I find coding relaxing. It’s easy to throw on some music and get lost in it. Plus it’s helping me get a website up and running for the store.
Unlike with his previous responses, her phone went silent then for over a minute.
Sounds like a good fit for you :)
“... HTML4, where the element supported a variety of attributes for styling. In HTML5, all attributes are deprecated, and must be styled leveraging CSS. This is on your slides, but highlight it. It will be on the exam.”
“Eesh.” Cami gave her head a shake and stabbed the off button. As cute as she found Des and his emojis, text-flirting with him wasn’t going to get her through the summer semester. Besides, she wouldn’t see him until tomorrow afternoon. Shecouldn’t spend the next twenty-four hours squealing over her phone instead of getting work done. She could visualize the letter from the scholarship committee now:Your GPA has dropped to an unacceptable level. We have been informed that this is due to your inability to keep from texting your not-boyfriend. You have allowed orgasms to ruin your life, and, as such, we have been forced to revoke your scholarship for the remainder of your time at SMC. Sincerely, Scholarship People.
She couldn’t take notes when she was fretting about orgasms getting her scholarship yanked, either, so she excused herself from the lecture hall for a moment to splash water from the fountain onto her face, then returned to her seat. She was determined not to think about Des for the rest of the day.
14
It had only been a couple of days since Des had last seen Cami, but the way his body craved her presence made it feel like months. He’d never even had her, never touched her outside of their agreement, but he still hummed for her—a full-body sensation that was as unwelcome as it was distracting.
It was Tuesday afternoon, and Cami got off work early, so Des didn’t waste any time getting ready for their toy fest. He didn’t know what else to call it. Calling it a session sounded too much like the kind of thing you had to pay for. In any case, he prepared himself by jerking off in the shower.
The memories of the last time he’d seen Cami seemed to creep into his mind whenever he let his guard down. He’d gone for his morning jog and wound up remembering the way she gasped his name. When he’d made lunch, he replayed the vision of her thighs trembling when she came. It was maddening, and he’d spent most of the weekend semi-hard as a result.
The ride to the store was a quick one, and probably the last moment of peace he’d have until Cami left his place later that night. She locked the shop’s front door and climbed onto the bike behind him, an unmarked paper bag in her hand. Sheclasped her hands around his waist, clutching that bag. The soft floral scent of her shampoo mixed with the salty Santa Monica air, sending his thoughts into a tormented tizzy. That same fragrance was permanently embedded into his pillowcases, and had been the source of his unrelenting morning hard-ons. He tamped down the unmistakable tightening of his jeans and set off for his place.
It wasn’t the nicest or most expensive house on Ocean Park Boulevard, but even the cheapest place on that street was upwards of a million dollars. When he’d bought it, he hadn’t been looking for anything flashy, just a home he could be comfortable in, in a good area close to the beach. He might have continued renting if it hadn’t been drilled into his head growing up that renting was a waste of money.Why pay someone else’s mortgage when you could be earning equity in a place of your own?his parents had droned.
He’d had women over before, but not more than a few times. Never long enough to bother worrying much about his décor, despite what Olivia and his mother said. It had no personality. It wasn’t inviting enough. It needed a woman’s touch. All a bunch of nonsense. Still, when he parked the bike and led Cami into his house for the second time, he couldn’t help but wonder what she thought of it. He hadn’t thought about it before, when he’d been half-hard and his pulse had been racing with anticipation. This time, he was calmer. This time, there would be a whole dinner to get through before Cami’s clothes came off.
The tantalizing sizzle of steak wafted toward the entry from the kitchen as they removed their shoes.
“You left dinner cooking?” Cami frowned.
“Oh, no.” He took the brown bag from her and started toward the bedroom to stash the bag for later use. “Sam’s making dinner.”
“Sam?” she repeated.
“Say hi, Sam!” he called, ducking through the bedroom door.
He plopped the bag onto the dresser, and from the kitchen he heard, “Hi, Sam!”
“Very funny.” He led Cami, who’d stalled in the hallway, into the kitchen. “Cami, this is Sam. She keeps things tidy around here.”
“And sometimes, I feed him.” Sam winked.
On the other side of the counter, Sam was frying asparagus. Her graying brown hair was pulled back from her face, and her pale cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove. Sam had been with him for nearly two years. She was in her mid-forties, a single mom with a teenage son, and worked as a housekeeper for hire. She came in to clean up his place once a week and made dinner for him. If she wanted supplementary cash, she made extra food and froze it for him to defrost later in the week. It was helpful when he was too busy at the office to cook.
“If you want to take off, Sam, I’m sure I can finish up,” he said as he pulled out a chair at the dining table for Cami to sit. He crossed into the adjoining kitchen to appraise the state of the food.
“You just want to take credit for my cooking,” Sam teased.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never get away with it. Nobody can cook a steak like you.”
“Hush, you kiss-ass.” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes at him, then wiped her hands on the tea towel she’d tossed over her shoulder. “Just let me chop these veggies for you, and I’ll leave you to your date.” As Des uncorked a bottle of wine to pour a glass for Cami, Sam looked over at her. “For a guy who knows his way around a scalpel, the man can’t chop veggies to save a life.”
Des stilled. He could feel Cami’s eyes lock on his shoulders as she processed Sam’s comment.
“What do you mean?” she asked Sam after a moment.
“He chops them from the stem up, like some kind of freak,” Sam continued, oblivious. He stepped around her to pass Cami her wine glass. “It’s just better to let me?—”
“She’s referring to the fact that I dropped out of medical school,” he explained.
