Glitch (Next Level Book 1)
Glitch: Chapter 18

“Good morning.” I run my fingers down the slope of Ara’s waist.

“It’s morning?”

“Well…” I glance at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s two am. Technically, that’s morning.” We lost a lot of time in that closet, then the bath, then bed. Ara hasn’t had anything to eat or drink in a while, which concerns me. “I’ve got Chinese food.”

Ara sits up immediately and winces.

“Are you sore?”

“A little,” she admits, and I feel like a piece of shit because I’d been too rough. I swear I don’t know what came over me, and like a fucking fiend, my cock is already straining against my sweats, dying to get back into her somehow. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone that far with you.”

“So I should find someone else to make my fantasies come true?” She tucks her hair behind her ear and tests me. “Okay.” The brat swings her legs like she’s about to get out of my bed and find someone else to fuck her.

“Don’t even try it,” I warn.

“Are you going to go that far with me again?”

I stare at her. My brain, heart, and dick don’t have a unified answer. “I’ll go as far as you’ll let me.”

“Oh good.” She settles back on my pillow. “Then I want to go a lot further next time.”

Her answer makes me relieved. “I’m not sure how much further we can get. That was—”

“Epic, mind-blowing, soul-yeeting-out-my-body sex? Yes. Yes, it was.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. “Did you just say soul-yeeting?”

“Out into the great beyond.” She wiggles her fingers in the air. “It’s still out there, I think.”

I’m really marrying this woman. Today. Right now. Should have yesterday.

“I think I saw God, Glitch.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“She was impressed.”

I laugh so hard, my voice booms in the bedroom.

Ara props her head up. “You have the best laugh.”

“So do you.” That earns me another big smile. Is it weird that I want to make her happy every second of the day? I want her smiling even in her sleep.

My dick twitches in my pants. She sees it. “You’re a unicorn demon, aren’t you?”

I have no clue what she means. “I’m just insatiable when it comes to you, Ara.” I leave the bed and come back a minute later with a monstrous feast. “I might have ordered most of the menu.”

“Ohhh, are there dumplings?”

“Yup.”

She flashes a big smile. “Egg rolls?”

“And spring rolls, edamame, wonton soup, egg drop soup, orange chicken, lo Mein, Buddha’s delight, and beef with broccoli.” I frown, because now I’m not sure it’s enough. “I have frozen mochi for later. And… shit, I left the duck sauce in the kitchen.”

“I love you,” she says around a mouthful of egg roll. “And I’m not saying that because you’ve fucked me into the next stratosphere or are feeding me. I mean it, Glitch. I love you.”

Ara said it in the tub earlier, but that was her subspace brain talking and I didn’t know how to respond. But she’s with it now and all I can say back is, “I love you too.” I crawl across the mattress to kiss her. “I’ve loved you for a long fucking time.” Maybe it won’t make sense to anyone else, but it makes sense to us and that’s all I care about.

I pull back and flash her a big smile. “I’ll be back with more food. And drinks.”

She lifts the tray. “Or we can take this out there.”

“You sure? I’d rather feed you in bed.”

“I’d rather not worry about getting duck sauce on your sheets. Or grease.”

I don’t care about that, but who am I to tell her where to eat? I can feed her at the table, on the floor, in the tub, and anywhere else she gets hungry. “Okay, hang on.”

I grab the tray and balance it in one hand, then help her stand with the other. I want to carry her, but Ara would likely reject the idea. She’s too independent to be doted on for long. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, big dicked unicorn demon, I’m fine.” But when she takes a step and stumbles, I’m there to catch her. “Okay, maybe I’m a little sore.”

Damnit. I drop the tray back on the bed and use both hands to scoop her up and carry her out to the dining room area. I’m pissed at myself for fucking her so hard. And I’m doubly pissed at myself because I plan to do it again.

“I’m okay, Glitch. Really. Seriously, I’m just a little sore.”

“Which makes me want to rip my dick off and beat myself with it.”

“You’d likely give yourself a concussion. Have you seen the size of your cock?”

She’s making light of this? I gently place her down. “I’m really sorry I hurt you.”

“Sean.”

I freeze at the sound of my name.

“Look at me.”

I’m looking.

“I’m fine.” Ara gives me this look that has me feeling some kind of way. “I’m seriously fine. And if you don’t stop doting on me, I’m never fucking you again. Me and the treasure between my thighs will walk right out that door, never to be—”

I shut her up by stuffing my thumb in her mouth. She doesn’t bite it. She licks and sucks it. “Did you just threaten me, Kitty?” I pop my thumb out from between her lips.

“Maybe.” She bats her lashes at me.

“One.”

She flips me the bird and leans back in her chair. “Two.” She flips me the bird with her other finger. “Ohhh three.”

“Marry me after we eat.” I’m only half -joking.

“Okay. But first, I want to meet your sister.”

