Her Online Addiction Read online

  I pretty much need challenge in my life, sadly, or I get bored. When someone puts me down, I find that the most inspiring reason to dig deep and prove them wrong. I am friendly to most, but that doesn’t make us friends. I keep my circle tight due to lingering trust issues and a need to have my own space. At my core I’m an introvert. I can be emotionally shut down and switched off at times, I’ve had past boyfriends say things like I’m an ‘Ice Queen’, I need to be softer and more loving or more open. Lovey-dovey, well that just isn’t me! People being too nice creep me out and put me on guard. If you’re pissed at me, tell me so, I can respect that. I guess I’m an emotional hard ass? I’ve had to be though, to survive childhood abuse. I’m working on calming it down, but it’s a process. I see the expression of feelings as weakness and weakness gets you hurt. I’m just an avoider or being hurt. That and I suffer pangs of self-loathing and a lack of self-esteem at times. But hey, we all have issues! Whatever I am, Derek seems to be lured into me as much as I am to him!

  I place my bra on the counter, grab the sheet draped around me roll it up and sit it on top of the lid on clothes basket. I need to pee and while I sit on the toilet, I see my bag sitting under the towel rack. Thank god! I finish and flush. I open the glass shower door and switch the water on and wait for it to heat. I slip in under the water and wait for the warmth to soak into my muscles. They greedily drink in the comfort; I lean my hands over the top of the shower glass and stretch and arch my back so the steamy water can hit me and bring relief to the tightness.

  “Are you ok, Trinity? You’ve been in here a while.” Derek’s voice startles me from my semi daze, I can see through the fog he has opened the door enough to see through. He’s totally perving on me I think even though there is steam billowing around me like a blanket, that’s some shelter from his hungry gaze I guess, I act cool, nothing he hasn’t already seen even though this situation is very strange.

  “Sure, just trying to get me shit together, you know?” I respond.

  He smiles “Yeah… So, you need me to wash your back for you?” Ha! Cheeky.

  “You wish,” I respond as I flick some water at him over the top of the shower.

  “Hey, you get me wet, I’m coming in,” he threatens with a smirk that is almost daring me. For half a second I think about splashing him but am still feeling weird and my stomach is growling.

  “If I wasn’t so hungry, I’d take that dare,” I shoot back with a cheeky little grin of my own.

  “You keep looking at me like that, I won’t need you to splash Me,” he says with all seriousness. Oh shit! I stand upright and put my hands up in surrender.

  “Ok-ok. I’m almost done, anyway.” He smiles in reply.

  “Yeah, mercy for your sexy self this one time, won’t happen again, Baby Cakes,” he says with a wink and shuts the door.

  I’m alone again. Baby Cakes? Honestly, am I missing something here? I grab some liquid body wash, chai and vanilla scented and squirt it out onto my hands, standing out of the water stream I lather the suds all over my body before rinsing off. I find shampoo and conditioner and cleanse my hair. There is nothing for my face, so I just use the body soap, it’s organic I note, brownie points for you Derek.

  Organics and nutrition are near and dear to my heart. I shut the water off and step out onto the plush, soft ruby red mat, and grab a matching towel and start drying my body before wrapping it around my hair turban style. I lift my jeans and see my black satin panties. I bend and put them on and repeat the same with my jeans. I grab my black lacy bra and wrap it around behind me to hook up the clasps. I thread my arms through the straps and position it around my breasts. I pick up my black suede corset style top, it’s very Friday night, plain, plunging V neckline, really making ‘the girls’ stand out. Shoestring straps just wide enough to cover my bra. Threaded Purple ribbon zigzagging down the back. Snug, just showing enough without showing too much. Dangerous. Maybe not for Saturday lunches with flirty internet hotties who’s bed you mysteriously end up in with no recollection of events leading up to it.

