it.”

He squeezed my waist and moved away. Jay returned the Snickers to my drawer then got back into bed and molded himself to my body. His hardness smoothed against my behind. As if he noticed, he scooted that part of him back a little, taking that luscious hardness away.

If only he could be mine.

“Your chocolate is safe.” His voice skittered across my skin like a gentle massage.

I shivered as my nerves flared. He’d lain in bed with me before. Most of the time, it happened after my tutoring sessions with him. If we studied late into the night, he stayed over and slept in my bed. All that changed once I got a roommate who actually stayed in my room and not with her boyfriend. Jay pretty much lived with me then, taking breaks during football camps and away games, or whenever he had a girlfriend.

When Cynthia came along first semester junior year, everything changed. Not only did she spend all of her time in our room, she’d managed to trap Jay’s attention and rein him in with the wink of an eye and a jiggle of her big breasts.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked.

“I’m tired. Why are you in my bed?”

“Because
this
bed is more comfortable. Cynthia keeps a piece of plywood between the mattress and box spring. No matter how many times I tell her it won’t help her back, she keeps it there. It’s so uncomfortable.”

I yawned and leaned my back into his chest. “It can’t be that bad.”

“The plywood doesn’t let the mattress flex or box spring do its job. I’m always aching all over.”

“Poor baby.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed his hold on me while I could. My nipples still remained hard. They pressed against my shirt’s material, begging to be touched. “I doubt Cynthia would understand that an uncomfortable mattress is the reason why you’re over here. Especially since you were hooking up with her only minutes ago.”

“How long have you been awake?”

I opened my eyes and could have hit myself for blurting that out. “Umm … not too long.”

“How long is ‘not too long?’”

“A few minutes or so. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“If you heard anything.” He nuzzled the back of my head and combed his fingers through my curly hair, his fingertips starting at my scalp, traveling through my naturally long curls, and ending at the tips before beginning a new path.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, before admitting, “I heard a little moaning and other things.”

“Sorry. We woke you.”

“No problem.”

“No?”

“Never.”

Silence passed for a few seconds as he continued to play with my hair. My eyelids drooped until finally I shut them again.

“What did you think of her moaning?” he asked.

“Oh God. Go to sleep. What type of question is that?”

“I’m just saying. Did it seem like she was faking it?”

Her face didn’t seem like she liked it, but who knows if that even mattered.

I shrugged. “I don’t think she’s faking. Do you?”

“I don’t know. She stops to answer the phone all the time. The only time she doesn’t answer the phone is the few times she’s done other things for me. I’ve yet to come inside her and she’s never had an orgasm. It’s been like three months. Either she’s messing around with someone else, or she’s really bored with what I’m doing and faking it.”

Oh I know. She’s taken the term cock tease to the tenth power.

“Why would she fake it?”

“I’m up for the Heisman. Everybody’s spoiling me and pretending to be my best friend … well except you of course. You’ve remained the same.”

“I doubt she’s faking just because you’re up for an award.”

“The Heisman is not just an award. I’ll be the twelfth junior in history to get one.”

I smirked. “I think you’ve mentioned that to me twelve times. Even crazier is the fact that you keep talking like you’ve already won.”

“Well Coach thinks it’s mine. Others do too, including Cynthia. It’s all she talks about.”

I elbowed him in the stomach. “She’s not faking. I really doubt she is.”

“Why?”

Because you lick her center like a skilled artist paints his masterpiece.

I cleared my throat. “I just doubt it. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“Because you’re horny?”

“Insanely horny.”

“What type of person stops having sex to answer the phone?”

“One that is not enjoying themselves, probably.” Annoyance laced his voice. “I wish she would just tell me what she likes. I would do anything she needed. We could use toys or something. I don’t care.”

I snorted. “Oh goodness. From what I witnessed tonight, it looked like Cynthia was having a good time.”

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