by J. P. James
“You can’t deny that you loved what happened between us in your kitchen and later in your room.” He lowers me a little so that I can feel the thick bulge of cock trapped between us. “And if you don’t want to admit it, we can always ask your neighbors. I’m sure they got a good look.” His grin is wicked and shameless.
“Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed,” I mutter, burying my face in his neck. “You’ve turned me into an exhibitionist.”
“Don’t be, baby. I love it that you’re loud. I love knowing how much you love my body, and how you can’t get enough.”
But I’m not embarrassed about that because he’s right - I loved every second of the time we spent between the sheets. I’m just embarrassed and a little hesitant about the way the billionaire has me wrapped around his finger. It’s unsettling, and then doubts come crowding my mind again. Maybe I shouldn’t be scared. Maybe I should let myself go because how often do you meet a gorgeous man who wants you with no holds barred? Maybe it’s time to live a little.
Laughing shyly, I rub back against him, our cocks dueling a bit. He groans, pulling me close for another explosive kiss, and I give into the ecstasy.
8
Milo
It’s been five days, and I haven’t heard from Neil.
The day he came over to talk about our fake arrangement felt like a life-changer. But after that long afternoon, I haven’t seen him since. I’m trying not to go all high school girl about it, but are we done? Is Neil actually a guy who only wanted to get in my pants before moving onto the next piece?
Then again he did tell me, “I’ll be back soon.” When he said it, I was ecstatic, but now I feel a little bit like a fool for believing he would be back, and for believing he wanted to create something real. After all, the man dropped twenty thousand dollars. Damn, that’s a lot of money. But maybe, it’s not a lot to him? I don’t know.
As the days pass by, I’ve really started to feel more and more like a male whore. The money is there in my account, and the cum-stained sheets are in my laundry hamper, waiting for me to make the awkward trek to the corner laundromat with my garbage bag full of clothes and my fist full of quarters. Quarters I’ve basically paid for with my body. Not that the experience had been a painful one, but still.
I didn’t come to this town to be some rich guy’s rent boy, no matter how good the sex was or how long the love sessions lasted.
With the TV on, I’m unpacking the groceries I finally bought with some of the twenty thou, just basic stuff I need, nothing extravagant. Ramen noodles, some chicken thighs, rice, spinach, and some frozen fruit to make into morning smoothies. The caviar and roast duck will have to wait until I get a more regular gig, not just this one shot deal.
“—Playing Desires one more time.”
My head jerks up from unpacking the last grocery bag when I hear the piano bar mentioned on the television. With a bag of rice in my hands, I walk slowly toward the flickering gray screen.
“What’s going on?” I ask the TV out loud.
Since the shooting, I’ve been dying to find out what’s going on with my old place of employ. But my curiosity isn’t aroused enough for me to actually go back to the location. I’ve called Gina, the bartender, plus a few other people to find out some news, but nobody seems to know what’s happening or when the place is going to re-open. Or maybe they just don’t want to tell me.
The reporter is standing in front of the closed doors of the piano bar. Caution tape circles the area behind the elegant reporter as she talks about the shooting and other events happening at Playing Desires that I didn’t know anything about.
“According to confidential police sources, the dangerous situation at the bar began with the mafia. The deceased owner, Milton Harmsworth, may have made a deal with an un-named mafia connection and was unable to pay back what he owed, leading to his murder late last week.”
What? But in cool and unbothered tones, she goes on to say that the cops are still working on the case and have come up with a couple of leads. But for the time being, the bar is permanently closed, and the owner’s son has made a statement that he has no intention of opening up until everything is resolved. The screen flashes to an image of Milton’s son, James, ducking into a building and trying to cover his face with an umbrella even though it isn’t raining.
Despite this, the cameras manage to catch a few shots of his face. James looks terrible. His face is drawn and gray, with terror pulling the corners of his eyes tight. He’s obviously upset by the death of his father.
