Citywide

by Santino Hassell

  Meredith arched her back, trying to ride my fingers, and clenched around them tight. With a soundless gasp, her body jackknifed up and she came as I kept fucking her, the wet sound of my plunging fingers and rubbing thumb deliciously obscene in the quiet room.

  I grinned wickedly when she collapsed on the bed, gasping for breath with her eyes squeezed shut. The cocky part of me expected her to give me a dazed smile, but Meredith’s eyes snapped open and she fumbled her way to a sitting position. With slightly uncoordinated determination, she pushed me onto my back and crawled to the edge of the bed.

  “Jeans off, Sergeant.” She licked her lips, eyes ablaze. “And can I use your harness?”

  My stomach flipped and my hands stilled on my belt. “Fuck yeah, you can.”

  She grinned but kept studying me. “Why’d you look surprised?”

  “Because the girls I bring home usually want me to fuck their brains out and assume I have no interest in getting in return.”

  “Well, those people live in a narrow world filled with stupidity, stereotypes, and assumptions leading to bad fucking.”

  “Hey now. My fucking is never bad.”

  “Uh, duh. But clearly they weren’t giving you everything you wanted in return.”

  Meredith hopped off the bed and removed her dress, tossing it to the side so she was standing in the middle of my bedroom in nothing but underwear that had been reduced to a wet rag, and a bra that looked more lace than solid fabric. She went to my closet, clearly remembering where I stored my harness and assortment of toys from our marathon sex session a few nights before.

  There was something indescribably sexy about watching her slide into the harness and adjust it. She bit her lower lip when I began slowly rubbing my clit.

  She prowled toward me, cupid’s bow lips turned up into a filthy grin, and climbed onto the bed. She caught my legs under the knees, dragging me closer to her, and rocked forward to drag the tip of the dildo along my slit. I watched with rapt fascination, unable to stop myself from jerking my hips closer to her. When she angled the tip to my slicked entrance and slid slowly inside, I fought the urge to close my eyes.

  I wanted to see her fuck me, hips flexing forward and hair hanging around her as she moved faster and jerked her hips with more intensity. I loved watching the veiny silicone slide into my pussy and come out coated in my wetness. It wasn’t even the act of being penetrated that turned me on so much—it was all those details.

  I dropped a hand to my clit again, and rubbed hard. No teasing, no drawing it out, I moved my fingers over my clit so fast that my elbow pinged from the angle.

  “You’re so beautiful.” Meredith was breathing erratically as she fucked in and out of me, sweat trickling down the sides of her face and dampening her hair in the now-humid room. “You said I was wet, but you’re making a total mess, baby.”

  “Oh fuck.” My back arched, hips slamming onto the dildo. I grit my teeth, eyebrows hiking up, but kept watching. “Don’t stop.”

  She said something else after that, something dirty and fond, but it was lost to the roar in my ears. A sound exploded out of my throat, half-panicked and half-overwhelmed, and I planted my feet onto the mattress harder. The orgasm hit me so fast, and with so much power, that I couldn’t stop crying out. A continuous series of hoarse shouts escaped my mouth, and I didn’t stop rubbing myself until the pressure against my swollen clit was almost painful.

  I fell back on the bed much the way Meredith had earlier, and finally shut my eyes. It burned to breathe, likely because I’d been holding my breath, and it took a long moment for me to get myself together. She was right—I was a mess. Wet and probably flushed, chest heaving, but I also felt turned inside out from the intensity of my orgasm. In the past, I’d have stumbled out of the bed to get myself together in the bathroom. Now, I just exhaled slowly and blindly reached for her.

  “That was really gorgeous,” she whispered in my ear, raining kisses all over my face. “Like, the prettiest orgasm I’ve ever seen.”

  I shook my head at the absurdity. “There’s something wrong with you.”

  “It’s so true. I’m pretty sure I look like I’m in my death throes when I come.”

  The laugh that burst out of me bordered on hysterical, and I couldn’t tamp down on it the way I usually could. My shoulders shook as she cuddled up to me, still trailing kisses all over me.