I swear she’s only half joking, too. I grab my cell out of my pocket and punch in Erin’s number. “Hey, you busy later?”

Ara’s eyes grow huge. “It’s in the middle of the night!” she whisper-yells at me.

Doesn’t matter. Erin is like me—a night owl. “Awesome. I’m swinging by with Ara for dinner. Yeah, six works.”

Ara cups her mouth.

I hang up. “Erin says she’s making tacos. Dinner’s served at six.”

My girl’s cheeks burn red. “You’re really gonna let me meet your sister?”

Fuck yeah, I am. Why wouldn’t I? “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Ara. Of course, you’re meeting her. And my nephew, Beetle.”

“But… this soon?” She looks terrified. “We’re moving fast.”

“Are we though?” I tip my head and squint at her. “Really, Ara?”

She blows out a big exhale. “I guess not.” My Kitty starts finger-combing her hair. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“What’s not to like?”

“I need to shower and change.”

“Shower’s there, and my clothes are in the spare bedroom closet.”

“Glitch!”

“What?”

We stare at each other, holding out for the other to bend and see reason. It won’t be me. I’m shamelessly unreasonable when it comes to Ara.

“Fine, I’ll take you home so you can change. But I’m totally down for you wearing my clothes. In fact, I’d go a little feral to see you in my sweatpants and t-shirt.” I stalk off to grab our food and bring it to the table.

We open all the containers and joke around before she starts asking questions. “So, Erin…”

“Here’s our life in a nutshell: Our parents died when I was fifteen. Erin was eighteen. She got legal custody of me and raised me on her own. By the time I graduated high school, she’d gotten pregnant by a jackass who didn’t stick around, and she raised Beetle on her own too. His name’s really Brendan, but when he was a baby, he’d lay on his back and kick his arms and feet out, which made him look like a beetle on his back. The nickname stuck.”

“You guys have a thing with nicknames, huh?”

“My sister definitely does. I just go along with it.” I bite into a piece of orange chicken. “Anyway, Beetle’s father has nothing to do with him, so I fill that role as much as I can.” She needs to know that because Beetle is a huge part of my daily life. These past couple of days were an exception because Erin lost her job and was able to get him from school.

“How did your parents die?”

My heart sinks. “Car accident on a date night.”

“Oh my God, Glitch.”

“It was fast. I don’t think they felt anything.” I really don’t talk about their deaths. Ara’s tears well up and I change the subject. “So, what about you? You have any siblings?”

“Not really.”

That’s an odd answer.

“My parents spit when I was ten. My dad remarried and started a new family. He doesn’t have anything to do with me anymore.”

I want to kill him. How can a father walk away from a daughter like Ara? Fuckhead.

“I was raised by my mom. She was an artist like me. Taught high school art, actually. She’s who encouraged me to follow my passion instead of getting a degree in some career we both knew I’d hate and settle for anyway.”

“Degrees can be overrated.”

“I suppose.” She plucks at her noodles. “She actually pulled some strings to get me into an art show when I was still in high school. I sold my entire collection that night, plus learned how to network. I was able to pull in two more commissions afterwards.”

I’m not at all surprised. Ara’s talent is mind-blowing. Gutsy. Bright and bold. It’s a direct reflection of her.

“I bet your mom’s incredibly proud of you.”

“She was.”

There it is again… was. I don’t have to ask; my face does it for me.

“She had a heart attack in the middle of teaching fifth period. They couldn’t save her.”

I reach out and grab her hand. My heart is broken for my girl.

Ara sighs. “She died covered in pottery clay up to her elbows. I’m convinced there was no better way for her to go. She was in her element, surrounded by students she loved, doing what she was most passionate about.”

Fuck me.

“Art’s important to you and your mom.”

“It’s as necessary as breathing,” she says. “Sometimes even more so.”

I dump more orange chicken onto my plate, rolling her words over carefully. “Are you tied to that warehouse?” I want to know if it has significant meaning to her or if it’s just an affordable place she found and settled for.

“Ugh, the warehouse.” Ara’s face squinches up. “I love it there, but the building was actually sold. We were told about it two months ago.”

I pause with the container of steamed rice in my grip. “It didn’t look like anyone was moving out.” In fact, it was business as usual. Complete with the dogs and bagels.

“We’re in various stages of denial. The rent is dirt cheap there and we’re allowed to make a mess. It’s got nice lighting and free parking. It’s an artists’ playground. Annnnd will probably turn into some kind of brewery or industry themed condo building now. So depressing.”

My brain starts working on a plan. I don’t know what I can pull off, but I don’t want Ara to lose her art space. If the building’s sold, I can’t buy it, nor would I want to. It’s not in a good part of town, and I’m not into purchasing real estate investments. But I’ll come up with something she’ll love. “Have you looked into any new spaces yet?”