  I grab my black leather bag from the floor and sit it on the counter. I remove the towel from my head and place it over the towel rail. My hair is half dry already. I run my wide-toothed comb through it from my bag. I grab my deodorant stick and apply it to my underarms. I’d have died if I didn’t have some deodorant, the rest I could have managed without. I have stink paranoia! I’m starting to feel alive, now to work on looking alive. I wipe my hand across the mirror to see my face, it’s flushed slightly from the warm water. Above the toilet is a little slim window with horizontal venetians, much like his bedroom. I lift them away from the window and open it to clear the steam a bit. I dig through my bag and locate my make-up pouch. I apply some bronzer to my cheeks and lids of my eyes, then adding eye liner and mascara. Much better. Before adding some clear lip gloss, I dig out my mini toothbrush and look around for toothpaste. God, him stepping into that shower with my un-brushed teeth! Disaster averted!

  Inside my bag, I find my sterling silver geometric drop earrings the squares all link to form a diamond shape, I slide them into my ears. Ok Trin, best you’re gonna get. I’m pleased with my efforts, my hair is damp and starting to dry wavy, it’s not tragic looking, but not how I prefer it. Oh well, it will have to do. Be strong girl, go face the music... I walk from the small bathroom to the bedroom, there is a chair in the corner behind the door, black with a large back, monochrome taste, just the odd splash of colour here and there, but mostly blacks, whites and silvers. Very masculine and simple. I sit my bag on the chair and head out the door and turn left, the same direction Derek popped his head out before. I wonder where my black strap heels are, I didn’t see them anywhere, but I’m getting so hungry I don’t even really care now.

  As soon as I turn out the door, I see a small round four-seater timber table at the end of the corridor. As I walk towards it, I see two plates and two glasses, a bowl of mixed berries, a jug of what looks like juice with ice cubes floating in it and some red napkins through silver napkin rings. Wow, how much effort has he gone to? I’m feeling way more nervous and wonder how I might survive this lunch.

  I approach the table, and just left is a small kitchen nook where Derek is getting something out of the oven which is just behind a counter running parallel to it. He bends back up with a plate of stacked French toast and sees me standing there at the table. I love French toast and berries, I’m sure I’ve mentioned it to him before, more points for you Derek!

  “Hey, there’s my gorgeous girl.” My? Ok, my level of confusion has just risen further, I need to ask a few questions. I know we talk in our texts to each other as lovers, but it’s not real. We haven’t slept together, yet ‘my gorgeous girl’ sounds like commitment? Ummmm, what did I miss? Was there a Vegas style shotgun wedding? Doubtful…

  “Hi,” I say and smile nervously, “Can I help with anything? You seem to have gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “No trouble. I told you I can cook. Sit,” he says bringing the plate over. I do as he says and sit. Our chairs are set across from each other, oh great, in the direct line of sight, no dodging any bullets here. This was easier when we weren’t in the same room! He heads back to the counter and brings back some pure maple syrup and a small tub of cream. I’m taken aback, is this the real Derek? Not rock-and-roll coolness, erotica god with well-endowed manhood, a silver tongue and bossy bedroom manner, but fully domesticated and attentive? I feel a tremble start to build in my lower lip from the forced smile I have been holding and bite my lip, so he doesn’t notice.

  “You ok?” he says looking directly at me now with a slight furrow to his brows, he is sitting at eye level across from me. I take a deep breath, I can’t do this, I must ask, I need to know what is going on. I’m scared to just say what I think, but enough is enough, out with it!

  “Well... I’m kind of freaking out. Last night, well, I’m not remembering much about it to be honest,” I say lifting my fork and stabbing it gently through a piece o
f the French toast and bringing it over to my plate, I figure I can look calmer being busy doing something productive, that and I’m famished. He chuckles at me and I look up at him. I feel almost annoyed, like I’m being kept out of the loop, but I can’t be mad. For whatever reason, he didn’t take advantage of me. Brownie points there. As well as laundering my clothes, big brownie points there. And now he has cooked me French toast with everything possible to add to them. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ok, I don’t cry, that’s not me, and losing one’s memory from a night of drinking is no laughing matter. I can handle my alcohol, so what the fuck?

