Glitch (Next Level Book 1)
Glitch: Chapter 5

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Glitch is hot, swoony, sexy, fire.

Holy shit. HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT!

The instant I saw him, I was done. Then I heard his deep voice say my name and my body reacted viscerally. My fucking panties are soaked. And I do mean they’re sopping wet. I’m going to have to go home and change before I finish running my errands. Holy shit, I even started sweating in front of him. This is so embarrassing.

My creativity didn’t touch his level of hotness. It should be criminal to look, sound, and smell that good. It’s unfair to the rest of us mere humans.

Glitch has to be a demon. A big, sexy, came-to-fuck-the-soul-out-of-your-body demon.

Holy shit. I can’t pull myself together. I’ve painted pictures in my head of what I thought Glitch would look like. I didn’t do him justice. I wasn’t even close. He’s taller than I thought, built but not bulky, and the ink was everywhere. Did I mention his dark hair? It curls a little at the ends and looks fun to pull while riding his face.

Wait. No. Stop thinking like that, Ara.

I can’t stop. From the instant my name left his sexy fucking mouth, I started imagining the millions of things I wanted to do to him.

He’s probably not going to be able to fix my computer. Right now, I don’t care. I just want another excuse to see him again. Would it be wrong to throw my laptop off my balcony so he can fix that next?

After I leave Glitch’s shop, I drive home on autopilot. I can’t stop shaking. I’ve never been so tongue tied, nervous, turned on, and flabbergasted at the same time before. I legit had an adrenaline rush and he didn’t even touch me.

To know I’ve been talking to this man for months and he looks like that? Fuuuuuck.

I’m not worthy. I’m too fluffy for a guy like that. Too broke. Too everything-that’s-not-good-enough.

Stop it, Ara. You’re better than that. Self-deprecation isn’t cool.

I lip-stalled back at the shop with him. I couldn’t make words come out of my mouth for the life of me. He probably thinks I’m a tool.

All the bad thoughts start creeping in and it’s hard to force them out, but I do because I saw the way he looked at me. There was no disappointment in his expression when he saw me. He actually looked hungry. And talk about matching energies. His shop had some of my favorite anime painted on the walls. I wonder who the artist was? Did Glitch paint too?

How much do we actually have in common?

Look, after my last attempted relationship, life’s gone downhill. Beyond the sex drought, I barely leave my safe spaces anymore. I’ve poured all my energy into my art. And what little bit of sex life I have is with me, myself, and an imagination full of Glitch.

I’m not sure what this says about me.

Could he tell I get myself off on fantasies I conjure of us together? Oh god. I feel so seen. So transparent and stupid.

Well so what. Maybe he should be flattered that he drives me so wild. Bet I’d make him blush with all the dirty thoughts I have of him and then he’d be the one all hot and bothered, sweating in his shop.

I drive the whole way home, imagining us together—even for one night—and it makes me feel like a dirty girl. I like thinking dirty thoughts. I like doing dirty things. But seeing Glitch in real life has added a new element to my imagination.

Oh my God. He’s probably married. If he was mine, I’d put a ring on it. One on his finger and another on his motherfucking cock.

Guys as hot as Glitch do not stay single for long. Unless he’s a player.

Ugh. He’s probably a player.

But a player would have flirted with me online by now, and Glitch never has.

Pull yourself together, Ara. I take a deep breath before heading up to my apartment. Unlocking my door, cool air hits my face and I’m suddenly not interested in running more errands today. I came home to change my outfit—because yes, I’m telling you my panties were that fucking soaked—but now that I’m here, I don’t feel like doing anything except touch myself.

I sit on my bed and eye my side table drawer.

My sex drive is out of control and it’s all Glitch’s fault. If he read the alphabet backwards, he’d make butter melt. I’m softer than butter. And now my fantasies are going next level.

Get a grip, Ara.

I can’t.

Pulling my phone out, I text Trey.

Ara: Is Glitch with someone?

I regret my decision to text the instant I send it.

Trey: You mean now or in general?

I roll my eyes.

Ara: Is he in a relationship with anyone?

I watch the little dots appear as he types his response and my pulse races.

Trey: Nope.

Ara: Okay. Thanks.

I know he’s going to press me, but I really hope he doesn’t.

Trey: You interested?

Damnit.

Ara: I was just curious.

Trey: K

He leaves it at that, thank God.

I glance over at my laptop. I’m totally tossing it out the window to get Glitch to look at it next. The fact that he can fix shit is another turn on for me. Guys with big brains are even hotter than guys with big dicks. Glitch, I’m pretty sure, has both.

