by Claire Adams
My cock hardened while I watched her breath rise and fall. She sighed softly and turned over, revealing her naked hips from under the covers. I knew that if I waited there much longer, I’d be tearing the blanket off and pounding into her, but I didn’t want to wake her up. She looked so peaceful. I put on a pair of track pants and an old shirt and walked down the hall into the gym.
I hopped on the treadmill and turned it on to a walking pace while I focused on my breath—in my nose and out my mouth, over and over, hoping to distract myself from the way my cock swung back and forth while I walked. It rubbed against my pants. The head burned, and my blood flowed.
I wanted to run back into the bedroom and rail through her, but something told me it was a bad idea. I turned the speed up and started jogging, still clinging to the idea that I could focus on anything other than the goddess laying on my bed.
I turned the speed up higher, thinking the faster pace would clear my head as my lungs strained to keep up with the rest of my body. Beads of sweat fell down my forehead over my face. I wiped them away, but they kept coming.
I closed my eyes to block the sweat from getting into them, but when I did, I saw her in the shower with her head back and water streaming down her neck. I turned the speed up and raised the volume on the TV, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of her screaming when she came.
The treadmill wasn’t working. I needed to push myself even harder. I laid down on the bench press and started my reps. “One,” I grunted. “Two, three, four.” It sounded just like when I pushed through her. I lifted the weight up and set it on the bar.
There wasn’t any point in working out if I couldn’t work off my pent-up energy. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, or why I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d spent countless hours dreaming about women, but this was different.
Normally, I thought about women so I could get off. When I thought about Maria, there was a burst of excitement and wonder. I wanted to pick her brain and find out everything about her. This was a genuine emotional interest, not a shallow fantasy.
I walked back in my room quietly to see if she was awake. She had her back turned, and her chest rose and fell. I couldn’t just kick her out like I normally would. We’d had too much fun, and I didn’t want her to leave right away. I decided to go down to the kitchen and kick the girls out so I could make us both some breakfast.
I began with eggs, scrambled with a touch of cream to get the perfect consistency. Then pancakes. Some with blueberries and others with chocolate chips. Then I fried up an entire package of bacon and sausages. I knew it was a lot, and most of it would go to feeding the staff, but I wanted to make breakfast an event.
I added some greens to garnish the platter and poured up three bottles of syrup: maple, strawberry, and blackberry. Then I walked out back to cut a rose for her. She deserved some appreciation after everything she’d put up with.
I almost felt bad. I knew she didn’t feel comfortable getting paid, but I didn’t feel comfortable using her. Any arrangement we made would have to be completely platonic. A business deal was the best way to set that boundary, and she deserved the money. I could tell that she wasn’t used to it.
Still, in a perfect world, none of this would be happening. I had fought for years to control my sex drive. I pushed it down and wore out my hand. I waited out my cravings, but it just made things worse. In the end, I’d just end up screwing the first woman I saw, and it broke hearts. I wasn’t a predator. I didn’t want to hurt any of these women. I hated it, but I couldn’t control myself. Any woman I was with would have to take on that burden.
When I walked back upstairs to check on her, my stomach jumped. The covers had fallen down her chest, revealing a rosy swatch of nipple. I had the food waiting outside the door and laid down beside her. I wanted to stroke her face and wake her up with a kiss. I wanted to do that every morning, but it was just too dangerous. We couldn’t do this again. I’d already gone too far.
Chapter Sixteen
Mercedes
A warm band of light streamed in through the curtains and fell on my face. I heard the sound of Jake breathing and felt his arm around me. I shot up.
“Good morning,” he said. The light beat against his ruffled, golden hair.
“Good morning.” I stretched my arms up and looked at the clock beside his nightstand. It was already 9.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve got to call my parents. They’re probably freaking out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I know how it sounds.” I blushed. “They’ve got a lot on their plates. Worrying is sort of a family pastime.”
“It’s perfectly understandable.” He reached down and grabbed my pants to hand me my phone.
“Thanks, I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry, I have something for you.” I’d never seen him so excited, almost innocent.
I went into the bathroom and closed the door to call my mother. She didn’t answer at first, but she called me right back as soon as I got off the phone. “Hello?”
“What happened?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve called you. I stayed the night at Loren’s.”
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed.
“How’s Dad?”
“He’s fine. I left a couple hours after you. When I got home, he was sleeping.”
“I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone like this.”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“We’ll talk about this later. I’ll be home soon.” When I hung up and walked into the bedroom, there was a food cart sitting next to the bed with a bowl of strawberries and a mountain of breakfast food. “You rock.” I flopped onto the bed next to Jake.
“Well, I am hard.” He pulled the blanket back to show off his pup tent sticking out of his track pants.
“Yeah?” I grabbed a strawberry off the cart and tried to feed it to him, but he snagged it from me and stuffed it in my mouth.
