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Shit.
We freeze as a guy steps out of his apartment. He’s on his phone, minding his own business until he sets eyes on us. Oh fuck, the embarrassment. That’s one of Josh’s neighbours, and this is his first impression of me…
I expect him to start in shock at the two of us practically rutting against Josh’s apartment door, but he doesn’t even slow down.
“Hey,” Josh says to him, with a tip of his head.
“Hey,” he says back, walking on by, clearly not keen on striking up conversation.
I wait until he’s in the elevator until I groan.
“Shit,” I say. “Whoops for that one. Sorry.”
Josh smirks and raises his eyebrows.
“Sorry for what? Getting it on in the corridor? I wouldn’t worry about that. Christopher is well aware of the rumours. Everyone around here is.”
“Rumours about what you do for a living?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a bit of a name around here, me and Tiff. I give my hellos to the residents I cross paths with, and they all give me their overzealous grins back, or bury their heads like him, pretending they don’t know I’m a male slut for a living. Tiff gets more backchat and whispers than I do, but the whole place knows about us. They know what we do. She got drunk with a girl from apartment three one night, years ago, and it spread like wildfire. The girl’s long gone, but the rumours aren’t. It’s such common knowledge by now that the estate agents should mention it in the contracts when they sell these crazy priced apartments.” He grins. “So, congratulations. You’ll now be associated with the hardcore hookers. Apologies for that.”
“You’ll be a cool duo to be associated with.”
“You say that now, but you might not be so sure when you start getting the backchat and the late-night date offers. A tenner on offer at three in the morning when someone can’t be bothered with a handjob.”
“They can piss off with a tenner,” I laugh. “Anyone in this block can afford at least twenty.”
“You certainly won’t be short of offers. You’ll be on Belgravia’s most wanted list in no time, like Tiff is. There are at least four men in this apartment block alone who want to take her on a date. One of them wants her so bad he’s practically a stalker from three floors down.”
He picks up his keys and my flowers from the floor and hands them over to me, then opens the door without a pause this time around. Suddenly being here doesn’t seem quite so intimidating. I don’t feel quite so fake. Not such an imposter after all.
I gasp as the apartment lights come on, because it’s not like I expected in the slightest. I dunno, but with a block like this, I just assumed Josh would have gone for minimalism. Modern and bare and chic, like something from an ultimate decor magazine. But this is nothing like that. It’s still modern and upper class, with its floor to ceiling windows, but it’s so much more of a home than that.
He has a white leather suite in the living room area, scattered with purple cushions. Some brocade, contrasted with some that look like modern art rejects. One that’s fluffy, one satin. One with a big pair of red lips in the kissing position. The huge rug is a thick plush purple mixed with flashes of neon green, and he has a massive TV. But there is so much more in here than that. Big bookshelves rammed full. Shelves of trinkets right the way along one wall, with everything from a huge amethyst geode to a collection of ceramic sugar skulls. He has an antique looking globe by his sofa, and a load of plants by the windows. There are huge canvases around the place – some in graffiti style, but some with waves and marbling all over them, pouring art, I think it’s called. And gym stuff. Lots of gym stuff, all in the one corner. Weights, and a pull up bar, and a bench. A yoga mat laid out next to a treadmill, and a collection of other bits and pieces around them. Some more plants. Some more skulls. And more books, all stacked up on a side table.
I’m still scouting the place as he steps up behind me, and I’m sparking with need from the very moment he sets his hands on my waist and brushes his lips across my shoulder.
The scent, the sight, the electricity of his touch… it’s a concoction worthy of a love potion. I just hope it’s not toxic. I pray to God, it’s not toxic.
My mouth is right on his as he spins me towards him. He kisses me deep before he pushes me backwards, and I land on his sofa. I’m already arching myself against the cushions when he joins me, ready and inviting. It may be gone two in the morning, but sleep is the very last thing on my mind as he drops to the floor between my legs, his stare devilish as he looks up at me.
Devilish and so hot I can hardly breathe.
He takes my knees and spreads them wide, and I pull my dress up to give him full access to the sopping lace of my panties.
He kisses my thigh, high on the inside, lingering so his tongue piercing tickles. Then he does the same to the other. I’m so needy that I could grab his head and beg for it, but the vibe coming off him is too powerful. The dynamic here is clear. His hands are so firm as he holds my legs in position, so confident.
“I wasn’t lying earlier. I don’t play easy. I play hardcore for a reason.”
“That’s what I want.” I pull my dress down. No bra. My tits show proud and free, nipples hard and horny for him. “I wasn’t lying, either. I’m a dirty bitch and I want to be a hardcorer. Give me all you’ve got.”
“Oh, Ella,” he says, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then you’d better teach me a lesson, hadn’t you?”
He climbs up, and I gasp at the very sight of him getting closer. I moan as he teases my nipple, adoring the glint of his tongue piercing as he licks me. It feels so fucking good as he sucks me in that I have to take his hair in my hands, urging him on. I need more. I need his teeth. I need him to test me. I need to show him what a dirty little bitch I can be for a beautiful hardcorer like him.
I’m already heady over his tongue piercing, let alone the others waiting down below. The way the metal ball so expertly teases my nipple drives me wild, and I try not to think of all the times he’s done this before. All the practice he’s had to make him such an expert.
