Meeting The New Housemate

I’m not entirely sure how I ended up in the same bed as Patrick. Neither of us intended for it to happen, but we were both in need of affection, and the drinks we had earlier certainly played a part in our decision. I’m still uncertain if I’m happy about what transpired between us, but at that moment, it felt right.

I shuddered as his fingertips caressed the exposed skin of my back, tracing a tantalizing path from the base of my neck down to the small of my back. With eyes closed and teeth gently biting my lower lip, I lay prone, my hands gripping the crisp white sheets beneath me.

His touch wandered further, his palm grazing my bare bottom before settling on my thigh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from me. As his hand inched closer to my most intimate parts – still aching, dripping, and sensitive – anticipation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the remnants of our earlier passion.

Leaning in close, his voice husky with desire, he murmured, "One more time?" With a weak smile, I nodded in agreement, still riding the high of our previous encounter. "One more time," I whispered back, surrendering once more to the intoxicating allure of his touch.

He deftly turned me over, exposing my eager nipples to his hungry gaze. Patrick hovered above me, draped in the same sheet that covered my trembling form. His eyes locked with mine, a soft smile gracing his lips as he descended.

With a tender kiss, he initiated a tantalizing journey down my cheek and along the curve of my neck. Each touch of his lips sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a primal desire within. As his lips worked their magic, his hand found its place on my bare breast, his touch gentle yet commanding. I craved more, yearning for a passion that burned hotter, fiercer.

Even when we were dating, Patrick was always a gentle lover, attuned to my every need. But hidden beneath my facade of compliance lay a hunger for something more intense, more urgent—a desire I dared not voice for fear of judgment.

In the depths of my soul, I longed for the fiery embrace of passion unbridled, yet I remained silent, bound by shame and inhibition. And so, I surrendered to Patrick's tender ministrations, silently yearning for the release that eluded me.

I closed my eyes, my body arching in anticipation as his lips trailed lower, setting my skin ablaze with desire. With each tender caress, he ignited a fierce longing within me, drawing forth a desperate moan of yearning.

His hands found their way to my aching breasts, gentle yet firm as they teased and tantalized. Frustration bubbled within me, craving a touch more primal, a passion more intense. But Patrick, ever the gentleman, persisted in his tender ministrations, softly grazing my nipples as I yearned for more.

As his tongue traced a tantalizing path along my stomach, I quivered with anticipation, yearning for his touch where I truly craved it. Yet, bound by my own inhibitions, I dared not speak my desires aloud. With a gasp, I tangled my fingers in his hair, hoping against hope that today would be different, that today he would explore me fully, that today – after a long gap, he would eat me out like I want to be devoured. But alas, his attentions veered elsewhere, trailing down my thighs with a fervent hunger that only stoked the flames of my desire. Even when we were seeing each other, he never went oral on me, nor did he let me be.

Once again, Patrick and I had sex. Patrick has always been a considerate lover, always attentive to my needs and feelings. It may sound foolish to complain about such thoughtfulness, but deep within me, a restless longing stirred. I've been accustomed to being treated with tenderness and affection, but now I yearn for something more primal, more daring. Yet, Patrick's gentle nature holds him back—he has always been too sweet, too hesitant to explore the depths of passion that I crave.

When we were dating, I never vocalized my desires to him, afraid of making him uncomfortable or straying from his comfort zone. His aversion to what he perceives as "freaky" sex only adds to my hesitation, leaving my desires unspoken and unfulfilled. I found it hard to voice any dissatisfaction, especially when he always ensures I reach climax. Though he refrains from certain intimate acts, I've never felt unsatisfied. Patrick possesses a skillful touch that never fails to bring me to climax—a testament to his prowess as a lover. And ultimately, that's all I seek in our clandestine encounters.

After a few rounds of sex, I snuggled beneath the comfy sheets while the air conditioner cooled the room. Patrick covered me up and gave me a kiss on the cheek before heading to the shower.

We had never done anything like this before. It was all so new to me. Since breaking up with Patrick, I hadn’t been with another man or even gone out for a drink with one. But tonight was different. Atlas's words hurt me deeply, and I needed a distraction, so I reached out to Patrick.

We went out for a drink, and as the night wore on, we both drank more than we should have. One thing led to another, and we ended up renting a room. I felt a rush of wildness, a sense of adventure that I had never experienced before.

Even in the throes of passion, I didn't find the spark I was so desperately seeking. I don’t think Patrick felt it either. After it was over, an awkward silence settled between us as we both came to terms with what we had done. The realization that we were trying to fill a void neither of us could truly satisfy hung heavily in the air.

I couldn’t lie—I was worried about what was coming next. I didn’t know what was going on in Patrick’s mind. He was always hard to read. When he came out of the shower, I waited anxiously for him to speak. Knowing myself, if Patrick asked to resume our relationship, I wouldn’t be able to say no, even though my heart wasn’t with him. The thought made me nervous about what he might propose.