  “Hmmm, I’m not surprised... You were wasted... Very unladylike,” he says in bursts with his folk in hand, up covering his mouth as he chews on his mouthful.

  I go for the fruit and dollop a spoonful on my plate and follow it up with cream and start tucking in. After I swallow the first mouthful, I look at him and say, “The last thing I remember is being at a bar in Darling Harbour with Alyssa, Merrick, Izabella, Niko and Flynn.” My usual crowd of besties.

  “We were doing tequila shots and there was music playing. That’s it.” I shrug and look at my plate and go for another mouthful. He really had done a great job; this breakfast is scrumptious.

  “Seriously?” he says going for another piece from the stack shaking his head mocking me.

  “Derek! You’re killing me here! And, where are we?” I ask in a more serious tone trying to warn I’m not into jokes about my shenanigans at the moment. I stop eating and wait for him to respond.

  “Aww, Baby cakes, welcome to my world. Wanting to fuck you all night and having to wait is killing me. So, we’re even… Where do you think you are?” He tucks into his food grinning in amusement he’s toying with me and enjoying my torment! Asshat! Keep this shit going and you won’t be getting a god damn thing out of me, French toast or not! Ugh, try to remember to breathe I tell myself.

  “Well… I live in Sydney; you live in Brisbane. I know I’m at your place, but how?” I push berries onto my folk and resume eating in the hopes he can’t see my frustration with his coy conversation getting to me.

  “Do you know how sexy you are when you’re mad?” he says curling his lips into a devious smile, seemingly impressed with himself.

  “Alright, that’s it! Where are my shoes?” I push up from the table and throw my napkin beside my plate. All jest drops from Derek’s face immediately. I shoot him a glare and stand moving the chair and start to storm off toward the bedroom. If he thinks me being mad is cute, better strap yourself in buddy, it’s going to be a bumpy ride! I might be a good-time girl, for the most part, but I’m plagued with triggers from my past relationships and am feisty underneath.

  “Trinity, wait...” I hear the change of tone with an edge of apology and panic, “Stop...” then I hear his chair shift behind me. I don’t care, I’ve suppressed my urge to panic since becoming conscious, and now he has given me exactly what I need, an excuse to run!

  ~ Chapter 3 ~

  The flight risk

  As I round the bedroom doorway and head towards my bag, he catches my arm and halts me back towards him.

  Like he is trying to approach a cornered animal, he cautiously speaks in a gentle tone “Trinity, I’m sorry. Please don’t… I’ll tell you everything you want to know, just… don’t go…” his gaze, pleading, penetrates my gruff and melts my defensiveness away. When my fire is all but gone, it occurs to me that Derek is just inches in front of me, dark and brooding. Deviously delectable. And touching me. I look down at his hand on me, his warmth against my forearm and an electric shiver runs through me. He keeps his steading grip on me, perhaps to secure me, a last desperate hope to have a win against me feistiness. My breathing is still heavy from the adrenaline that flooded through me moments ago.

  “Stay…” he appeals to me again, desire bubbling out through hooded eyes, he closes the gap between us, gently caressing both my arms now and I feel the sexual tension between us rapidly escalating. I nod my head slightly in surrender perhaps exhaling deliberately in an effort to calm my ragged breathing in a silent statement of ok. Our eyes lock and the dynamic between us shifts. His pupils hide in the shade of his dark brown irises, but his intentions are in plain sight, he tilts his head towards mine and I am suddenly aware that I can smell him. God, he smells divine, musky and masculine. My face flushes with heat and he is still looking at me but with a rawness that stirs me inside physically.

