by Melinda Minx
He approaches and holds out his hand for me. I take it, and he helps me down. I look around, and I see that on the other side of the helipad there’s a pool, a terraced garden, and entire outdoor kitchen complete with grill, and dozens of other little things that are nicer than my entire apartment. And this is just Eric’s roof.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
“This is a new building,” Eric says. “I got it on the ground floor—”
“You mean the top floor,” I say.
He laughs. “You know what I mean. And it’s the top five floors, actually. You’d think that having billions would make getting a place like this easy, but I’m competing with a bunch of Russian and Chinese oligarchs who want properly like this to safely park their graft money outside of their respective countries.”
“Sounds fun,” I say.
Eric takes me by the arm. “Let me show you around.”
“This is the pool,” he says, “Obviously. And there’s a hot tub there. It’s one of those infinity pools, which just means it goes right to the edge like that.”
I see what he means. It looks as if the pool water is going to just fall off the roof, and it looks like it would scare the crap out of me if I swam anywhere near the edge.
“The helipad is nice to have,” he says. “I used to use it to avoid traffic…”
“But then you got a bike,” I say, laughing.
“It’s a really excessive way to travel within the city. I mostly use it for quick trips out of the city. And for impressing people I like.”
His white teeth gleam at me, and I blush. I need to remind myself that I am still upset. Or mad at him. I try to tell myself I’m just upset, but I think there’s some real anger there too, and I shouldn’t just swallow it.
“It’s a bit chilly for the roof,” he says. “I have a fire pit here, but let’s go inside for now.”
I nod, and he takes me toward a doorway. It leads to a set of glass steps that spiral down to a sprawling space covered in white marble.
Each piece of modern looking furniture probably is worth more than my yearly pay at the Fixed Gear, and the paintings hanging on the wall are breathtaking.
“Wow,” I say, “I didn’t know you were into art…”
“Huh,” he says, “Funny how we haven’t talked about that yet. It seems like we have a lot to look forward to still.”
He licks his lips as he says it, and I remember last night—the reason I was coming over in the first place. I try to swallow, but it gets stuck in my throat.
Maybe we can have make-up sex, but making up usually requires fighting first.
“This one,” he says, pointing to a super-wide horizontal frame covering one of his walls, “Is not by a famous artist, but she will be famous. It’s an investment.”
The painting looks like an abstract and surreal depiction of some kind of whale-like creature. It’s much longer than a real whale would be. The whale is purple, and the water is a shade of aqua-green. As I get closer, I see that the purple paint is laid on thick, raising at least an inch off the canvas. I walk from the front of the whale to the back, and I see the thick paint transform into scales. I lean closer in to see if the scales aren’t just painted. They look real.
“They’re real,” Eric says.
The canvas is at least 12 feet wide, and as I get closer to the back, I see that the whale has tiny little legs sticking out of its back. I step back and take the whole painting in again. The tiny little legs are pressing against the seafloor, and the top of the whale is floating up toward the surface.
“I don’t think it’s ready to step out of the ocean,” I say.
Eric nods, and then I feel his hand grasp my waist. “Maybe it just wants to have a look outside.” His hand slides down, partially touching my ass.
I pull away from his grasp and face him. “The tabloids.”
He sucks in a breath. “We knew it would be bad.”
“I can’t help but notice,” I say, trying not to sound too bitter, “that it didn’t make you look all that bad.”
“I noticed it too, Ruth, and I’m sorry. You realize I can’t control the media, nor can I control all the double standards about class and gender and—”
“Just stop,” I say, holding up a hand.
“Okay,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’m happy to make a public statement.”
“That would make you look even better, wouldn’t it?” I ask.
He laughs. “Sounds like I can’t win here.”
“I’m not trying to be a bitch, Eric. I just want to make sure that you aren’t... benefitting at my expense.”
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“I need to know that you are... that you just wandered into the bike shop that day, and you saw me, and for whatever inexplicable reason you just liked me. Is that what happened?”
13
Eric
Fuck.
I’ve been walking down a somewhat windy road, but it’s been straight. Ever since I accepted the bet from Dmitri, I’ve been on a singular path with Ruth. Now, I just hit a fork.
This is my last—and only—chance to come clean. If I had told her about the bet any earlier than this, she’d have never looked at me again. If I lie now, and try to tell her later, she won’t forgive the lie.
But now. Right now. I can probably tell her and still keep her.
And then I’d lose the bet, and Dmitri would force me to dump her in humiliating fashion. If I refused to, he’d go after Ruth in such a way that she’d wish I’d just dumped her.
So there’s a fork in the road, but I don’t have any real choice. I have to lie to her right now, and hope that I win the bet.
The right thing to do isn’t always the smart thing to do. I have to protect my business and Ruth from Dmitri.
If I win, I never have to tell her about the bet. It’s not right, but it’s smart. Or so I tell myself. Now I’m not only lying to Ruth but to myself as well.
“That’s all it was,” I say. “I’d spent too much time on pointless flings... and I saw something real in you.”
I feel like an asshole as soon as the words leave my lips. Technically though, what I’m saying is true. I did see something in her, and I was tired of fucking around with shallow supermodels.
