Ego Maniac

by Vi Keeland

  Emily ground down on my growing cock, and I reached around under her bunched-up skirt to grab a handful of ass. Then I pulled on the lacy fabric running up the crack to increase the friction on the front. She moaned, so I pulled harder.

  Christ, I love G-strings.

  She reached for my shirt and started to work the buttons while I sucked on her neck. “I knew the first time I met you that we’d be good together. I hope you have a full box of condoms. Because after I ride you, I want to be on all fours while you take me from behind.”

  The thought of Emily ass-up was exactly what I needed. Especially since I’d spent the last week fantasizing about another woman’s ass—one I should not be thinking about. Although, the repeated visual of Emerie’s creamy, round ass with my pink handprint on it as I hammered into her from behind was a new go-to favorite fantasy of mine. I dreamed of finishing inside of her and then cupping my cum as it dripped out to rub into my handprint on her skin like a salve.

  My eyes were shut, and I had to press them tighter to ward off the visual of another woman. Because thinking of one woman while another rides you is a complete dick thing to do, even for me.

  Emily lifted enough to slide her hand between us and cupped my cock, giving it a good squeeze. “I want you now.” She began to frantically unbuckle my pants, which had me reaching for my wallet. And then remembering there was no condom in there. Fuck.

  “Any chance you have a condom?” I asked, biting on her earlobe.

  Her voice was strained. “No. And I screwed up my birth control this month, so please tell me you have one somewhere in this apartment.”

  Shit. I didn’t. I’d finished off the big box in my nightstand last month and never got around to replacing it. Then I’d used the emergency one I kept in the back of my wallet in Hawaii.

  But…I had a few down in my office in the top right-hand drawer. At least I didn’t have to go outside and freeze my balls off. I groaned as I pulled back. Cupping Emily’s face, I said, “I need two minutes. I’m sorry. Condoms are in my office downstairs.”

  “Want me to come with you? I wouldn’t object to a little desk sex. Plus, it will save time.”

  Smart girl. But…probably not a good idea to bring her to a place where we’d be surrounded by shit that reminded me of the woman I was trying to keep out of my head.

  I gave her a chaste kiss and lifted her off of me. “Stay put. My office is on the first floor. There’s twenty-four-hour security down there. I don’t want to have to cover your mouth when you scream my name.”

  The damn elevator took forever to make its way up to my floor, so I took the opportunity to at least buckle my pants before running into Ted, the night doorman. What I should have done was put on shoes. The marble-tiled floor was like an ice cube, and I didn’t want my body temperature cooling down.

  Inside my office, I made a point of not looking at Emerie’s closed door as I walked up the hallway. I didn’t need anything else to remind me of her. Definitely not the whiteboard where she wrote sappy relationship crap and then stormed into my office looking all sexy and angry. Nope. Not going to look. Like a two year old, I held my hand up to block my peripheral view of the office across from mine as I opened my door.

  Rummaging through my desk, I found three loose condoms in the drawer. Thank fuck. I shoved them in my pocket and started back down the hall toward the lobby. I’d almost cleared the hallway when I heard a sound.

  I should look.

  Fuck that. Let someone break in and steal whatever they want. I’d deal with it tomorrow. I had more important things waiting for me upstairs.

  Then I heard it again. It almost…sounded like a sniffle.

  Was Emerie still here? I tried to keep going, but I knew I’d never be able to focus if I thought she could be hurt or something. What if she fell on her way out and was bleeding all over the floor in her closed office? I jogged back to her door and opened it.

  “Drew! You scared the shit out of me.” Emerie jumped in her seat and clutched her chest.

  “What are you still doing here? I thought you had a hot date with Mr. Escargot?”

  “So did I.”

  Upon closer inspection, I could see that she’d been crying. She had a tissue wadded up in her hand, and her pale skin was blotchy. “What did he do?” I had the sudden urge to choke the little dweeb with his own bowtie.

  She sniffled. “Nothing, really. He just canceled our dinner plans.”

  “What happened?”

  “Today’s my birthday, and—”

  “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Birthdays have never been a big deal for me. I celebrated Gotcha Day growing up like most people celebrate birthdays.”

  “Gotcha Day?”

  “The day my parents brought me home from the adoption agency. They always said everyone had a birthday, but the day they got me was the best present they ever received. So they started to celebrate Gotcha Day with me instead of their own birthdays. It just sort of stuck, and birthdays are just a number for me.”

  “That’s really incredible. But you still should have told me it was your birthday.” It didn’t escape me that Emerie barely acknowledged her birthday, while my ex-wife thought her birthday was a national holiday. That had always annoyed the shit out of me even before things got really bad.

  She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m just being a big baby. Baldwin made reservations at this popular French restaurant where it’s impossible to get a table, and I was supposed to meet him at eight.”

  “What happened?”

  “He texted me and said Rachel was pissed that he blew her off to take me to dinner the other night, and when he’d mentioned he was taking me out again, she got annoyed, so he had to cancel tonight.”

