We’re the mirror that society holds up to itself, reflecting the emotions of the world back at it with a lens flare and a crescendo-ing soundtrack. So when the babe at the Bradford watches me come, I recognize the look on her face.
Fear.
I restrain my cock with the fly of my jeans, slip on some shoes, and grab my keys. I already know her apartment number. I’ve counted the floors up and the windows over.
Now, it’s just a matter of getting there in time.
But when I come to her door and knock, she doesn’t fucking answer.
Shit.
This is on me—I shouldn’t have pushed her. What we had was fucking special, alright? And now I know for a fact that I’ve gone and fucking blown it.
Literally.
But then, I hear a tiny, sexy gasp and the jingle of keys falling to the floor.
“Felix Fitzgerald.”
The most perfect set of lips I’ve ever seen mouths my name from behind me as I turn to greet her with a smile.
“Always good to meet a fan,” I say, smooth as can fucking be.
Then I do the only thing that seems right in the moment.
I unzip my fly and unleash the fucking beast.
“No,” she gasps when she sees my cock. Her pretty little hand presses against her left breast, just over her heart, and her mouth falls open in a blowjob-ready little O.
“Yes,” I tell her. Perfect fucking reaction. “Now, are you gonna get on your knees and suck it already, or am I gonna have to make you?”
It takes an entire second. The longest second that’s ever existed in the history of time.
First, my heart sinks. A flash of hesitation crosses her eyes.
She’s going to say no.
Then, my heart rises like the sun over the New York skyline.
And my cock gets even fucking harder.
She launches herself at me, and my cock is down her tight, hot throat before she can even get out that single, perfect fucking word.
Yes.
I toss my head back, letting my shoulders rest against her door.
This. This is what I’ve fucking wanted. This is what I’ve been posing in front of my window with a stiffy and a disregard for pants all this time for.
It wasn’t the thrill of being seen, as it turns out. It wasn’t even the joy of brainwashing her pretty little head with my perfect fucking cock. It was knowing that someday, her mouth would me mine.
Her mouth…and more.
She sucks me off like she was born for it. Maybe she fucking was. I don’t know what the babe at the Bradford does when she’s not staring at my cock, but I know damn well what her mouth was made for.
Pleasure. Pure and simple.
I’m a handsome man, and she’s a fine-ass woman.