“Recorded live today is his statement to the media. Let’s have a listen-”
But a knock on the door interrupts the voice on the television. I nearly jump out of my skin. Cautiously, I approach the door. I don’t exactly live in a nice neighborhood, and it’s best to be careful.
“Who is it?” I call out.
A muffled noise answers me, but I’m too far from the door to hear exactly what the voice says. Slowly, I approach the door and look through the peephole.
The air whooshes from my lungs because Neil’s handsome face looks straight at me, although he probably can’t see me. My shoulders sag with relief. Although I don’t know the billionaire all that well, something about him makes me feel safe. It doesn’t make sense, but I trust him. With trembling fingers, I unlock and open the door.
“Hi,” is my simple greeting.
“Good evening, handsome.” Neil greets me with a quick, minty-tasting kiss and walks past me into my apartment. He’s carrying a sizable package in his hands. “You’re looking delicious today.”
I look down at myself and then shrug. What’s delicious about a tank top and sweatpants?
“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing toward the large box he’s carrying.
“It’s a suit,” he says with what I’m coming to realize is his signature grin.
With a dramatic gesture, he pulls the top off the box. Sure enough, inside is a natty blue suit, gleaming with newness. It’s beautiful, from the notched labels to the silky sheen of the fabric.
“They don’t put these on hangers?” I ask, flummoxed. “They come in boxes now?”
Neil laughs. “Where I come from, they put suits in whatever container you choose. And I chose a box,” he says.
Oh okay. My brow scrunches. “But what’s it for?” The blue suit is way too small for him. Neil is muscled and wide, and this is for someone much slimmer and smaller.
“It’s my gift to you, what else?” Smiling that dashing smile of his, he holds it up to my chest, as if taking my size. “I hope you like it because I’d love to see it on your incredible body. Tonight.”
Wait a minute. This is too weird. We have crazy sex, then he disappears for five days, and now he’s back like nothing’s wrong? I need to give him a piece of my mind, and I open my mouth to tell him so.
9
Neil
“Tonight?” Milo asks with those wide brown eyes still focused on the suit pressed up against his chest. “What’s going on tonight?”
The outfit shimmers subtly in the light, the wool fabric subtle yet elegant. I grin at him before turning towards the hallway leading to his bedroom with the garment held carefully in my hands. “It’s for your performance tonight,” I tell him over my shoulder.
“What?” His footsteps follow behind me, and I smile to myself at the disbelief in his voice. I don’t blame him for not believing me because last time, I admitted that there had been no performance, period. So for there suddenly to be a performance is a bit of whiplash.
But there are some words I uttered which are absolutely true. I didn’t lie when I told him he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever known. One taste of his lips and I wanted another kiss. One long night in bed with that toned body, and I wanted more. But even worse – or better, I’m still not sure yet – is that when I left Milo in his little apartment surrounded by his meager belongings, I wanted to stay. That night, his small apartment had more appeal than any high end hotel, or even my penthouse.
Even with a sauna, en suite bathroom, and a home gym, I’d wanted to remain with Milo in Brooklyn. It didn’t matter if we made love, or sat on his couch and talked about what kind of music we liked.
That had shocked the hell out of me.
Casually, I’d told him I’d see him soon, but I also needed time to process the intensity of my feelings for him. I don’t really know him, after all, so why was my attraction so intense? And now, I’m back with a suit and a more authentic proposition for the man who deserves that and a hell of a lot more.
Just like the last time I was here, Milo’s bedroom is as neat and orderly as the rest of his apartment. The full-sized bed is freshly made up with two burgundy pillows and a patchwork quilt with burgundy and shades of yellow swirled through it.
The bed is up against the wall, so there’s only one bedside table, and it has a book of sheet music, a glass of water, and Milo’s cell phone on it. A plain, Turkish-style rug on the floor and a comfortable-looking armchair near the window complete the furniture in the room. The walls have photos of him and a red-haired girl I don’t recognize, as well as some kids and a guy who, even in pictures, looks at the redhead like she hung the moon.