  “Stop making me laugh,” I groused, wiping dampness from my eyes with my forearm. “You’re ruining my style.”

  “I ruined your vagina too. Might have to go inspect it later.”

  “Meredith.”

  She snickered and pressed her face against my neck. “Okay, I’ll stop being goofy. I’m just ridiculously happy right now. And kind of hoping I get to spend the night.”

  I wrapped an arm around her, tightening her against me. “You absolutely get to spend the night.”

  “Mmm.” Meredith kissed me, gentle at first and then deeper. When our tongues touched, I had to pull back or we’d end up fucking again right now. “You know, if I spend enough nights, Chester could go do whatever Chester usually does since I’d be staying with my bodyguard on the regular.”

  I swatted her ass. “I’m not going to be your bodyguard. It’s a conflict of interest.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you want me to be your . . . girlfriend?”

  She’d said it teasingly, but I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “‘Maybe,’ she says.” Meredith sighed tragically, but judging from the acceleration of her heartbeat against my sweat-damp chest, those two syllables had made her happier than the orgasms.

  “Fine,” I said. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” Her response was a huge smile, but I kept talking before she could interrupt. “But I’m really not going to be your bodyguard. Seriously, Meredith.”

  “Okay, I get that.” She propped herself up with her face against her hand, still beaming. “But you’re going to be someone’s bodyguard at QFindr. You’re taking the job for sure?”

  I rolled onto my side so I could fully face her, putting a hand on her hip and stroking it with my thumb. “I’m strongly considering it.”

  Meredith held my gaze and nodded without a flicker of resentment or bitterness in that lovely face. “If my father’s an ass to you, I’ll murder him.”

  Snorting, I smoothed my hand up to the small of her back. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it. I kind of got in his face today, demanded to know why I should work for someone whose own kids can’t stand him.”

  Meredith’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

  “Uh-huh. I expected him to kick me out on my ass, but he fucking explained himself to me. He was obviously pissed off about it, but he said he’d been wrong for being a shitty dad.” She continued to gape. If we were in a cartoon, her mouth would have slid down to the floor. “He also said the reason he wants to hire me is because his hot assistant, Shonda, suggested maybe folks at QFindr would feel more comfortable having other queer people constantly shadowing them.”

  “I’m sorry—” Meredith shook her head. “I’m, like, mind blown. He admitted to a fault?”

  “Yeah, but considering he hasn’t said it to any of you, let’s not get too excited. He’s still an ass in my book.”

  “I know. But, Jesus, at least he’s aware of it. Wow.” Meredith settled onto the bed, eyes still round. “I have to tell Caleb.”

  I jerked her closer to me. “Later.”

  A smile curved onto her face again. “Later, huh? Does Sergeant Maldonado want to cuddle?”

  “Don’t ruin the vibe, Meredith.”

  “Okay, no vibe ruining, but on one condition.”

  I waited, watching her make a serious face, and fighting the desire to kiss it off her.

  “No calling other women hot.”

  “Oh my God.” I laughed again, burying my face in her neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I will fight someone,” she said. “With fists.”r />
  “Instead of dueling pistols?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No need for all that. You have no competition.” I wrapped my arms around her, and she stilled against me, curling against me like she belonged. The fan swooshed above us, stirring the warm air and adding to the drowsiness settling into my bones. My eyes grew heavy, but I didn’t fall asleep before saying, “I haven’t wanted anyone to be my girlfriend in a while.”

  “So I’m special,” she murmured.

  “Special,” I confirmed. “And mine.”

  Raymond: You’re really not coming?

  Angel: Really.

  Raymond: Wow son. Thanks for leaving a dude high and dry over here

  Angel: Wtf are we going for anyway? I don’t know these people. Why do they want us to be present for their engagement party?

  Raymond: I know them both, dumbfuck. Caleb is David’s ex

  Angel: Yeah. The one whose nose you broke that one time?

  Raymond: That was mad long ago

  Angel: Lmao. Two years is mad long?