  Finally, he says “I have waited so long for you to be real.” Oh shit. I close my eyes as his words ring through me. I know he means our on and off sexting. It wasn’t real, not really. Yes, I’m real, but talking about touching me, tasting me, having me in all sorts of ways is not the same as being with me. As intimate as it can be without any attachment. Less complicated than fuck buddies. I swallow hard. I thought it was meaningless. Safe. I open my eyes and meet his eyes and without hesitation his hands slide up my arms to my face and his lips are on me, slowly yet possessively and I feel myself burning inwardly. It catches me off guard how seductive his mouth feels brushing over mine, I want to resist, but I’m getting drunk again, this time on him. I moan into his mouth and slide my hands around his waist as he moves one hand to my lower back and one into my hair, his body pushes into mine and I grip his back as our kiss rapidly becomes frantic. He licks softly into my mouth and I think I could melt. He tastes sweet like syrup, his facial hair lightly grazing around my chin. This is the sexiest kiss I’ve ever had, fuelled by twelve months of escalating flirtation and promises that have gone unfulfilled, until now.

  He tugs my head back with the grip he has on my hair and slowly starts kissing down to my exposed neck. I hear him growl softly in approval and am now aware he is hard.

  “You smell delicious, I could eat you up,” he says, nibbling, rasping his teeth from my neck to my collarbone. I moan in defeat. I can almost hear him grin. He knows what I like, what turns me on, it’s cheating. There is no discovering each other’s desires through trial and error, he is visually very familiar with my body and has intimate details of what I like and what I want sexually, I have all but given him the ultimate roadmap to making me his, without leaving myself an escape route. He keeps a tight grip in my hair, sliding his other hand up to my breast, squeezing and thumbing my nipple as he brings his lips back to mine. I want him. I’m completely ready for him. With our history, the fire was already smouldering without his seductive caressing. I grip his ass, drawing him in closer, rocking my hips to stroke myself along his erection, which is bulging against jeans.

  He starts walking me forward while I savour his lips, before he abruptly breaks away. I almost feel wounded like I am being denied my favourite meal, after only the first bite.

  “Turn around,” he directs me. I drop my arms reluctantly and turn to see the wall near the doorway. “Hands up on the wall,” he commands, and I turn my head slightly.

  “Don’t question me, just do it,” he instructs. So, I move to the wall and position my hands up about head height and lean slightly against the wall. “Now spread ‘em,” he says as he taps the tip of his foot between my ankles.

  “Are you frisking me officer?” I quip cheekily in amusement.

  “Well, you have been a very bad girl,” he retorts in a low huskiness, his lips lightly brushing my ear. I tilt my head into him welcoming his contact. He moves his hand through my hair, slowly raking his fingers across my reactive skin, gathering it in a bunch exposing my neck and shoulder. He slides his other hand down to my hips, gripping as he presses his erection into the curve of my ass.

  “Oh, Trinity, you have the nicest ass,” he returns his attention to my neck, every nip sends the most exquisite sensations rippling through me, my neck being nuzzled is a hot spot for me, and he knows damn well what he’s doing.

  The hand he has on my hip starts moving possessively over my body while he alternates between nibbling and biting my neck and shoulder. I whimper in delight. That fucker! I decide to sway my ass against hi
s firmness, only fair I figure. The moment his hand heads south and commences rubbing me intimately through my jeans, is the moment I want to turn around and dive on him, but I know this game. This is all the words we have exchanged, back and forth, the slow, torturous tease. My hands start to slide down the wall as I get lost in my arousal.

  “You need to be naked now,” he states as he abruptly releases me, robbing me of the contact I crave. He grabs the bottom of my top and slowly raises it up, and I lift my arms to accommodate its removal as he reaches them. It drops quietly on the floor. Then his hands return to me, running greedily over my torso before sliding up to my breasts. He squeezes firmly over my bra and almost growls as he drags his goatee stubble along my shoulder blade, tickling my skin which is enjoying the hedonistic combination of sensations moving over my body. My back being ticked is another hotspot for me. Slowly and playfully he runs his warm hands back down my stomach drawing me back into him again. It’s working, this game, I am ready. I can feel moisture building between my legs. He unhooks my jeans buttons, one at a time and I shift my feet to allow him to slide them off easily. He slips his hands through the belt loops and drags them down steadily, firmly taking his time to touch me all the way down. I step out one leg at a time. Slowly.

  “Keep them spread. Hands back on the wall.” What the hell?