  The guy was a total asshole. He was definitely stringing Emerie along. There was no doubt in my mind after everything she’d told me and then seeing how he reacted the other night when I’d suggested she and I grab a bite to eat. He was territorial about her in more than a friendly way. Yet he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

  “I know you have feelings for him. But the guy seems like an asshole to me.”

  “I just need to let go and move on.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “I should go out and celebrate my birthday myself—pick someone up in a bar and bring him home with me.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  She sighed. “I know. I’m just not a random-hookup type of girl. I’ve tried it, and I hate myself for weeks after. It’s not worth it.”

  Thank God. The thought of her bringing some random guy home to hook up with made me physically sick. Speaking of which…my random hookup was upstairs waiting.

  “What are you going to do tonight?” I asked.

  “I’m just going to finish up this file and then head home. I’m tired anyway.”

  “Okay. Don’t stay too long. We’ll celebrate tomorrow. I’ll take you to Joey’s for lunch.”

  Emerie forced a sad smile. “That sounds good.” Her eyes dropped to my feet. “No shoes?”

  “I just ran down quick.”

  “You’re working late and forget something?”

  “No…I…uh…have company.”

  “Oh.” Her face, which was already sad, looked like I’d just told her a puppy had died. This time, she couldn’t even force a smile. “Don’t let me keep you. I’ll be out of here shortly anyway.”

  I said goodnight but felt like complete shit walking away. Why did I feel like two hundred pounds of added weight was sitting on my shoulders as I rode the elevator back upstairs? It wasn’t me who had screwed her over. I hadn’t even known it was her birthday.

  I walked back into my apartment, completely lost in thought, only to be greeted by Emily. She was standing in the doorway that led to my living room, wearing nothing but those sexy-as-shit skinny-heeled shoes and her black lace G-string.

  Nothing like a pair of perky D cups to cheer you up when y
ou’re feeling down.

  She tilted her head and crossed her legs at the ankles. The shoes were definitely staying on. I could almost feel them digging into my back already. “Like what you see?”

  I responded without words, stalking over and lifting her up, guiding her legs to wrap around my waist. “You can ride me later. Right now, I’m going to fuck you on my kitchen table. You okay with that, Emerie?”

  She chuckled. “Emily. I think all the blood is rushing south and messing with your ability to speak.”

  Fuck. I’d called her Emerie and hadn’t even noticed.

  “That must be it.” I walked us to the table and spread her out so I could quickly unbuckle my pants, but when I looked back up at her smiling face, I saw Emerie.

  Emerie.

  Not Emily who I was just about to fuck.

  I blinked a few times, and my eyes came into focus. Chestnut hair, dark Italian skin, big brown eyes. The two looked nothing alike. Hovering over her, I held off on taking down my underwear to clear my head and get back in the moment. Then I took her mouth again, and we were kissing.

  But I couldn’t shake the image of Emerie crying alone at her desk. Her big blue eyes red, fair skin blotched, sad about some asshole who was probably eating escargot and would wake her up with shaking walls at two in the morning.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  “Fuuuuckkk.” I stood up and dragged my hand through my hair, wanting to yank it out in frustration.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  I pulled up my pants as I responded. “It’s a client. She called while I was downstairs, and I blew her off. But I need to go work on something.”

  “Are you kidding me? Now?”

  “I’m sorry, Emerie.”

  “Emily.” She covered her breasts as she sat up on the table.

  “Emily. Yes. Sorry. My mind is elsewhere.” Like on Emerie, instead of Emily, where it should be.

  “It’s fine,” she said.

  I could tell it wasn’t. Of course, I didn’t blame her one bit. I’d be pissed as hell if a woman pulled the crap I’d just pulled on her. But there was nothing I could do about it. Except apologize.

  “I’m really sorry. It’s time-sensitive, or I wouldn’t do this.”

  “I understand.”

  She got herself dressed, and less than five minutes after I’d walked into my apartment with a smoking hot naked woman waiting for me, I was walking her to the elevator.

  The ride down was uncomfortable. In the lobby, she kissed me on the cheek and walked out without looking back. I should have felt badly, but instead, all I felt was anxious, wondering if Emerie was still here.

  She’d better not be gone already.

  Drew

  “Jesus Christ!” Emerie was just behind the front door to the office when I whipped it open. If she’d taken another step, I probably would’ve slammed her in the face.

  She clutched at her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Good. You’re still here.”

  “I was just getting ready to leave. What’s the matter? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine. But I’m taking you out for your birthday.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t. But I want to.”

  She squinted. “I thought you had company.”

  “Got rid of her.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you ditch your date?” The confusion on her face melted as a realization of some sort seemed to hit her. “Oh.”

  My brows drew down. “Oh what?”

  “You’re done with your date.”

  “I was far from done,” I grumbled, then nodded my head toward the street. “Come on. You deserve a nice night out on your birthday. That dumb putz has no idea what he’s missing. Let’s go get shitfaced.”

  She smiled from ear to ear. “That sounds awesome.”

  “I’m never getting my balls in.”

