Rubble: Devil's Rose #12

Chapter 4: Alice Owens

I don't know how long it's been since I left my house, but at least it's a weekend, so it doesn't matter. I have enough food to last me a week because sometimes I get into these modes that I can't break, so I just have to move through it.

I don't have the emotional bandwidth all of the time to fight my inner thoughts and get out of my apartment, so it's best that I be prepared for those moments. Usually Major can't get me out of these modes, but I can't even look at him in the face.

I can't even think about what he would think of me for asking his best friend for sex. He would kill me if he found out. He actually wouldn't, but my anxiety thinks that he absolutely would. He would disown me as his sister (no he wouldn't).

I hear a knock on my door, and the voice that appears after, begging me to open up is not one that I was ever expecting to hear again.

"Nick, is that you?"

"Yeah, sunshine, it's me. I need you to open this door, okay? I wanna see you," he pleads, rapping his knuckles on the door again as if to make sure that I know he comes in peace.

"I can't look at you," I say through the gap between the bottom of the door and my floor.

"Are you on the ground?" Nick questions after a long pause.

"It's comforting," I whisper through the gap, staring at his Vans with squinted eyes.

He mumbles something that I don't understand before lying on the floor in the middle of the hallway.

"Why can't you look at me?" he asks, needing more information.

I just try to focus on anything besides his large body covering the hallway from my view.

"Because of the last time we saw each other," I answer and my face cheeks turn into the color of tomatoes.

"The sex thing? Oh, sunshine, I couldn't care less about that," he tries to reassure.

But I so do. I haven't been able to get over it. Hence the isolation.

"Doesn't matter. I still can't look at you."

"How about you let me in, but you close your eyes?"

"Why do you wanna get into my home so bad?"

"Cause I know you. And your living conditions are shit right now. Let me help you."

I take a glance around my apartment to find that he is so right. I've been living in a pig sty for the last forty-eight hours. I guess if he wants to clean he can.

I get up off the floor and fling open my apartment door. He lays there on the hallway floor, gazing up at me with those stunned and gorgeous green eyes of his.

Oh, shit, I looked at him. Well, that didn't last long.

"Good to see ya, sunshine."

He's so handsome I think I'm about to die.

"I still want you to fuck me," I blurt, the intrusive thought exiting me before I even fully process that I was thinking it.

"Goddamn, Alice," Nick grunts as he gets up off the ground, "at least offer me a drink first."

The tears stream down my cheeks without another thought, and I invite him in as I cry. He brushes the wetness away from my face, unphased. I close and lock the door behind him, just letting myself have this moment of pure embarrassment because it literally cannot get worse than this.

I've been beating myself up over the thing I just said for days, and then I say it again, so now I have to start over. These are the times when I think that I might just be better off locking myself away in a cabin in the woods where no one can ever find me again.

He doesn't say much as we clean up my place.

It's more me profusely apologizing for being such a horny woman, and that I don't mean to make him uncomfortable. Which probably makes the whole situation worse. Expect all that I can do is keep on talking as if it's helping.

"Enough," Nick grumbles to me, pointing to the couch once my whole apartment is done getting its makeover.

I get the thing that he's communicating and make my way to the couch.

"Alice-" he's never said my name like that, so soft yet so firm "-the reason I won't fuck you is because I had told myself I wanted something more serious. But I'm giving up on that. I can't fucking take you like this."

"Don't just have sex with me because I wore you down. That's a terrible reason, and it makes me feel like I'm forcing you," I admitted.

"It's not only you who could use some sex. It's a win-win," Nick concedes.

"What if we catch feelings?" I question, needing to know what he thinks about something that could reasonably happen, knowing me.

"Then we catch feelings, and we go from there. No pressure on either of us," he explains.

"Okay, that sounds like a good deal."

"Good girl," Nick asserts, sending a wave of heat down my body, "now, I want you to take off your panties."

"Oh my god," I practically whimper out of excitement, horniness, and some nervousness, "I haven't shaved in a few days."

"I couldn't give a fuck. I want them off now, legs spread. I want to see you, sunshine."

This is the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.

Nick drops down to his knees on my living room floor.

Nope, that's the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.

Thank god that I locked the door behind us.

And that I don't have a roommate.

Without another moment's hesitation, I do as he says, letting him see me as much as I want to hide myself. My nipples are hard against my bra, and I can feel the wetness around my vagina entrance and clit.

I can hear Nick's grumble from the depths of his throat, and it sends a visible shiver down my spine. He moves closer to me but not close enough where he could actually put his mouth on anything. He's just close enough to touch me with his hands.

His fingers glide over my calf as he lifts my legs and places them on his broad and stable shoulders.

"Comfortable?" he questions, his way of asking for consent, which I wholeheartedly give.

He yanks my legs so my back is further down the back couch cushion and my pussy is right in near his mouth. I can feel my clit throbbing in need as I feel the heat of his breath against the sensitive area that hasn't felt anything but my fingers and vibrator in quite a while.

A whimper, involuntary, exits my mouth as his hot tongue lands on my clit. He plays with it perfectly, and I quickly have to stop my brain from thinking about all the women that he's previously done this for.

It's none of my business, and honestly, the experience makes him better. I don't have to guide him through anything. He reads me so well already.

My thighs tighten around his head, and I can't help but apologize. It's the only thing that comes naturally to me.

"Crush me, baby. I can handle it."

My clit throbs under his tongue, which causes him to smirk. He nips at the area, shock waves hitting me full force, and I want to moan and curse him out at the same time. He works his tongue around my pussy like a master, sucking and changing paces when he knows it's time.

Not one particular method of pussy eating works for every woman, at least that's what I know of, so I thought I would have to at least guide him in a certain direction, but there's nothing that he needs from me.

He just takes matters into his own hands, so much so that for the first time in a long time, I let myself and my control go. I don't want to think about anything else, feel anything else, besides what's happening right here. There's no need for me to.

And once I give up that control, my orgasm ripples through me fiercely. Like my body needed permission from myself. The moans that fill up my apartment are so loud I get scared that someone heard.