Hell, I’ll show her how serious I am. My cock cannot lie, and it’s hard.
“So why did you come here tonight, Ruth?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “To find out the truth.”
“I see, and are you satisfied?”
She looks down nervously, but then raises her eyes to meet mine. Her face is red, and my cock throbs at seeing how shy she is.
“Not entirely,” she says.
I wrap my hand around her back and pull her into me. Our lips meet, and I begin to kiss all of the doubt out of her. I walk her back toward the couch, until the backs of her knees press into the leather causing her to sit. Not satisfied with that, I push until she’s flat on her back, and I’m on top of her. My silk tie hangs down, draping across her sweater reminding me that we have way too many clothes on.
Her lips part as I look down at her. I shrug out of my jacket and toss it onto the ground, and then reach for my tie. Ruth stops me, grabbing my wrists, she pulls my hands away and reaches up toward the knot in my tie.
“It’s soft,” she says, stroking the silk fabric between her fingers.
“Take it off,” I order.
She pulls at the knot, loosening it. A few short seconds later she slides it out of my collar. Bringing the tie to her nose, she breathes it in, humming in the back of her throat at my scent. My scent. Her eyes meet mine again, and she reaches up to my shirt, her small fingers lingering on the buttons.
Slowly, she unbuttons my shirt until my chest is exposed, but my cock is still hard against my pants, and painfully confined. I tug at my belt and pull, but Ruth stops me once again.
“Let me,” she whispers.
I relent. As good as it feels to see her enthusiast
ic, my impatience is getting the better at me. I watch as she pulls off my belt, and I imagine her hand grabbing my thick cock, but after she throws the belt down, she goes back up to my shirt.
I bury my lips against her neck, taking in her scent and begin to lick and tease her skin as she works down the last few buttons.
The moment the last button is opened, I pull the shirt off and throw it down. I press my body against hers, through her sweater I can feel her soft curves. Unable to help myself, I press my steel hardness against her stomach. She lets out a breathy little moan and wriggles against me.
“Ruth, I’ve been patient enough. I want you. Now.”
“Take it out,” she whimpers, looking down her body where my cock is straining against my pants.
“That’s your job,” I say, grinning.
I find that I can be patient a little longer because I want her to do it.
Ruth’s eyes widen, and her hand moves down my naked chest, across my hard abs, and finally to my waistline. Her fingers slide across the outside of my pants, and then she finds my hardness and squeezes me. The touch is equal parts relief and torture because it’s not enough. God, if her hand feels this good through my pants, how will I survive skin on skin.
“You’re so big,” she whispers, astonishment in her voice.
My cock jerks, growing harder in response to her touch. I practically groan in relief when she grabs the zipper and pulls it down, and then it’s only the thin cotton of my boxers between us.
Her hand slips into the hole of my boxers and she grips me.
“It’s so warm,” she murmurs, squeezing my cock. Her hand slides up and down my length as much as it can in the confines of my boxers. It’s the perfect tease, but I’m ready for more.
I stand and push my pants and boxers off in one quick motion, now I’m completely naked, towering over a fully dressed Ruth. Just as I’m about to fix that little inconvenience, Ruth drops to her knees in front of me.
Before I can protest, my cock is back in her hands and her mouth is close enough that I can feel her warm breath. When she doesn’t immediately take me in her mouth I look down… as if she were waiting for me, she reaches up and removes her glasses, setting them aside.
I draw in a surprised breath as she looks up at me. Her eyes are a brilliant green and are framed with long, thick lashes… the fact that something so fucking beautiful has been hiding behind those ugly glasses is a tragedy.
“Ruth,” I rasp, “You said—”
“I can’t see you from down here,” she says. “but this close… I can see him.” Her gaze returns to my cock and she smiles.
Before I can respond, her lips envelope my throbbing length and my head falls back in pure ecstasy.
She lightly sucks the head, flicking her tongue over every inch as her hand slowly pumps my cock. I’m not sure how long she teases me like that, but the moment her lips slide further down my length, taking me deep into her mouth, is heaven. With every inch she takes she sucks harder. I’m completely lost to the warm, wet heat of her mouth.
“Fuck,” I groan as I look down at her. Those big, beautiful eyes of hers are closed, but I can’t get enough of seeing her without her glasses.
I thread my fingers through her hair, holding her in place. Not willing to risk her stopping. This is just too damned good. Her eyes shoot open as I take that little bit of control away from her, but the moan that vibrates through her throat straight to my balls tells me she doesn’t mind one bit.
In fact, she starts sucking me in earnest, pulling me deeper and deeper until I’m hitting the back of her throat. My balls draw up and my spine tingles warning of my impending release, but I fight it back, not wanting to give up the feeling of her lips wrapped around me.
Her tongue swirls around me as she sucks, and I savor every last movement. Time seems to melt away, and I’m brought to the edge of orgasm once again. This time there is no holding back. I groan and thrust into her mouth, taking control of her movements with my hold on her hair. I explode in her mouth, pumping thick ropes of cum down her throat. Ruth doesn’t stop or slow down, she sucks me hard as if she’s hungry for every last drop of me.
