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I straightened my back, renewed with purpose. I’d have to be careful. There were a lot of skeletons in my closet, and not all of them I wanted to reveal to the new men in my life. I’d have to tread lightly when determining what to reveal and what to keep shrouded in secrecy.
I moved back into the bedroom to check the time on my phone. My lock screen read one p.m., but what caught my attention was the notification that Kenji had sent me a final message with what looked like an attachment.
Holy shit. That’s a dick.
I slammed down on the volume buttons as Kenji’s moan came through the speaker. He was spread out on his bed, bathed in red light. His hand was wrapped around his cock, twisting up and down. The sight had me squirming where I sat at the edge of my bed. Blood rushed in my ears, my nipples pebbling when my name fell from his lips. Lust pooled between my legs as he stroked his hard length.
His eyes were hooded when he looked into the camera. “Scar, here’s a gift for you. Material for you when you use your fingers to fuck that leaking cunt of yours.”
Each gasp and moan from his lips ratcheted my desire higher and higher. I hadn’t moved since pressing play, too entranced by the way he fucked his hand while saying filthy things for me. I craved to replace his hand with my own.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My hand trailed down my body, swiping through my arousal before pushing inside. My moan synced with one of Kenji’s, giving the illusion that we were actively fucking. I circled my wet fingers against my clit, knowing I’d be able to make myself come faster that way. My fucked-up goal was to come with video Kenji.
“Fuck, Scar. I want to fill you up and watch my cum leak out before shoving it back in.”
My jaw dropped at the confession. My brain painted the image of Kenji’s fingers shoving his hot release back into my well-fucked pussy, and that was all it took to take me over.
But if I thought that part of the video was the pièce de résistance, it didn’t hold a candle to the full body aftershock I got when I watched him drag his cum-coated finger up to his mouth and lick it off.
“Fuck,” I moaned out as the video cut out.
Silence mixed with my labored breathing. My body was flushed with post-orgasm bliss. That was so much better than a dick pic. Men should only send vocal jerkoff videos like that. Indecision racked my brain. What the hell did you say back to that?
Thanks for the masturbation material. Your dick looked great.
I chuckled, because that was exactly the thing to say back to Kenji. I shot off the text before making my way into the main part of the apartment. It didn’t seem like anyone was around, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I padded across the space in nothing but an oversized silk button-up. A rumble from my stomach echoed through the quiet apartment. Disappointment settled in my gut because I didn’t fucking know how to cook. The idea of delivery flitted through my mind for a second, but it would be a bitch to get it up to the penthouse.
“Fuck me in the ass,” I claimed as I yanked the fridge door open, knowing there wouldn’t be anything I could just pop into the microwave.
“Is that really where you want to start?”
A startled yelp slipped past my lips, and I chucked the closest object at the deep voice. It just so happened that the object was pinot grigio. The Russian giant didn’t flinch as he caught the wine bottle against his chiseled chest with a single hand. Damn, he could probably throw me around with ease. Suddenly my mouth was as dry as a fucking desert.
Who was still shirtless in the middle of the afternoon?
“You aren’t wearing any pants. Arguably, that’s worse than no shirt,” he said, amusement in his tone.
It took my lust-filled brain a second to figure out that I’d said my quiet thoughts out loud. My cheeks flushed as he stepped into my space, gently pushing me away from the fridge.
“Hungry, little one?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before gathering an armful of ingredients—his skin pulling taut over his muscled back. Tattoos rippled with each move he made in a mesmerizing dance. What did they look like when he fucked?
I shook my head, trying to clear the lust that was still present from Kenji’s video earlier.
“Kenji and Caleb have already left the apartment, so you’re stuck with me this afternoon. Least I can do is feed you,” Niko said.
The smile he threw me over his shoulder was breathtaking. It looked so carefree. It was borderline innocent, which was the complete opposite of his body. Covered in tattoos and chiseled muscles—a woman’s wet dream.
“Can I help you?”
I surprised myself with the question because what I wanted to say was, “eat me out?” But something about how excited he was to shove nutrients down my throat and not his cock was strangely endearing. I’d never felt these feelings for my Uber Eats drivers. Maybe the secret was in the man actually turning on a burner.
“Sure. Start by cracking these,” he said, handing me a carton of eggs.
“You got stuck babysitting me while the other two…” I fished for answers while cracking the eggs into a metal bowl. I’d seen enough Food Network to know how to do this part.
He drew out a cutting board and large knife, skillfully starting in on the bell pepper and onions he’d pulled out. He moved with such precision. Clearly the meal he’d made last night wasn’t a fluke situation. Niko really could cook.
“Caleb is out at a business meeting. Some of the people who were at the engagement party have reached out.” He moved to the range, placing a large skillet on the front burner before coating it in olive oil. His eyes moved toward me periodically, checking up on what I was doing. “Money is power, and we have a lot of New York’s elite in our pocket.”