“No. Like I said, we’re all in denial. I keep meaning to, but my routine is to get up and go to the studio and paint, which is all I do. Every time I think I should look around for a new space, it feels exhausting because what little research I’ve done, I haven’t found anything good. It’s disheartening.”

I bet. Now I have an urge to build a fucking space for her somewhere. “How long do you have left before everyone has to get out?”

“Four more months.”

That’s not too bad. I was expecting her to say one week. Four months is plenty of time to find her something new that’s what she wants and has the security I’ll want. This makes me relax a little.

“I’ve been waiting to hear about this new commission I applied for.” She perks up in her chair. “It’s to paint a mural in each of the Elementary schools in this district.”

I sit back, listening.

“It’s not really my style, but I’m trying to branch out. Step outside my box a bit so I can try new things.” She shoves an egg roll in her mouth and chews while she talks. “I’ve been in a massive rut for months with my own projects. I was kinda hoping this will get me out of my funk.”

“Makes sense.” I pick at my food. “Have you had any shows lately?”

“No.” She drinks some water. “Not since my mom died. After I sold our house, I paid off her funeral expenses and some other bills and had a little left over. Between that, the money I had stashed away from the two commissions I’d procured, I moved away and came here. I’ve been on my own with little more than my sad savings and a few other smaller commissions, but it’s enough to get by on.”

“And you haven’t seen your dad at all?” I’m prying, but I don’t care. I want to know everything. Pick her apart and see what makes her tick. What motivates her. What crushes her so I can make sure to avoid it or help her work through it in time.

“Nope. He didn’t even come to her funeral. Such an asshole.” She doesn’t seem too upset about it. Maybe she’s made peace with her dickhead father’s choices. “He was infatuated with my mom, not in love with her.” She grabs the rice and dumps some on her plate. “Some guys like the idea of being with a creative person. I have no idea what that fetish would be called, but it’s a thing, I think. Like artists and rockstars and creators are some unruly wild animal they can tame and master.” She laughs and dumps more orange chicken on her plate next. “That’s what my mom would say to me. That we’re so full of passion and wildness, we draw them with our magic, and spit them out with our paint.”

Sounds possible.

“I have no intention of ever taming you, Ara.” I point my chopsticks at her and tilt my head. “But I don’t want you to ever spit me out. I prefer watching you swallow.”

A smile tears across her face. Then she leans back and crosses her arms, staring at me like she’s not sure if she should agree or be a brat about it.

I don’t give her a chance to do either. “You don’t sleep much, do you?”

“Not really. My head’s always going.”

“The muse?”

“No.” Ara dives back into her food. “The muse has been a silent pain in the ass until yesterday.”

Interesting. She drew me yesterday.

“I just can’t ever get my head to settle and latch onto anything for long. It doesn’t happen when I’ve got a good handle on my art, but when everything I create doesn’t feel right, my brain goes into overdrive and I’m a hot mess about it.” She shrugs. “Then I get handsy with myself.”

I can tell.

“Can I ask you another personal question, Ara?”

“It’s no fun if it isn’t personal.” She takes another sip of water.

“You haven’t slept with your past three boyfriends, including Jason.” Not really a question.

“Nope.” She slams her water down on the table and wipes her mouth.

“Why?”

“It didn’t feel right.”

My cock twitches. I must feel right to her if she’s this lusty with me. And I’m just beastly enough to swell with pride about it.

“Jason was the worst,” she says. “He hated that I wouldn’t fuck him.”

That has my attention. “Can I ask why not?” It’s none of my business, but I hope she’ll share anyway.

Ara shrugs. “It didn’t feel right. I can’t explain it.”

“But you stayed with him?”

She pokes at her meal. “I kept breaking up with him, then he’d wear me down and I’d take him back out of pity. It’s not a good reason, but I don’t have another explanation.” Ara sighs and I feel awful for having asked. “I think he thought my not wanting to have sex with him was a game or a challenge or something at first. Then it just became a serious bone of contention between us. Especially because I got myself off a lot. He thought it was dirty. Not dirty, hot. Dirty, disgusting. He once threw all my toys into the dumpster. I had to order new ones online, and those bitches can be expensive.”

Especially when you don’t have a lot of money to spend.

I want to beat that asshole into the dirt. “Some men have trouble with teamwork,” I say carefully.

“God forbid their masculinity is threatened by a fucking battery.”

I take another sip of my water. “There’s nothing wrong with making yourself come however you need, whenever you need. Fuck anyone who’s ever told you otherwise, Ara.”

“I once heard if you come three times a week, you can extend your life span.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. “I’m gonna be immortal.”

“You and me both, Kitty.” I raise my glass and we clink them. “Eat up.” I tap the side of her plate with my chopsticks. “And drink more water.”

We polish off all the takeout, talk and laugh for another hour and then fall asleep in my bed until late morning.

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