Even when my cock is done pulsing, she doesn’t pull away. She licks and sucks until I’m completely clean, only pulling away when my cock starts to soften in her mouth. My semi-hard cock shines with her saliva, not a drop of cum left on it—Ruth swallowed it all.
Those amazing green eyes look back up at me and she smiles a pleased little smile. “You taste so good, Eric.”
I pull her up off her knees so I can get a better look at those eyes of hers. Our gazes lock as I hold her close.
“You can see me from here?” I ask.
She nods, a light blush covering her cheeks.
“You told me you couldn’t. That it wouldn’t be fair if I could see you but you couldn’t see me.”
She looks away, but I pull her chin back, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“We were sitting across the table from each other,” she explains. “I wouldn’t have been able to see you from there—not clearly.”
She pauses, but I can see that she has more to say so I remain quiet.
“When you grow up with glasses, like I wear, you get used to people not really being able to see you. It becomes a sort of mask to hide behind. If no one sees the glasses off, no one sees the real you. I didn’t trust you, not fully… until now.”
Her words are like a knife to my gut, knowing that she’s opening up to me and I’m lying to her, but it’s too late now.
“Your eyes are something else,” I say with complete sincerity.
She looks up at me through her long lashes. It’s such a shame that she can’t show those eyes to the world, but it makes me feel like a king to be the one who can see them.
I cup her cheek and kiss her lips tenderly. We kiss for long minutes until we are both panting for breath and my hands start moving over her body. I squeeze her ass, surprised at just how good it feels even through her thick jeans.
I feel her hands reach between us and fumble with her pants as she tries to undo them. I grab her wrists and pull her hands away, taking over. I get them unzipped and pull them down exposing the creamy skin of her thighs. I push her down onto the couch, then yank her pants and panties completely off in one smooth motion.
Her sweater is still on, but I’ll save that for later. Right now I need a taste of her sweet pussy.
She blushes and tries to close her legs. I shake my head. “No, you don’t get to turn shy on me now.”
She bites her lower lip and stares up at me as I spread her legs apart. Her breath catches as I kneel between her legs and press a kiss to her inner thigh. I kiss my way up until I’m just inches from her pussy.
“You’re so wet.”
Ruth’s looking at me with wide, desperate eyes, begging me to keep going. I oblige, pressing my lips to her wet, swollen outer lips. She moans, pressing her hips up, silently asking for more. I let my tongue slide between her lips, grazing against her inner folds.
“God. Please, Eric, don’t stop,” she gasps.
“I won’t stop, even if you beg me,” I promise.
I drag my tongue through her wetness, her taste hitting me like a drug. My cock goes rock hard once again, but it’ll have to wait. I lessen the pressure of my tongue as I reach her clit, barely grazing the sensitive flesh. Her hips press upward, chasing the feel of my tongue to no avail. Now it’s her turn to be patient.
I encircle her clit with my lips, licking tight circles around it, careful to leave it untouched. She wiggles beneath me, growing desperate. I flick my tongue lightly back and forth, giving her the barest hint of friction.
Low moans escape her and I look up to see her head buried in the cushion, exposing the long line of her throat. I bring my focus back down, pressing my tongue a bit harder against her as I lick back and forth.
I work her slowly, increasing the sensation ever so slightly with each passing moment. I start to feel drunk
on her—on her taste, her moans, just her. Her moans are like music, and I lose myself to her rhythm, my cock throbbing with each heartbeat.
My fingers grip her hips and ass, and my tongue presses hard against her swollen nub. She’s on the brink, but I’m not ready to let her cum just yet. Each time I feel her shudder, I slow down. Each time her moans turn into screams, I pull my tongue away.
“Eric,” she whines in desperation.
I ignore her pleas. The longer she hovers on the edge like this, the better it will feel when she finally tips over the edge. She’ll thank me for it later.
Her pussy is dripping wet as I drink her in. Even though my cock is throbbing and begging to feel what my tongue feels, I realize I could go on like this for hours. Ruth’s pleasure is mine, and knowing that she’s teetering on the edge keeps me fully satisfied.
After I’ve brought her to the edge more times than I can count, Ruth begins to convulse. I’ve been licking and sucking her with less pressure every second to hold her on that edge, but despite that she’s racing toward orgasm. It’s time, I realize, to stop holding back.
I suck her clit between my lips, lashing it with my tongue. Her entire body arches upward, but I keep my mouth locked tight against her.
She screams and writhes, her thighs tightening against my ears, holding me tight. I ride her orgasm as if it were a wave, fighting to hold on.
I haven’t put so much as a finger inside her and she cums hard like a tsunami just from me tonguing her clit.
Her wetness soaks my chin, and her hands search for something to hold on to as her orgasm takes complete control of her body.
“Eric!” she screams, my name barely able to escape through the shroud of ecstasy.
There’s a desperation in her voice, as if she’s begging me to stop.
I keep going.
“Please,” she whines, her hands trying to push me away.
I grab her wrists, holding them to her sides as I keep going.
Her body convulses again as she orgasms for the third or fourth time. Or maybe it’s been one ongoing orgasm. I don’t know, but I can’t get enough of it.