  Raymond: Two and a half.

  Angel: Uh-huh.

  Raymond: Anyways . . . and Oli is . . . . . Idk some kinda friend when David is in the right mood for it. Also Tonya’s new woman, Meredith, is Caleb’s sister

  Angel: You forgot that one of Chris’s new men is Caleb’s half brother. What does that make Chris to Caleb?

  Raymond: Idk . . . what does that make him to Tonya?

  Angel: Brother-in-law? This is complicated.

  Raymond: Who gives a fuck. The point is them getting engaged is a big deal round these parts because our whole crew is all intertwined with their whole crew. According to David, we’re “basically family”

  Angel: “According to David.” Whipped af.

  Raymond: You the one watching Stephanie get dressed like a fucking creeper

  I glanced up from my phone to see what Stephanie was doing. Applying a third layer of something on her already flawless skin, and holding up the bottle to her phone’s camera where it was propped against her mirror. I hadn’t realized she was doing another “get ready with me” recording thing. She put them on Instagram a lot, and I watched them because she was beautiful and the big smile she flashed at the end could bring me to my knees.

  Angel: How am I creepy? She puts the videos on Instagram.

  Raymond: Yuh . . . for people who want to use the products she uses, cockhead. Not for thirsty cable techs. And now you upgraded to being in her house while staring at her like a pervert

  Angel: No, I’m not. I’m talking to some jackass who’s about to be surrounded by corny rich people at an engagement party by his damn self.

  Raymond: W/e, I’ll get high before we go.

  Angel: You’re a bad friend.

  Raymond: And you’re a dry ass bucket of thirst

  I shoved my phone into my pocket and slumped lower on the couch. Stephanie’s furniture consisted of hand-me-downs, but they were comfortable as fuck. I thought about taking a nap while she made herself all shiny, but wound up watching her again.

  In the time it had taken me to bitch at Raymond, she’d finished with her face and eyes and was now applying deep-red lipstick. My gaze caught on her mouth, plush and wide, and kissable. When she finished and gave her hair a flip, grinning at her phone, I was still watching.

  “Okay, so—” Stephanie broke off when she caught my expression. One of her brows arched up. “Don’t be looking at me like that, fresco.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know what.” She stood up and brushed bronze-colored powder from her silky robe. “I’m going to get dressed. Are you really wearing jeans and a Yankees T-shirt? You look—” She traced my shoulders and biceps, pursed her lips, and then sighed. “Well, you don’t look suited for a fancy engagement party, anyway.”

  “That’s good. Because I’m not going.”

  I regretted saying it as soon as Stephanie’s face fell. Her brows drew together, and genuine disappointment dampened her shine.

  “You said you’d go.”

  “Changed my mind.”

  “But you said you’d go with me.” She put her hands on her hips, hurt quickly turning into irritation. “What the fuck, Sharky?”

  She always called me Sharky when she was mad. It was an old-ass nickname, one I’d outgrown years ago along with my Jaws obsession, and had finally gotten almost everyone to stop calling me. Except her when she was mad. Or Ray when he wanted to be annoying.

  “Listen—”

  “No, you listen, pendejo. I’m going to be the only one there without a date—”

  I looked at her incredulously. “You serious? All of our friends will be there. It’s not like you’re some shrinking violet withering in a fucking corner alone.”

  “Our friends will be there with their significant others.” We stared at each other, me stubbornly silent, and her getting steadily more pissed off, before she waved a hand at me with a suck of her teeth. “Vete p’al carajo—”

  She stalked into her room, every step punctuated with a “puñeta” or “coño,” but kept the door open. I followed her, freezing in the doorway when I found her in underwear and a bra. The robe was in a puddle at her feet.

  “Sorry—”

  “You always do this,” she said, picking up where we’d left off and jabbing a finger in my face as if she weren’t wearing a bra that only covered half of her breasts. I kept my eyes on her face, intently focusing on how her makeup leveled up her already-stunning beauty, instead of how obsessed I tended to be with her nipples. “You say you’ll go somewhere with me, out in public, and then you back out at the last minute. What am I, some embarrassment?”

