Billionaire Beast

Not that Wrigley minds or even notices. The fact that I’m hard is more than enough for her.

We’re back on the roof, but the people across the street are all tired of the show.

I know how they feel.

I’m lying on the ledge with one foot on each side of it, and Wrigley’s got her back to me. Once I got over the initial fear, this really doesn’t feel like anything exciting or even new.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, slamming her core onto me again and again, “fuck me hard!”

I’m wondering if I were reading a book right now, would she even notice?

It doesn’t really matter, I guess. Things could be worse.

Though I’m not sure how.

I lift my hips as she comes down, burying myself deeper inside, and I may as well be somewhere else entirely. There’s no passion, no thrill.

To stay interested, I fantasize about rolling a little to one side, and wonder if I’d still be inside her when we hit the pavement.

I close my eyes and start to pretend that she’s Leila, but immediately stop. I’m not going to cheapen Leila like that.

Come to think of it, it’s kind of a bad sign that I’m not so concerned about cheapening Wrigley like that.

“Are you about there?” I ask, trying to put enough enthusiasm into my voice to not pull her out of her moment.

She stops riding me, though I’m still inside her.

She moves one leg over the side of the building so now only gravity is holding her in place. Yeah, I’m inside of her, too, but I seriously doubt that would be enough to stop her from going over the edge.

Wrigley lifts her other leg over my body so she’s facing me now, straddling me, and she leans forward, kissing my lips as she says, “I think I want a relationship with you, too, Dane.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“I said I want to be in a relationship with you, too, Dane. You were right. There’s more between us than just sex.”

I don’t say anything for a minute. I don’t move, and hardly breathe. This is about the last thing I was expecting from tonight.

“What do you think?” she asks, grinding herself onto me to emphasize the question.

I look at her. She’s already looking at me.

Her eyes are pale blue. They’re not the darker blue of Leila’s, but they’re not without their warmth.

She kisses me and I just stay there, hands hanging down.

I look over the edge of the building and I look back at Wrigley.

And I decide to jump.

“I’d love that,” I tell her. “Let’s do it.”

She lets out a glee-filled squee and puts her hands on my cheeks as she kisses me vehemently.

“I’ve never wanted to be with just one man before,” she tells me.

She throws her head back and to the side, letting her hair fall over her left shoulder.

“I don’t see any stars,” I tell her.