I wondered if he’d even answer the door.
Maybe he’d changed his mind. We had no way to contact each other, so me just turning up at nine o’clock was a shot in the dark.
But he buzzed me in and he answered his door with his shirt half unbuttoned, suit pants, his belt off, and a bonfire of heat in his eyes.
I grinned.
He stood aside.
I walked in, and he closed the door behind me. His apartment was just as nice as it was last week. The huge windows showing the lights twinkling on Darling Harbour. There was a bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter and two tumblers. He picked up the bottle. “Drink?”
“Sure.”
He poured two and handed me one, looked me right in the eye as he took a large swallow. His blond hair was neatly styled, pushed up off his face. Very different to how I left him last week.
“Have you eaten?”
“I just had dinner.” I had to stop myself from saying I met with some friends for dinner. He didn’t know about Terrence or Mara, or any of my friends. Or anything about me. That’s not what this was.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d turn up,” he said.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.” He finished the rest of his vodka in one go. “I haven’t been home long. Wasn’t sure if I should just answer the door naked . . .”
I laughed at that. “I wouldn’t have minded.”
Staring right at me, he undid another button, then another, and let his shirt fall from his shoulders. He tossed it onto the couch. His body was creamy white, smooth, and lean. I wondered if he was a swimmer or a runner. He looked like he might be a swimmer . . .
Then he undid his pants and slowly unzipped the fly. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight,” he admitted, his voice rough and low. “I have high expectations after last week.”
I laughed, then finished my vodka, slid the glass onto the counter, and pulled off my shirt. “I better not disappoint.”
His grin widened, his stare darkened, and he took a backward step toward his bedroom. “You better not.”
I pulled off my boots, already getting hard in anticipation. This little game of foreplay, the suggestive words, the fire in his eyes was fucking hot.
I undid the button of my jeans and his mouth opened, wanting, needing. So I pounced on him, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. He grunted, opening his mouth for me, leaning flush against me.
I walked him backwards into his bedroom, all but carrying him, threw him onto the bed, and climbed on top of him. I licked up his stomach, bit his nipple, his collarbone, jaw, his lips. I gave him my tongue and he fucking loved it.
“I’m going to fuck you three times again,” I murmured into his mouth.
He arched up into me; his erection twitched between us. His lithe body felt on fire. “Then get my fucking pants off,” he rasped out. “And do what you want with me.”
Sweet mother of God, those were some dangerous words.
He was teetering on that edge of control. That line between desperate and wanting to stay in control. So I dug my fingers into his hip and teased his lips with my tongue. “Oh, I plan to. I’m gonna plant my cock in your tight little body soon enough. But I’m gonna make you want it a little more yet.”
Chapter Three
Michael
I’m very well aware that telling a virtual stranger to ‘do what you want with me’ was probably not a good idea. But he was so fucking sexy, and his body, his hands and his mouth, and that huge cock I could feel . . .
Apparently that was all it took for me to throw my dignity and self-preservation out the window.
But then he said the thing, the thing about planting his cock in me, and I was gone. My brain short-circuited and my balls took over.
The next thing I knew I was face down in my pillow with my arse in the air getting the best rim job of my life.
I’ve mentioned his tongue before, right?
And his fingers?
They bear mentioning again.
I was considering making a shrine to them when all of a sudden, they were gone and he was sliding his cock into me.
Slow, deep, perfect.
He gripped my hips. “Oh fuck.”
I fisted my pillow and took him in. “Oh god.”
He eased back, then pushed in again, giving me a moment to adjust before beginning a steady pace, fucking me as he wanted.
As I wanted.
I came with him buried to the hilt inside me, and he followed straight after. I could feel him come. I could feel his cock pulse and fill the condom.
And that was just round one.
We showered and then spent a good amount of time making out on the couch. He was ticklish, which was funny. When I dragged my fingernails over his ribs, he squirmed and laughed, a magical throaty rumble, then grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head and kissed me until I gave in.
Then he took me back to my bed for round two.
And somewhere before the sun came up, he squeezed in round three.
I was lying on the bed, exhausted, every muscle spent, and very, very sated. He was having another quick shower and I was trying hard not to fall asleep.
“So,” his voice woke me. “Next Friday?”
“Yes, please and thank you.”
He laughed. “Though I probably should put in a disclaimer now to avoid future disappointment . . .”
I smiled at him. “And what’s that?”
“Twice really is adequate. Some would say great, even. Three is a milestone seldom reached.”
I laughed and held up three fingers. “You set this precedent, not me.”
“Nine o’clock?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Naked when you open the door, I hope.”
I groaned out a laugh as I rolled over. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Please don’t consider me rude if I don’t walk you out. But I seem to be having a little difficulty keeping my eyes open.”
He laughed as he left the room. I heard the front door latch close, and I was asleep.
“Morning,” Carolyne said brightly as I walked into the office.
I gave her a smile. “Good morning.”
She handed me some messages. “Staff meeting at eight thirty.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I made my way to my office. I worked for CREA, one of the biggest corporate real estate companies in Australia. We had a staff, nation-wide, of almost four hundred. There were over sixty in this branch alone. We dealt with corporate spaces, offices, retail, and industrial, amongst others. I specialised in retail, sales and leases, in the central business district of Sydney.
I studied markets and trends, tailoring solutions and pairing the right retailer with the right high-profile assets. I’d moved rather fast through the ranks because I was good at my job, which no doubt pissed a lot of the old-timers off. At twenty-eight years old, I had my own office overlooking the city and my sights set firmly on the Managing Director of Retail’s desk.
The eight-thirty meeting was a rundown on targets and profitability, clients and accounts. Same old, same old. Until my boss declared the meeting over and gave me a nod. “Michael, can you stay back a second?”