The lights that adorn the walls, perched just below the ceiling, create the illusion that the sun hasn’t set yet. But the illusion is easily shattered by the floor-to-ceiling windows that cap off both ends of the long hallway.
I make my way to the right, and fumble through my sparkling clutch for a key. I retrieve it and twist it into the lock, popping the door open and making my way into Brick’s dark apartment.
His apartment is that of a young professional—even though he hasn’t worked a day in his life. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Brick was able to move from a cushy dorm to a penthouse suite once he had served his mandatory year in dormitory hell.
The apartment is large and barren¸ with only two couches looking over a beautiful glass table. Behind the spotless living area is a long dining table with six chairs and a beautiful, modern kitchen.
I turn left and make my way down a short hallway where moans of mixed sexes can be heard through the thin door of a bedroom. I smile to myself as I push the door open.
Brick is on his back, his body tangled in blue, silk sheets. Two blonde-haired women are in turn, tangled around him. It’s an erotic display of a prelude to an orgy.
“Get the hell out,” I scream angrily, but it’s an act. Both women whip their heads to face me. The blank expressions on their face characterize fear, embarrassment and shock. “Get out.”
One girl has the right idea and scrambles past me, but the other one seems to have a fighting spirit that I can get behind. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Your worst damn nightmare if you don’t hop into that thong of yours and hit the elevator in the next sixty seconds.”
“Whatever.” She scoffs and swipes her panties off the floor. “Call me, Brick,” she says in such a high-pitch squeal that I almost lose my hearing.
“Fat chance of that happening, trick.” Once she exits the bedroom, I push the door shut and turn to brick with a wicked smile.
“What the fuck was that about?” Brick asks as he shoots up in bed and pulls the sheet over his erection. “Jealous?”
“Nothing.” I flip a switch beside the door, turning the lights on. Brick winces and shields his eyes from the light. “Just wanted to have a little fun.”
“I’d say you succeeded.”
“And you’re not even angry.” I move to take a seat on the edge of the bed, hitching my dress up in the process.
“That’s because you can finish the job.” He whips the sheets off the side of the bed, and spreads his legs, drawing attention to his rock-hard erection. “Besides, bitches come and go.”
“Sleazebag.”
He rolls onto his side and presses his palm against my stomach. “What are you doing here?”
I roll over to face him, pushing my body close to his so that his cock rubs against my dress. “I came here with a proposition.”
“You’re going to forego the bet and sleep with me anyway?” He bites into his lip and traces his fingers to the hem of my dress. “I rather like that idea.”
I push my body closer, teasing him with the heat of my body, and run a palm against his defined, smooth abs. From experience, I know light touches against his stomach makes his cock race. “There’s this girl.”
“I already have a girl.” He smiles. “Two of them. One right here with me, and the other somewhere studying her Bible or something.”
“You want a third.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re a pig.” I run my fingers past his navel, drawing a circle around his perky button. “You’ll never be satisfied.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I am.” I shift my hand lower, pressing softly against the shaven mound above his cock. “She’s pretty and innocent, with big breasts and lush lips.” I scoot closer until I’m close enough to whisper in his ear. They’re untouched.”
“Stop it,” he growls. “You’re going to make me come just thinking about it.”
I bite into my lip and steal his attention. Those beautiful, swirling emerald eyes are fixated on me as I tug softly at his erection. He gasps and pushes into my touch. “I want you to turn her into a sex machine. Fuck her so good that she’ll never stop craving cock. You’re the perfect man for the job.” I’m stroking his ego—and his cock—on purpose. The only thing Brick loves more than pussy is himself—and sometimes, I think, maybe me.
“What’s in it for you?” he asks between arid moans of pleasure. At this point, he’s focused on his own release and couldn’t care less that I’m in the room. I’m nothing more than a sex toy with human flesh to him. His fingers rise from the lining of my dress and press against my stomach, just below my breasts.
“I see that Tyra is slow to catch the hook and you’re left bobbing on top of the water. You’re horny and bored. I can see it in your eyes. You know you want to.”
“I won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing you’re right. But I’ll look into her. She might be the perfect woman to fill the blank space in my portfolio.”
“Oh yeah. She’s fucking perfect.”
He smiles his trademarked smile—a perfect shitstorm of a grin running on fumes of equal parts sly and smug. A smile that is capable of tearing panties in half. “Yeah?” he moans, for no particular reason. He closes his eyes and his abs begin to contract, and his hips buck.
God. This is a fucking beautiful sight to behold. This man is trouble even when his eyes are closed. For a moment, I almost forget who he is and I’m drawn into his closed eyes. For a moment, I want to jerk him to completion.
I snap out of it, but continue to stroke his hardness. As his breathing intensifies, I quicken my pace, pumping my hand up and down his swollen shaft. I derive my own pleasure from his muffled cries, and take great pride in the art of being in control.
I’ve been with enough men to know the infallible signs they’re about to blow. I’ve been with Brick enough times to know that in that department, he’s no different than any other man.
I lean my head down and kiss him softly on his cheek. That’s enough to send him to the next level. He can say whatever the fuck he wants, but at his core, he’s no different than anyone else on this Earth—he wants to be loved. It’s just not something we talk about.
He chokes on a moan and I release his cock from my grip before spinning off the side of the bed. His eyes dart open and the visage is alarming—they’re dark and wanton, burning holes of unfinished business into my being.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He reaches forward with his tattooed arm and latches onto my arm. I’m not strong enough to pull away as he pulls himself to his knees and begins to stroke his cock furiously—more furious than I could. Call me fifty shades of fucked up, but there is nothing more sexy than the image of a man pleasuring himself.
I’m wet, but it’s not something I care to admit. I can’t force myself to look away from his demanding eyes as continues to beat away at his cock. If it was swollen before, it’s prepared to blow now. Holy fucking Mount Rushmore.
I shake my wrist at Brick, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. His eyes struggle to stay closed, but he fights through the waves of ecstasy. He wants to watch me watch him as he comes. Everything we do to each other, and with each other, always comes back to power. It’s how we measure our lives and our relationships with those around us. It’s fucked up and it’s the only thing that makes sense.
He bucks his hips. His mouth drops open, spitting guttural moans. His body is so focused on his release that I’m able to escape his grip and jump back, and out of the way of shooting ropes of cum.
The upper half of his body folds over, but his eyes remain transfixed on mine. It’s a struggle, but it’s not a battle he’s willing to lose. And he wins. He always fucking does. I can’t look away as his body goes limp against the backdrop of city lights.
“Damn, I missed,” he says when he finally reclaims control of his vocal chords. There’s a hint of amusement and a touch of disappointment in his tone that he wasn’t able to hit me with his army of semen.