A drop of juice fell down the side of my mouth. He licked it off, hitting the sensitive space on the edge of my lips. “We have bacon, sausage, eggs, and pancakes.” He leaned over to the edge of the bed. “And this.” He pulled a rose off the bottom of the cart and handed it to me.
I smelled it and set it aside on the nightstand. “Thank you,” I said.
“I had to do something.” He grabbed another strawberry and popped it in his mouth while I took one of the plates off the cart and filled it with eggs. “So I made you breakfast.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “Do you like to cook?”
“Oh, yeah. Normally, the kitchen is for the girls.”
“Right, a woman’s place,” I said.
“Exactly, but whenever I get a chance, I like to kick them out and make something for myself.”
“What’s your favorite thing to make?” I asked.
“Curry,” he said. “I need it in my life.”
“Really?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes,” he said. “And I make it from scratch, none of that nasty paste they ship in.”
“I like paste.”
“That’s just because you haven’t tried my curry.”
“Do you like it hot?” I asked.
“That’s the whole point, but there’s a way to do it. You boil the peppers first. That way, it’ll be hot, but it won’t burn.”
“You’re a genius.” I took a bite of my eggs while he made himself a plate. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me. He made a concerted effort and tried to focus on his plate, but every time I took a bite or looked at him, it was too much. He had to take a peek.
I kept my eyes on my food and pushed down the fluttering feeling in my stomach. “I don’t understand.”
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve got everything. You can cook. You’re rich. You work out, and you’re one of the best lays I’ve ever had. Why haven’t you settled down?”
“It’s just
not me.” He stuffed a pile of eggs in his mouth. I was certain he did it to keep from having to say anything else.
“I don’t understand why it has to be hookers.”
He kept chewing, a clear sign that the conversation was over before it started. I didn’t know what I was doing anyway. Things were starting to get dangerous. I’d seen the way Starla and Maddie looked at him. I couldn’t let myself turn sour like that. I wasn’t that kind of woman, but we were both enjoying ourselves too much. I was trapped.
I finished my food, then got up to get dressed. He grabbed me and threw me back down on the bed and flipped me over. By the time we were done, I was so tired that I could barely get up again, but I knew that he was getting restless.
“I’ll bet you have to get to work,” I said, still laying on the bed while he hunted down some clothes to wear.
“I always have to work. I feel like I spend more time trying to find ways to get out of it than I do working.” He popped his head out of the closet. “You’re the perfect distraction.”
“That’s how I feel.” I pulled my pants on and grabbed my shirt.
“What do I distract you from?” he asked when he walked out and zipped up his pants.
“I don’t know,” I lied. “Just life in general, I guess.”
He nodded his head. There was a clear space between us. I knew nothing about him, and he knew nothing about me. That was the way he liked it, and I wasn’t going to open up. That was one place that neither of us could move into.
We dressed silently, he handed me my money, and I left. There was something missing. We had a quick goodbye, but no hug, no kiss. It wasn’t natural. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Didn’t he want more? He seemed to. He enjoyed our time together, and he must’ve known that he didn’t have to pay me to be with him. Something was stopping him from taking that step.
I never thought I would get into something like this. I was a sensible person. I never had one-night stands. I rarely even looked at men. I had my priorities, but I had my father to think about. Maybe he had something just as compelling driving him. Why else would he give up on love?
Chapter Seventeen
Jake
I had two financial reports to look over and a summary to write for the board. They needed it on their desk by tomorrow morning. Most of my job was trying to prove to them that I deserved their approval. Really, they were just pompous senior citizens who thought their bank accounts entitled them to my company.
I shouldn’t have taken the company public. Now everyone and their mother was entitled to a piece of what I owned. I’d made the decision because I knew it would make me rich. Now I had to work every second of my day trying to justify that decision.
I designed the report with brightly-colored bars. Red for December, blue for January, and, of course, pink for February because of Valentine’s Day. I hovered my mouse over December. “Ho, ho, ho,” a virtual Santa chuckled.
I wanted to shoot somebody. My cock was so hard it pressed up against the bottom of my desk. Every time I moved, the wood ground against the head, and it made me shiver. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to drift off into the constant stream of images that’d been haunting me all day.
I laid in bed and watched Maria sleep. Now I fed her a strawberry. Then I flipped her over. Then I ravaged her body. The images in my head did nothing to suppress the desire burning inside me. But they wouldn’t go away, just like my throbbing erection.
I couldn’t touch myself to take the edge off. Not at work. It was one of my rules. I had to maintain complete professionalism at work. Even with a private office and bathroom, the risk was too great. If someone caught me with my pants down, the entire company would hear about it by the end of the day. I resisted the temptation to break my rule and held onto the arms of my chair tightly. My attention needed to be on the reports for the board. I had to focus, but my mind only wanted to focus on Maria.