Overall, it’s a cute room and very personal. It’s also about as different from my bedroom as you can get. My space is enormous, but there are only two sticks of furniture inside – the massive king-size bed, and a dresser. There’s nothing on the walls, nor is there anything decorating the dresser top. It’s impersonal because that’s how I live my life. But this is nice, and I adore Milo’s decorating. I could spend a whole weekend or longer in here just chatting with him because it feels like a home.
“What are you really doing here, Neil?” he asks warily. The man comes up behind me, frowning, his dark eyes flickering between me and the suit.
I whirl around.
“I already told you. To drop this off.” With utmost care, I drape the outfit over the armchair by the window. It shimmers elegantly in the light.
“But I don’t believe you,” he says with a note of desperation in his voice. “I can’t. Not after the last time.”
And that’s my own fault, I know. After kicking my shoes off and tucking them out of the way, I sit on the edge of his bed. “I was a dick the last time I was here. I shouldn’t have done that to you. I shouldn’t have made things up.”
His eyes narrow at me in suspicion. After another look at the outfit, he sinks into the chair by the window, watching me intently. “I just don’t know, Neil. This is so bizarre in so many ways.”
I interrupt him with one hand held up.
“But this time it’s serious. It’s real,” I say. “We’re going to Alexandra’s. It’s one of the best places in town to show off a talent like yours. It has a large ballroom and a grand piano that’s all yours to play.”
This time, Milo’s eyes widen with interest instead of narrowing with suspicion. “Seriously? I’m... I don’t want to look like a fool, Neil. Are you making this up?”
I shake my head.
“I promise you, that’s not what’s happening,” I say, lowering my voice. He looks so unsure in that big chair, disbelieving and vulnerable. I want to shelter him from everything, even from myself. I get up and cross the room. Slowly, I pull him to his feet.
“It’s true, sweetheart. Alexandra’s is expecting you to show up tonight and knock their socks off. You’ll do that, won’t you?”
The question seems to settle him in some way. Milo frowns but doesn’t pull away as I tug him toward the bathroom.
“Okay, I’ll go,” he finally says softly.
“Good,” I say with a satisfied grin. “Now let’s get you changed.”
In the bathroom, I undress him and wait while he has a quick but thorough shower. We’re already so close that he doesn’t even protest as I pull off his clothes and push him into the stall. Through the shower curtain, I see his masculine shape with water cascading down over his thick thighs and broad chest. Of course, my cock jerks from the sight.
“This is amazing,” he calls out over the sound of water. “Even I know what Alexandra’s is, and I don’t get out that much. Wow.”
“Oh believe it, sweetheart,” I say silkily. “Your time to shine has come.”
Once he finishes in the shower, I help him dry off. As he sits on the edge of the bed, I rub lotion into his firm skin. Under my touch, he’s as pliant as an orchid, and the way he surrenders to me goes straight to my cock. But tonight is not about me. It’s about him.
In the bedroom, I help him into a pair of boxers. The silk doesn’t feel nearly as soft as his skin, but I love the sensation of it between my fingers as I slide the material over his flesh. Milo shivers with pleasure as I touch him. Perfect. He’s completely aware of me.
“You’re a handsome man,” I tell him, placing a light kiss on his shoulder. “I feel so lucky to be able to touch you like this.”
His dark eyes look up me in surprise. Then he licks his lips as his lashes flutter shut. “Oh, Neil.”
Milo is too tantalizing to resist. Groaning deep in my chest, I drop to my knees in front of him and pull down his boxers. As expected, his cock flies out, almost hitting me in the face. He’s hard and huge already, dripping from the tip just the way I like it. He moans as I suck the head into my mouth.
“Yes Neil,” Milo breathes. “I love how you touch me.”