He sat beside me, and for a few minutes, we just sat there, side by side, fully clothed and enveloped in complete silence. As the quiet started to weigh heavily on me, I decided to break it. “What we did...” my soft voice trailed off.

Patrick heaved a sigh and finished the thought for me. “Didn’t feel right.”

My eyes widened as I turned to look at him. He gave me a soft smile, and I instantly felt a weight lift off my shoulders. He chuckled quietly and said, “Let’s be honest, Harp. We were never meant to be together. As much as we care for each other, we aren’t in love. I don’t know what we were trying to do together, but let’s just say it can’t go on?”

It was strange. Patrick and I were so similar, yet we couldn’t feel a genuine spark for each other. Perhaps what they say is true: opposites attract. In our case, we were too much alike. I couldn’t help but smile gratefully at him. “I don’t think it can,” I gently agreed.

I exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. “It’s sad, though. I mean, we could have made a nice couple if our hearts were in the same place,” I said with a chuckle.

He chuckled too and nodded. The tension I had felt just a few minutes ago vanished in our honest conversation. Patrick was a nice guy, and I sincerely wished he could find someone who could make him truly happy.

Returning home wasn't my desire, but it was a necessity. Atlas was already upset with me for missing Eva's arrival, and I couldn't bear to disappoint him or his girlfriend two nights in a row. Despite my inclination to avoid the lovey-dovey atmosphere, I knew I couldn't evade it forever. So why not confront it tonight?

Before heading to the hotel, I fibbed to Atlas via text, apologizing for my earlier absence and assuring him of my presence to greet Eva that evening. Though he didn't reply, I knew he had read the message. Before parting ways at the hotel, we exchanged promises to meet again soon—but under different circumstances. Deep down, we both knew that we wouldn't be seeing each other anytime soon. Each of us was heading toward our separate destinations, embarking on different paths that would likely keep us apart.

I returned home to find it eerily quiet, the emptiness of the house palpable. Atlas wouldn't be back from the office for a couple more hours, and Eva's return time was uncertain. As I stepped in, the aroma of cooking filled the air, signaling that dinner preparations were underway. It was clear that Atlas had instructed the cook to prepare an elaborate meal for tonight.

Approaching the kitchen, I couldn't help but inquire, "What's on the menu tonight?"

The helper beamed at me, her enthusiasm evident. "Oh, a feast awaits! From appetizers to the main course, and of course, indulgent desserts—all of Miss Eva's favorites," she exclaimed.

A heavy sigh escaped me, my chest tightening with an unexpected weight. Swallowing hard, I felt a lump forming in my throat. Atlas had never gone to such lengths before, not even for my birthdays or when I achieved milestones like entering university. Yet, here he was, catering to Eva's preferences without hesitation. It was a stark realization, one that left me feeling both resigned and disheartened. Well, good for Eva, I suppose.

I retreated to my room, seeking a brief respite to gather my thoughts and muster the strength for what lay ahead tonight. When I awoke, the room was cloaked in darkness, the day had slipped away unnoticed. Cursing softly, I hurriedly changed into a simple ensemble—a white crop shirt paired with jeans. A touch of lip gloss and my hair tied up in a casual bun completed the look. Normally, I'd adorn myself with jewelry, but tonight, I opted to forgo it. Dressing up felt futile, given the circumstances weighing heavily on my mind.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I descended the stairs, the sound of feminine laughter mingling with Atlas's voice echoing from below. Part of me hesitated, almost reluctant to face what awaited me, yet I pressed on nonetheless.

Descending the stairs, I stumbled upon a scene straight out of a romance novel. They were nestled closely on the couch, sharing intimate moments over glasses of wine. Atlas's arm encircled her shoulders, his whispers and gentle kisses prompting giggles from her. It felt as though a sharp blade had pierced through my heart witnessing their affection.

I couldn't bear to linger and watch. My vision blurred with unshed tears, and I felt the urge to flee back to the solace of my room. But before I could act on that impulse, Atlas's voice rang out, pulling me back to the harsh reality. "Oh, hey there! Harper's here," he announced, causing Eva to turn her gaze in my direction as well.

Her beauty captivated me instantly, a blend of elegance and grace. With her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and piercing blue eyes, she exuded a natural radiance that rendered makeup unnecessary. Her flawless skin and enviable figure, accentuated by the royal blue skirt that hugged her curves just right, left me feeling envious. Each detail of her ensemble, from the sleek black heels to the way her hair fell effortlessly over one shoulder, seemed meticulously chosen to enhance her allure. Resentment gnawed at me as I observed their seemingly perfect union, the contrast between her poise and my inner turmoil painfully evident.

"Come join us, Harper," Atlas's voice broke through my reverie, jolting me back to reality as I stood there, gripping the railing tightly, a silent witness to their happiness.

Atlas radiated happiness, a sight that both warmed and wounded me deeply. It was a happiness I hadn't witnessed before, and the realization that it existed without my presence cut me to the core.