Page 53 of Forbidden

She is in black bikini bottoms, covered in sweat, wearing sleek black headphones. She is also guzzling water and wearing some kind of hot black sports bra. Her eyes pop as she sees me. “Sorry, thought you were reading. Anyway, how are the muscles now?” she asks way to loud.

I shake my head, and she yanks off the headset.

“Sorry, last focus on my body, even if you said I was fine. Anyway, how do I look?”

The vixen spins on her toes, so I can check out her flat stomach and tight rounded butt. “Hey, is it true guys like a tight butt?”

I clear my throat, but my head needs the clearing. Also my imagination.

I am now imagining pushing my crown between her lips. I then yank on her hair. “Sorry what?”

“Is the toning working?”

“Yes,” I say huskily, lost for words.

“Here, feel,” she says grabbing my hand and placing it on her butt.

“Tight enough?”

I try to pull my hand back, but it’s hard. Her butt is like rock, and I squeeze it tight. OMG. Eventually, I yank it back and it is hard like my cock.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I growl.

Storm passes her drink to me, now that mine is bubbling onto the tiles below me. I drink from hers, as I take in her body, and eyes. Storm watches me drink, and I watch her watch me.

The idea of every guy in NYC checking her out, or coming onto her, is making me melt down.

Her small-town charm, and her sweet humble energy seem to make her shine all the brighter. It may also be the fact, that her body, and looks are now next level. She is stunning, and as hot as any model I’ve seen or dated. Only, she does not know it. It’s a good mix. Heck, what am I saying?

She is the perfect mix. The unicorn we’ve all read about.

She is the one!

16

LORENZO

The next week goes smoothly, and I manage to stay out of Storm’s panties. It’s tough, but I somehow do it. At end of the week, and after an exhausting schedule of reading scripts, and pitches, plus working with media banks to provide our favored producers with enough finance to make their projects, I prepare a whiskey.

It’s Friday night, but I still have work to do. My unassuming, roommate works out after coming home. She then does a dive class, studies Italian, and focuses on her pilot pre-flight checklists.

She is about to complete her scuba diving license. And her fencing classes. Her pilot’s license is going well, and she really is a brute for dedication.

I’m about to ask her if we should go celebrate, when she walks in.

“I have a date, how do I look?”

I growl inside, and I want to kill.

She is wearing a hot black catsuit, and a black leather jacket. She also has that scarf around her neck, and it is tied to the side.

She looks like some voguish catwalk model. It is hell to look at her. It is also heaven.

If she’s not careful, she will get screwed over by some bad boy or some dickhead, who is screwing his way through fifteen women a month.

Like the old me.