Damn, the words turn me on. I groan again and latch my lips to his cock; I suck until he’s clenching his hands in my hair and groaning my name. He’s so gorgeous and desirable; I can’t get enough of his taste as a small spurt of semen jets into my mouth. Hungrily, I swallow, enjoying the essence of this man. My cock is like an iron bar in my pants, aching to be set free, but I keep it zipped up. At least for now.
All too soon, Milo’s calling out his orgasm and pumping deep into the back of my throat. I swallow every last drop, savoring the salty sweet taste.
“Good boy.” I kiss his thighs as I pull back, and then I wipe my mouth on his boxers and stuff them in my jacket pocket.
After feasting on him, my cock is hard and ready to go. I held back while he gasped and came into my mouth, but now, I unzip and free my aching meat with a groan. I drag him from the chair to straddle me.
“Like this?” he pants, lifting himself up a bit.
I nod, reaching for the lube in my pocket. I brought some just in case, and I’m glad it’s being used.
“Just like that,” I affirm, slowly spreading his asshole and rubbing the K-Y onto his sensitive rim. He moans, his eyes falling shut, but then the man raises himself onto his knees as I position my cock at his entrance. Slowly, oh so slowly, he lowers his ass until my entire dick is buried in that anal channel.
“Oh fuck,” I grunt. “You’re so tight.”
He mewls, unable to move.
“You’re so big,” he gasps, squatting over me with his butt embedded on my dick. “How are we going to do this?”
“Easy,” I say. “Just relax, and I’m going to fuck up into you.” With that, I begin pushing up, and then pulling down, watching with avid eyes as my thick meat disappears and then reappears from his asshole. Milo loves it, and his rim grips me as I move up and down.
“Oh,” is the groan that’s torn from his chest.
“Almost there,” I gasp. With that, my cock explodes inside of him, and Milo comes again as well, crying out my name. Gallons of semen gush into his bottom while his anus pumps and pulses, milking me dry. Huge spurts of his cum cover my chest, and I rub it into my skin even as my own dick goes wild.
After it’s over, we pant against each other like we just finished running a race. Slowly, we come back down to earth, kissing and smiling gently at each other. The moment is special, and we gaze into each other’s eyes, savoring the intimacy.
But then Milo climbs off my still-hard dick with a delicious squelching sound, and I wipe myself off with his boxers before putting myself back to rights.
His eyes are soft and dazed, but he
looks happy. And damn if that doesn’t make me feel good to realize that I’m the one who put that look on his face. I want to keep making him happy, however long this lasts.
It’s a stupid thought, and I know it is as soon it pops into my mind. I mean, shit, Milo and I aren’t even in a relationship. But I want more from him than a one-night, or even a two-night stand.
As I help him into the suit, the feelings get more and more powerful in my chest, and much too strong to deny. They’re about to burst through my chest cavity and out into the world as Milo stands in front of me wearing the perfectly-cut suit. He’s charming, handsome, and sweet – in short, everything I want in a man. My throat closes up as I take in his handsome face with the chiseled jaw and sculpted mouth because the truth is now clear: I want Milo in my life so we can see where this goes.
10
Milo
With one gesture after another, Neil Woods is pulling me over the cliff in love with him.
God, I shouldn’t even think like that. Although he’s amazing in bed, it’s more than just the sex that makes me want to curl up into his arms and never leave. It’s more than his body, and it’s even more than the way he smiles at me when he knows he should be apologizing to me instead. It’s everything.
But now, as I walk up to the small stage of Alexandra’s Restaurant and Bar, maybe the best and most exclusive venue on the island of Manhattan, all I can think about is Neil’s sperm dripping out of me and down the backs of my thighs.
I’m filthy from our sex. Absolutely dirty, to be honest. If I turn the right way, I can even smell the combined cream from our session because it’s rising off me like steam.
Yet I have to pretend that everything’s okay, and that another man’s semen isn’t seeping from my ass at this very moment. My hands shake as I sit on the piano bench and arrange everything to my liking. It’s just warm-ups right now, so there aren’t many people around, thank goodness. My breath comes faster than normal, and my head spins.