I loved the way she looked when she opened her eyes and saw me lying next to her in bed that morning. She seemed surprised at first, then thrilled. I should’ve canceled everything and refused to let her off the bed.
Quarterly reports. I moved the mouse over February, and a stream of hearts fell down the screen. The sound of a sitcom audience fawning over something adorable played from the computer speakers. It was sappy and cheesy, but it made me smile, nonetheless. She was so adorable when she tried to feed me a strawberry.
Focus, dammit. I had to get this done. The board was already talking about my lack of interest in company matters. It was just petty gossip and would be easily squashed, but I didn’t like showing weakness around them.
I was weak. I could barely keep my cock down, and my heart pounded in my chest. I needed to see Maria again, but what would happen if I did? I let her sleep in my bed and made her breakfast instead of kicking her out. Now I couldn’t even work because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I could almost feel the heat when I pounded into her. I could almost hear her voice. The sound of her screaming in ecstasy was like a drug. I needed my fix. Why wait? I would just torture myself until I called her, but this was too dangerous. I had to fight her off.
I went back to my Word document and copied March’s sales from the analyst’s graph. Maybe I could call her and just have a quick night. I didn’t have to detach completely, just enough to keep from getting trapped. I pulled out my phone to dial her number. Once I got a taste, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I knew how our night would end up. I’d have her every which way until I was too tired to stand. She’d probably fall asleep at my place again.
That was one of my most important rules. I never let the girls sleep over. They always woke up with the wrong impression. It was the same thing with cuddling. Once they got their hands on me and closed their eyes, I was theirs to scream at and possess all they wanted.
Maria wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t petty or dramatic, and she didn’t feel like she could possess me. She was a thinker. When it came down to it, and I had to call things off, she wouldn’t get sour. She wouldn’t try to screw me over or destroy my life. She’d be disappointed, sure, but she’d internalize it and stay quiet. She’d probably try to play it off, but I’d know. I’d see it in her eyes, the way she wouldn’t look at me and how quickly she left.
I could already see it when I handed her the money. She’d stare at it with sad eyes, take it, and walk off. I felt terrible every time I handed it to her, but at least I knew I was doing something good for her. If I was a different kind of man, I would’ve kept the money and screwed her anyway, regardless of how she felt, but I wasn’t that kind of guy. That was the problem.
I used hookers because it was easier. They knew the deal. They took their money and left. It was easy. With Maria, it wasn’t so easy.
I turned back to my report and pasted the most important statistics in the right places while my mind drifted back to those moments. It was mindless work, not enough to distract me from the real issue. That was what I needed: a distraction.
I stared down at my phone. I could call her. She’d be at my house whenever I wanted. It was so easy to slip into it. I had to stop this. I dialed my friend Matt’s number.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound depressed, but I knew it showed.
“How are you?” Matt asked. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”
“I know. I’ve been so busy with work.”
“Work? Yeah, right. It’s the girls. You’ve probably got four at a time coming to your house.”
I ignored the joke and got to the heart of why I’d called. “Listen, Matt. You want to grab a drink tonight? Maybe O’Malley’s?”
“Sounds good. Just gotta tie up some loose ends at the office.”
“Me, too.” I stared at my computer. “I’ll give you a call when I’m off.”
I hung up and rushed through my reports, copying and pasting the most relevant numbers and writing quick par
agraphs at the end. The board wouldn’t be very happy with it. They were always looking for a new angle to criticize me, but this was the best they were going to get.
I stood up, and my legs cramped. I felt like I’d been sitting in a car for 12 hours straight. My cock still throbbed, but it was small enough that I could reach into my pants and tuck it back. The receptionist, Moira, didn’t notice anything when I walked out. She was too busy with her game of solitaire.
O’Malley’s was a hole in the wall downtown. The kind of place men went after a good day of hard labor or a bad night with their wives. I preferred this kind of place to clubs or fancier places. No women fawned over me here, no annoying lights flashed in my eyes, and the music was quiet enough to have an actual conversation. My company owned the kind of places I hate, but only because they were lucrative.
I saw Matt, with his bright red hair and red face, sitting in our booth in the back. “Hey, man.” He got up to greet me. “How are you?”
“Tired.”
We walked back up to the bar, and I ordered a pint of something dark. “They’ve got me staring at these ridiculous reports all day. I can’t even see straight.”
“I know what you mean.” He took a drink of his pint, and the bartender handed me mine. “I’m handling four cases at once right now, and all of them are guilty as sin.”
“Anything interesting?” I asked.
“Cocaine dealer that killed his wife when he caught her cheating. He dresses like he lives in South L.A.”
“With those ridiculous button-up plaid shirts?”
“Yup.” Matt and I walked back to the booth. “So what’s up? Having any fun?”
“I’ve been around.”
“Well, that’s a given,” he said and smirked. “I don’t get it, honestly. Half of them look like a bee stung their faces. The other half look like they were made in China.”