Jesus, I stared at his cock earlier in the shop. I legit gawked at his fucking package and I’m pretty sure he caught me doing it.

Get it together, Ara. Distract yourself.

I chew on my lip and check my email for the tenth time today. I’ve been hoping to hear back about a commission piece soon. It takes me three seconds to see they haven’t responded yet. Damnit. It’s just as well. My muse is still hiding. Has been since before my breakup.

My cell rings, and I frown at the screen. Unknown.

It can’t be Glitch already, could it? This isn’t his cell number, but maybe it’s the shop? “Hello?”

Heavy breathing on the other end makes my blood run cold.

“Jason. If this is you, you have to stop.”

More heavy breathing.

I hang up. I’ve blocked him, but he finds ways around it. So far, he hasn’t shown up at my studio, but it hasn’t stopped me from jumping whenever I hear a knock on my door there or at home. The problem with Jason is I’m not sure he’d knock before busting his way inside.

The man has a temper and a jealous streak I never saw coming.

Good fucking riddance.

I stare at the laptop sitting on my desk, opposite my bed. I should get rid of it. I don’t know why I haven’t yet. I guess because it works, and it’s a decent back up if I need it. But Jason gave it to me, and I hate it on principal. I hate him.

Focus on Glitch.

Backing away from resentment and anger, I go where my safe space is in my head. Now that I’ve experienced the real man, it’s easy to conjure him in my mind. I lean back on my bed and close my eyes. I focus on the details of Glitch’s face that I’ve already committed to memory and pretend he uses that sensual mouth to say dirty things to me.

“Let me see that pretty pussy. Mmmm. Bet you taste so good.”

I pull my jeans and panties off, kicking them away.

Glitch’s mouth is sinful. He flashes me a smile that I’ve also committed to memory. White teeth, devilish grin. I pretend he tips his head to the side, eyeing me like he can’t decide what part of my body he wants to fuck first.

“You need my cock, don’t you?”

Yes. I. Do.

I’ve never experienced arousal like this before. It’s borderline embarrassing.

“You’re so wet for me, Kitty.”

I tighten my thighs, fighting the urge to seek better friction. Like I said, my appetite is insatiable. But for once, I want to hold out a little.

“Open your thighs wide for me.” He growls with appreciation. “I love how wet you get. This is mine. Say it. Fucking say who owns this pussy.”

“You,” I whisper before biting my lip.

The phone vibrates next to my leg, startling me.

Holy shit, it’s Glitch! I can’t make my body uncoil enough to answer without hitting the button five fucking times. “H-hello?” I’m shaking. Talk about a head rush. My cheeks heat, and I press my hands to them. I’m so glad we’re not on Facetime.

“Hey, Ara.”

My heart runs panicked circles in my chest. “Hey.” I clear my throat and sit up. “Any luck?”

“Afraid not. I was able to salvage some parts, but I’m not comfortable giving them back without testing each one first to make sure they don’t catch fire too.”

I get all warm and gooey inside. See? This is what I mean about Glitch being safe. He says things—or types them—that make me feel protected.

“I’ll make sure all pieces are boxed up beautifully… for the burial.”

I laugh and it comes out so husky and awkward. I want to die. “I’ll write an obit.”

“Mmmph. I can set up flower arrangements.”

“Wonderful.”

Did I mention my hand is still between my thighs? I can’t seem to move it away, and I don’t want to rub my clit on the phone with him. I need to get off. Points for the double entendre, please. “Okay. Umm. I can pick it up tomorrow, then.”

“Or I can drop it off tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Sure.” I hope my voice doesn’t give my excitement away. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Perfect.” Glitch’s tone matches mine, and I swear I hear his smile.

“Perfect.” Wait. I… he… shit, I sound like a parrot. “Okay well…”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it.” He genuinely sounds like he feels bad about it.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“See you soon.” He hangs up first and I panic. Instead of getting myself off, I beeline it to the bathroom. I get halfway there before I trip on my own good senses and pitch forward, arms pinwheeling. I don’t catch my balance in time and end up skidding on my knees across the floor. “Ouch!” I rub my knees and feel so silly.

I don’t know why I’m this giddy. He’s just coming to give me back my broke ass pile of computer pieces. He’s not coming in. He’s not taking me out. We’re not fucking. He probably won’t even stay for longer than five minutes.

So, I’m going to make sure that for those five minutes I look good enough to eat.

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