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I’ve seen him looking at me, too. We have a kind of love/hate relationship going on. He sees me, and I see him, but neither of us will admit to it.
Not that I’ve actually met the guy. I’ve seen him coming and going in a limousine. He’s seen me getting in and out of Ubers.
That’s about the extent of it.
That and the couple times I’ve seen him walking around his place with no shirt on.
The man has abs—rippling, sculpted abs. And that’s all I’m checking on tonight, to see if he’s home and if he happens to be getting out of the shower or home from a workout.
Before you judge me, let’s just remember that this is New York City. People live on top of each other here, and it’s virtually impossible to look out my window or to be on my little balcony without seeing a straight shot into his apartment.
It’s unavoidable.
He’s unavoidable.
He penetrates my thoughts, and I don’t even know the guy.
Fuck, I’m getting myself into something deep. I can feel it, and once I’m in, I know it’ll be hard to get out.
I look through my blinds and sip my wine, but he’s not there.
Damn.
It’s better this way, I guess. I need to not have my desire fueled by this neighborly obsession.
I take my drink to the tub where I draw out a long and relaxing bath for a day well done.
That’s the thing about living at The Bradford…there’s never a dull moment.
Two
Paul
Her legs are spread wide for me. She’s always so eager to have me take her across my desk.
My secretary, Lydia, is begging for it, and that’s all the motivation I need to drive it home.
I pump into her roughly and grip her hips between my strong hands, trying to keep her in place and from ruining all the paperwork on my desk.
“Yes, Paul, oh fuck, yes.”
Yeah, I know, baby. You want it…bad.
She came on board to my firm a couple months ago, and we’ve made this a little nightly ritual. It took less than a week of her working for me to have her on her knees in my office, begging to suck my cock.
Who am I to say no? Paul Armstrong does not say no to a beautiful woman so easily.
I am, by definition, a player, but Lydia doesn’t know that about me. She might’ve surmised it given the fact that I’ve never once invited her to my place or seen her outside of the office. But I’m not about to ruin the fluid sexual relationship we have going.
That’s all it is—sex. That’s all it ever is.
I’m fairly new to the city, came in from London a couple months ago. I live in a nice little place—okay, a nice big place while I look around town for the perfect penthouse.
I grab a handful of her beautiful tits and then I thrust into her harder than ever.
My twelve-inch cock goes in deep, and she cries out my name again. I cup a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her gasps for me.
“Paul, fuck, I’m coming so hard.”
