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21
He owned a loft on East River, somewhere near Vernon Boulevard, right at the edge of Astoria. It was an open space, just one big room, huge actually, split by furniture. I walked around inspecting things while Hugo was in the door frame, waiting to see what I did. Some would say he was nervous, but I knew better. This was the Albanian Monster; he had enough money to buy himself a mansion, but he wouldn’t fit in it. On the other hand, this place was Hugo.
His bed was at the far end of the entrance; it was wide with a metallic frame and white cotton sheets. He only had two nightstands and a lamp in his ‘bedroom’ area, unlike me. My bedroom was full of comfy arm chairs and decorative pillows. On the same wall with his bed, there were two doors, one leading to a walk-in closet and one to the bathroom. One of the corners of the room was the kitchen, and it was hidden by sliding barn doors. In the middle of the room, there was a black leather couch with two matching chairs and a coffee table in the middle. The TV was bolted to the wall, and he also had a desk scattered with papers. All his furniture was massive wood, Florentine style, in contrast with the room itself.
Somehow, in all the chaos, the place made sense, with two tall pillars supporting the ceiling and one wall made entirely out of glass, but not like those floor-to-ceiling windows you’d find in a penthouse. The wall had a metallic grid that served as a frame for many windows that were letting a lot of natural light break through the shadow of the room.
I heard the sound of Hugo’s keys hitting the table behind me, but I didn’t turn. Instead, I went close to the window and stood there with my arms folded, looking outside. A lonely jogger was running on the sidewalk with a Walkman hanging from his waste. Apart from him, the riverfront was lonely, bordered by brewers, some functioning, some abandoned, some controlled by the mafia. Those buildings were reminiscent of the industrial New York that created my family and its power.
Hugo came to stand behind me, and for a couple of minutes, we watched in silence while some cars were passing over Queensboro bridge.
“You have a nice view here,” I said, nodding to the city lights that were reflecting in the water.
“It’s alright.”
“This place fits you so well. The sharp edges, the stainless steel; that’s part of you, and I love the way you furnished it.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a mess.”
“It is, but I love it. The massive rosewood desk, the packed bookshelves; you even have a record player. It’s the two sides of you, all in one place. The Albanian Monster and the man that was raised in a house where my grandma played Pavarotti all day long.”
“I’m glad you like it, Cat.” He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, cracking it open. “Can I get you anything? Keep in mind, I’m out of Limoncello.”
I laughed at him and started taking down my clothes until I was in the middle of his house, completely naked, licking my lips and waiting for him to notice. When Hugo turned, the beer almost slipped through his fingers.
“How about you fuck me instead?”
“Stop playing with fire, Catherinelle.”
“Fine,” I shrugged and started moving towards one of the pillars, gluing my back to it. “If you don’t want to take care of me, I will take care of myself.”
I opened my legs wider and raised one arm above my head to clutch the pillar. My back arched, and I let my other hand slide down the curves of my body and reach my helplessly wet pussy. My lips were swollen, and I felt a painful need inside of me. Hugo’s eyes were plastered to the place where my fingers were exploring my flesh.
“Ah, this is good,” I moaned and closed my eyes while exploring my body further. I was so turned on and ready for him, my hand slipped over my clit with no problem, and I circled my entrance, taunting my senses. It was good, but he could make it so much better.
He cracked, and I heard his belt buckle belt being undone. I couldn’t help but smile. I was about to ride my Monster’s dick for the first time in days. When I opened my eyes, he was caging me to his body.
“Put one leg around my hips.” His voice was guttural and low, more like a dangerous warning than a suggestion. When I did as he told me, I felt his member hanging heavy between his legs, ready to take over me. “I thought you wanted sweet love making, Cat, hours of foreplay and rolling in the sheets. Doesn’t every girl want that from her boyfriend?”
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. Boyfriend – even hearing it from him it sounded ridiculous. No one should dare call this mountain of a man, this god walking among humans, a boyfriend.
“You are not my boyfriend, Hugo.”
“No?”
“No.” I kissed him slowly, sucking in his taste. “You’re my man. I don’t want sweet and slow. I want you to fuck me to the point where I can’t walk. Hurt me if you must, but give me what I need.”
“Fuck!”
With one arm, he hooked my leg and picked me up off the ground. His free hand entwined with mine above my head, and without any delay, he slipped his cock inside of me.
“Yes, baby,” I whispered in his ear and bit his shoulder.
A sense of completeness washed over me while he pushed inside me, and the silver balls dragged inside my body, exciting every single nerve. My knees started shaking immediately, like he had found a switch for my pleasure and turned it on.
“Catherinelle, I’m gonna need you to hold onto me.”
I clutched his shoulder and prepared myself for the storm that was ready to descend upon us. Hugo started moving, burying himself up to the balls and hitting the perfect spot every time. I looked up at him to see the change happening – he was an animal; the Monster was unleashed and ready to take its victim.
