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Thirty minutes later, we arrive at our building. Arthur lives in the penthouse, and I’m in one of the smaller apartments several floors below. It’s convenient, living near my best friend. But it’s also a curse.
As we enter the building, we pass a gaggle of women. Arthur returns to Cyril for a hushed conversation as I stand with the door open, like a gentleman.
Then I see her. Marcy. The only woman in this world who I crave. Her eyes flash bright beneath the streetlight overhead, and her lips purse when she sees me. The rest of the women pass by, leaving me to face her alone.
“I trust you had a lovely evening?”
Marcy faces me. “It was illuminating.”
“What does one do at a bachelorette party?” I muse, my voice swaying from the effects of the gin.
“Drink. Gossip. Play games. Watch men strip and throw money at them.”
“What?” My eyes widen. Surely I misheard her.
“Looks like indulging in half-naked men before you’re married is all the rage in the future.”
“But why?”
“I guess girls just want to have fun.” She brushes past me.
“Marcy...” My voice trails off when she stops and turns.
She props her hand on her hip, and the neon glow of her top catches the streetlight, making her shine.
“What, Rob?” She snaps her gum.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Sleep well.”
With a scoff, she walks away. Arthur helps her into the car along with the other women. Cyril casts a pleading look my way before rounding the car and getting in the driver’s seat.
“You’re having him drive them home?” I ask Arthur when he joins me.
“Of course. I pay him well enough. He’ll be fine.”
I follow Arthur to the elevator and press the button for my floor. He presses his. Silence descends in the car as it rises.
“Thanks for tonight,” Arthur says as the elevator comes to a stop on my floor.
“Of course.” I exit and turn, saluting him. “Go home to your wife.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “With pleasure.”
The doors slide closed.
When I open my apartment, the soft glow of the lamp next to the sofa lights the room. It’s small but tidy. I don’t spend all of my money on a lavish place. I rarely sleep here. It fits my needs.
With a groan, I head for the shower. I let the warm spray soothe me as I lean against the wall. Thoughts of Marcy flood my brain. Why does she plague me? I’d give anything to purge her from my soul, to find someone who actually likes me...wants me.
My cock hardens at the memory of her pink lips and her glow under the streetlight. I take it in my hand and stroke until I’m consumed by nothing but her, by the pleasure lying just out of reach. Panting breaths echo off the tiles. When I come, I imagine her face. Her body. Marcy.
Fuck. I’m a goddamn lost cause.
After drying off and brushing my teeth, I collapse in bed, then stare at the ceiling. I have to work at eight a.m., but sleep eludes me. I’m wrapped up in her. I can’t keep fighting this pull.
But how can I convince someone of something when they’re dead set against it?
I roll to my side, and the sheet slides low on my hips. Shit, how am I hard again?