  “What? That’s fucking ridiculous.”

  “Oh really?” She put her hands on her hips again, looking like a pissed-off Victoria’s Secret model who was about to shove her foot up my ass. “Even before we started fucking, you acted like you couldn’t go anywhere alone with me.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, pronouncing each syllable clearly. My voice rose, matching hers, both of us trying to out-mean each other. Business as usual as soon as we’d included sex into the friendship equation. “Made-up bullshit.”

  “Like the time we were supposed to go to a Knicks game, because my uncle gave me tickets, and you told me to take Chris?”

  “I don’t like the Knicks.”

  Her jaw clenched. “Or the time I asked you to drive me to Manhattan in that storm, and I had to beg you to actually go into the store with me.”

  “It was a sex store.”

  “And? Are you afraid of dildos? You’re a bigger dick than any of them, sooo . . .”

  Why did she have to be funny even while telling me off? It was awful—I wanted to laugh at an insult aimed at myself. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared back.

  “I wasn’t comfortable going into a sex shop with you,” I said stubbornly. “And you know why.”

  “Oh please. Like you were going to give away the fact that you were attracted to me? As if I didn’t already know?” Stephanie scoffed and rolled her eyes at me so extravagantly, she needed to win a medal in ocular Olympics. “Besides, you wound up watching me fuck myself with that new vibrator the same night, so . . .”

  “Yeah, nena. Show me how you use it . . .”

  Stephanie met my gaze dead-on, sweat dampened and breathing hard as she stopped fucking herself and let the slicked vibrator remain inside of her. Her lip curled up into a challenging smirk.

  “Then show me your dick.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I palmed myself, squeezing it through denim. She didn’t move an inch until I fumbled with my jeans and revealed my hard-on to her in all of its throbbing glory. Her eyes fell half-shut and her lips parted as if she wanted it in her mouth, and I nearly lost my mind.

  “Touch it,” she whispered. “It’s only fair.”

  My eyes immediately flicked to the side table that contained her stash. She had really good shit, and that vibrator had be
en our first step to her helping me explore the world of sex toys. We’d spent that entire afternoon and evening flirtatiously teasing each other about trying out some of her stuff until it had gone from teasing to tense, and in the middle of the night something had changed.

  After I’d asked why she had such a big collection, she’d mentioned some of them had been gifts from girls she’d fooled around with, but admitted she’d bought most because she loved trying out new things. And because I’d been deliriously turned on by that point, I’d asked her which things.

  Cue the object of my desire since high school explaining how hard she could make herself come. I’d stared at her in a silent plea to show me what she was describing. She’d done it without needing me to speak, because she was never afraid of making mistakes or reading a situation wrong the way I was.

  I’d already wanted her more than anything, but us getting ourselves off while staring at each other had sealed the deal. There’d been no going back from there. Later, she’d randomly send me a picture of a new toy she’d procured, or I’d send her a Snap of a Fleshlight or prostate massager that I wanted, and we’d hook up to fool around, watching and not usually touching.

  Things had changed when we’d started touching. The playfulness had intensified, and by the time we were regularly having sex, it seemed to be all we ever did. Text about fucking, fuck when we saw each other, and then . . . the tension had filled all the spaces around the fucking until there was nothing else but sex and anger. Anger about there only being sex, about me not wanting to tell anyone about the sex, about me never asking her to go anywhere but my bedroom . . . And me never explaining that I was in fucking love with her—had been since high school. The problem was that I knew she wasn’t in love with me, and I wasn’t down for the level of self-destruction that went along with us pseudo-dating. Which was why we’d stopped sleeping together.

  Mostly stopped.

  Now, we tried to act like friends. Friends who talked about our mutual interests, our days, the job at the cable company that my entire family assumed I hated even though I loved it, and her frustration over busting her ass as a paralegal without getting a raise in two years. But none of those conversations stopped us from eye-fucking each other while we had them. Or us casually touching each other, finger grazes leaving behind the residue of lust.