Bad Habits

[ 1 ]

Simon Riley does not date, and everyone who knows him is aware of that.

It has been years since he was in a serious relationship. He didn't want to commit because of the way he lived his life, which was always consumed by work and left him with little time for his personal life.

Of course, he was still a man with urges and once in a while, on chilly nights like these, when his bed was empty and he couldn't fall asleep, he yearned for that sweet sensation of release to wash away the flood of emotions that had built up within him. The rhythmic sounds of passion, mingled with the intoxicating scent of desire, would clear his mind and grant him the respite he desperately sought. Only then could he could close his eyes and fall into a deep slumber.

He could have gone out to a pub, picked up a random pretty woman and brought her home. But Simon despised overcrowded places, loud music, heavy air weighing him down and pointless chatter that was mandatory before inviting someone back to his place. Fortunately, he didn't have to get out of bed, and there was a way to solve his problem without leaving the house.

He fetched his phone and unlocked it, blinking a few times when the bright light blinded him. He scrolled through his address book until he found your number. It was late, and he didn't want to call, in case you were asleep, so he decided that a simple message would have to suffice: 

'You up?'

It was 3:00 AM, and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't expecting to get a reply. But after a few minutes, his phone vibrated, alerting him he had a new notification.

'Yes.'

'Come over?'

'I'll be there in 30.'

Simon met you a long time ago, in a pub, back when he used to like going out and spending time socializing, drinking and flirting with women. 

He wasn't sure why you approached him then, but you looked incredible. The dress you wore clung to your curves. Your hair was curled and bounced every time you turned your head, making Simon want to run his fingers through it. 

He, also, remembered your red lipstick and that he spent way too much time staring at your lips, letting his fantasies take over his mind, as he imagined you on your knees, in front of him, giving him that innocent look of yours as your lips parted and you wrapped them around him.

He was pretty sure that you noticed him staring because he wasn't very discreet about it, and he was partly convinced that it was the reason you agreed to leave the bar with him and go back to his place. That night ended with your dress on his bedroom floor, and you in his bed under him. 

The next morning he woke up, his bed was empty, but you had left him your phone number on his nightstand, along with a glass of water.

Ever since then, whenever Simon would come home, and whenever he had time to spare, he texted you - you never declined to come. 

Both of you would spring into action as soon as you stepped inside. The clothes would be discarded and you would shut out the world for a while, losing yourselves in each other's arms.

After you were finished, there never were any conversations. You two barely exchanged any words. And sometimes you would linger around for a bit, take a shower and then get a glass of water, but it never was for too long, because you eventually would dress up and leave.

You never stayed the night.

There were no strings. No expectations and no awkward talks. This situationship worked for both of you. 

Someone knocked on Simon's door, which jolted him out of his musings. He pulled himself from bed. His gaze lingered on the mirror as he walked by it on his way to open the door. He was wearing grey sweatpants, he had no shirt on and his hair was dishevelled.

"Hey," You said when he opened the door. Your lips curled into a smile as he stepped to the side, letting you through. "Couldn't fall asleep?"

"Something like that."

Simon waited for you to kick off your shoes and put down your purse before he pushed you against the wall, entangling your body in his arms. His hands were drawn to your body right away, as his lips collided with yours. 

There was no use in having pointless conversations because you both knew why he invited you over.

As he scooped you up, your arms wrapped over his shoulders and his fingers curled around your thighs, pushing your sundress up. His lips never left yours, as he carried you to the bedroom. Your back crashing into the mattress when he lowered you, immediately getting on top. 

He had missed your touch. He had missed you. You knew what he liked and what to do, and the fact that you weren't scared to take charge drove him wild. The smell of your sweet perfume enchanted him, and he wished he could pause time so he could savour moments like this for a little longer.

The clothes were ripped off and thrown all over the floor. Both of you were in a rush and running out of breath. Within seconds, the bedroom became a symphony of passionate moans and desperate whimpers, their echoes reverberating off the walls.

Although it seemed like you were locked in each other's embrace forever, eventually you both fell back onto the soft mattress. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and passion lingering between the tangled sheets.

Simon sat up, grabbing the cigarettes off the nightstand and placing one in between his lips. His eyes trailed down your body, your curves visible even under the sheet. He never told you, because there was no point in doing so, but he truly believed that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. And as you lay there, occasionally glancing at him, offering him a small smile before lightly shaking your head and turning away, he thought that a man who gets to have you, who gets to call you his, will be the luckiest person on the earth.

"I should go. Gotta get up early tomorrow." You said and rolled out of the bed.

"Mhm." He inhaled a drag, keeping the smoke in his lungs before lazily blowing it out. 

"Can't let my boyfriend wake up in an empty bed."

"Boyfriend?" Simon's back stiffened and he sat up straight, furrowing his brows.

Not once you have mentioned that you were in a relationship, not that he bothered asking. Nevertheless, it was a surprise to him. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care. If you wanted to date someone, that was a decision you were free to make. But even if he ignored the uneasy feeling in his stomach, making him feel jealous, the envy persisted.

"So he doesn't mind if you fuck other men?"

"I don't just go around, sucking off the entire neighbourhood." You rolled your eyes at him. Any other woman would have been angry and refused to speak with him after that question, but not you. "I just fuck you... and him now."

Simon wasn't sure what to make of this interaction, but you didn't let him dwell on it for long and kept talking while getting dressed.

"We have only been dating for a few months. It's not too serious yet, but I like him, a lot, I think." You then turned to him. "That actually reminds me... Don't text me anymore."

His heart dropped, but he just nodded his head. He knew that someday all these hookups would have come to an end, but he didn't expect today to be the last time.

"Call me instead. I don't want my boyfriend to find any suspicious messages on the phone." 

"Ah, yeah. Sure." He nodded, feeling a little too relieved to know that this wasn't the last time he would see you. "Well, I have a whole month before I return to work, so expect a lot of calls from me.

You giggled, your fingers running through your hair, attempting to tidy it up.

"Don't go overboard, Riley."

"I can't make any promises, love."