  “Maybe that’s why you’re so uptight. You haven’t been laid in so long, you forgot it’s not the balls that go inside.” I smirked at Emerie as the five ball rolled into the left corner pocket. It was our first game of pool, and I’d just banked in my fifth ball in a row. She was right. I might clear the table before she chalked up her stick.

  She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid?”

  “You’re wound a little tight.”

  I expected her to go off on me, but instead she surprised me. Literally. Just as I was about to take my sixth shot, she yelled, “Watch it!” My hand veered mid-shot, and the two ball landed nowhere near the pocket I’d intended.

  She sported a smug smile, all proud of herself.

  “Is that how we’re going to play this?”

  “What? I’m so uptight, I can’t help myself. Sometimes words get bottled up, and they just pop out of my mouth like a cork from champagne.”

  “Your shot.” I extended my hand toward the felt. As she positioned herself, I rounded the table, moving closer until I stood directly behind her. She attempted to pretend it didn’t bother her, but eventually she turned around.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m watching you take the shot.”

  “From behind?”

  I grinned. “It gives me the best view.”

  “Go back to where you were standing.” She waved her hand to the other side of the pool table. “I think your view is clearer from over there.”

  She bent again, attempting to line up her shot. My eyes dropped to her amazing ass. “That depends on what I’m looking at.”

  When she finally took the shot, her cue scraped along the felt and completely missed the ball.

  “I thought you knew how to play.”

  “I do.”

  “Doesn’t look that way.”

  “You’re making me nervous standing behind me.”

  I leaned down next to her and showed her how to position her hand to cradle the stick so it would at least be easier to connect with the ball. After she got the hang of it, I went back to the other side of the table. My intentions that time had been truly altruistic—at least until her shirt gapped open, and I was staring straight down at her tits.

  I couldn’t bring myself to move. She must have been wearing one of those bras that only holds half a breast, because all I could see were two perfectly round globes of luscious, creamy skin with just a hint of something black and lacy.

  Great tits to go with a spectacular ass.

  I brought my beer to my lips as I waited for her to take her shot, but kept right on gawking over the bottle as I took a long draw. The only thing that eventually distracted me was watching her slide the stick back and forth between her fingers.

  Then I imagined my cock was the stick.

  Forcing my eyes shut as she finally took her shot, I emptied the contents of my Stella. Emerie managed to connect with the ball this time, only she sank one of my balls instead of her own. She was so excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell her.

  “Does that mean I go again?”

  “Sure does. I’m gonna grab another beer. You want one?”

  “Yes, but not another beer. They make me too full.”

  “Okay? What do you want?”

  “Surprise me. I’ll drink whatever you give me.”

  I definitely needed to walk away for a minute.

  The line at the bar was two deep, but I was a regular here. Roman and I met at Fat Cat every weekend to play pool and talk shop. So when Tiny—the bartender who had to be nearly seven feet tall—saw me, he took my order ahead of most people.

  “I’ll take another Stella and one of those.” I pointed to a margarita.

  Tiny cracked a smile. “Roman getting in touch with his feminine side tonight?”

  “Nah. He’s probably home getting in touch with himself. I’m here with…” What the hell was she? She wasn’t a date. Wasn’t a co-worker even tho
ugh we worked in the same office. I couldn’t even call her an employee. Searching for a word, I settled on the simplest one: “a woman.”

  Emerie was most definitely a woman.

  While I waited, I thought about the fact that I’d never once even considered taking a date here—again, not that tonight was a date. But this was the kind of place you came to hang out and be yourself. Yet I hadn’t thought twice about bringing Emerie here. It was nice to spend time with a woman who I knew would be comfortable in an underground pool hall slash dive bar. It was a bonus that she was sexy as shit.

  I was only gone a few minutes, but when I returned to the pool table, there was a guy talking to Emerie. A pang of good ol’ male jealousy sprang to life inside of me. Resisting the urge to tell him to beat it, I opted to make the guy feel uncomfortable until he slithered away.

  I walked up and stood next to Emerie. Handing her the drink as I looked at the snake, I said, “Here you go. Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Will. He offered to show me some pointers.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Will was holding a drink in his left hand. The finger he’d slipped his wedding ring off of still had the indent in it. I waited until our eyes locked, then I let mine lead his down to his finger. “We have the table for another twenty minutes. You and your wife want next game when we’re finished?”

  Nothing like a little silent man-to-man conversation.

  He nodded to the bar. “Maybe another time. My friends are waiting for me.”

  Nice talking to you, Will.

  After that, Emerie and I finished our game and went to sit at a table in a quieter area of the bar. She drank that first margarita pretty quick, and the waitress had just delivered a second. Her mood had changed from down about the asshole with a bowtie to alcohol-assisted upbeat.

  “So what was your favorite birthday present you ever received?” she asked.

  “Me? I don’t know. Growing up my father bought me lots of shit. A car for my seventeenth birthday, I guess.”

  “That’s boring.” She took a sip of her margarita, and a line of salt stuck to her lip.