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Fifteen minutes after leaving Mickey the Fixer, I returned to the sixth floor, a transformed woman.
My heart pounded out a thumping beat, both from the rush to get ready and the anticipation of seeing the sexy plumber behind door thirty-one.
I was excited. Horny and excited.
For the first time since I’d started this crazy double-identity ruse in January, I had very little apprehension.
I wanted the hot-blooded man behind this door.
I strode into the bathroom at the perfect moment to witness Mickey bending over to rummage through his toolbox on the floor near the vanity. It took all my restraint not to reach out and dig my fingers into his round butt cheeks. He’d removed his shirt, and the fine mist had his skin slicked wet and glistening in the bright bathroom lights.
Mickey the Fixer was model gorgeous.
The tingling purring through my insides confirmed I was so ready to get my rocks off. I stripped out of my trench coat and tossed it aside. Then, gripping the doorframe with my right hand, I cleared my throat.
“I hear you need help,” I said with the bravado of a woman in control.
When he turned to me with his chest muscles and shoulders gleaming wet, I was suddenly teleported to a racy men’s calendar shoot, and I had a front-row seat.
My heart hit marathon mode as I gave him a saucy wink.
Mickey’s eyes bulged, and he did that sexy thing with his hand through his wet hair. “What’ve we got here?” He put his hands on his hips, and his eyes twinkled.
I really was on a calendar shoot, and it was bloody magnificent.
“I heard there was a hot guy up here getting all wet.” I put my fingertip in my mouth, acting coy.
He wriggled his eyebrows. “You heard right.”
The mist in the air failed to cool the inferno coursing through my blood. The sexual tension between us was a living, breathing thing, ensuring my body furnace maintained its intensity.
“But before you get too excited, Mr. Toolman, you need to know we’re not having sex.” I needed him to know I was in control; I’d be the one to decide whether or not this romp culminated in full-blown sex. Being in charge was the key. All good so far.
Mickey tilted his head at me. “Righty-ho then . . .” His tone indicated he knew I had more to say.
Despite my announcement, I was more than ready to break my one golden rule. From what I’d seen so far, I’d definitely found the perfect guy to lose my casual-sex virginity to. He ticked all the right boxes.
I’m going to have sex with a stranger for the first time. Fuck yeah!
My insides clenched with excitement. “Don’t worry; we’ll both be satisfied by the end. If you’re interested.”
His cock bulged in his shorts. “Let’s say I’m interested.”
“I know you’re interested.” My heart beat out a crazy rhythm as I lowered my eyes to his groin. Mickey the Fixer had a massive bulge, and I was keen to see what he was hiding.
I peeled my red Saint Laurent stilettos off and placed them aside. There was no sense ruining $400 shoes in the moisture. “All you need to do is watch. Do you think you could do that?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip.
“What you want me to watch.” His voice had become deeper in the space of a minute.
“You’ll see.” I tiptoed through the damp floor, pushed my bottom up onto the vanity basin, and propped one stockinged foot on the bath to steady myself.
His eyes burned into me. My breathing grew deeper as I guided my hand up my dress and rubbed my fingers over my knickers. Mickey licked his lips, and his glistening chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing. With my heart thumping to an excited beat, I massaged my clit, using the lacy fabric for extra stimulation. I didn’t need much. I was already horny and wet.
A lick of arousal flitted inside me. With my other hand, I pulled my panties aside and shoved my finger into my throbbing pussy. My insides were raging like a caged animal, clawing for release.
