Page 9

Chapter 9

Anders

I exit the lift in an aroused haze. I no longer know what’s left and right or up and down. Jahmar has somehow turned off every rational part of my brain except for the hypothalamus. That special part of the brain that controls sleep and arousal—and right now, arousal is at the forefront. I vibrate with desire, and my cock feels hard enough to tear a hole in my trousers.

‘The show starts at midnight.’

Jahmar knows what a sick, twisted pervert I am. Yet, he encourages it and feeds the perverted beast inside me that’s eager to claw its way out.

His perky attitude always made me feel like we were polar opposites, but maybe he’s as tainted as I am. There are secrets hidden behind that dangerous smile, and I see the mask slipping each day. If I surrender to him, will he lay all his secrets bare, too? I’m not sure how much longer I can take this push and pull. Every part of my body wants to succumb to him.

That heated moment in the swimming pool when our cocks glided against one another and my teeth sank into his shoulders was pure bliss, but I freaked when he mentioned stalking. What would’ve happened if I’d stayed? Would we have grinded against each other in the water until we climaxed? The thought sends a shiver down my spine. Next time, I won’t stop. I’ll take what I want because what I want is Jahmar .

I walk around the reception desk and find Femi chatting with a tenant.

“I’ve tried everything, drain cleaner and a plunger, but it won’t unblock. My bathroom looks like a bloody swamp,” a tenant named Sanita complains.

It’s not the first time this has happened. Usually, it’s an accumulation of her thick black hair in the shower drain. God forbid she puts her hand down there to remove it herself; that’s beneath her. You can’t be caught dead fishing out sodden clumps of hair from a drain when you’re a local MP.

“Ah, jus di man mi did a look fah,” Femi says with a conspiratorial smirk.

She scans me up and down, eyebrows drawing together. “Wa’ mek yuh wet?”

I run a hand through my damp fringe, floundering for an excuse. “I erm, I splashed my face. It’s hot.”

“Mhm,” Femi says before kissing her teeth.

She most definitely thinks I took a little evening swim. She isn’t half wrong. Femi scrutinises my clothes. Busted.

“Sanita, let me come help you with that drain,” I rush out before Femi can start asking more questions.

“Oh, that would be marvellous,” Sanita replies in the queen’s English. She’s originally from Beeston, fuck knows where that accent came from. She probably spent her teens watching BBC News and perfecting it, Tory cunt.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and make a beeline for the lift. I love Femi to pieces, but I’d rather her not know my business, especially when it involves dry-humping tenants in the pool.

After violating my hand, fishing out lumps of Sanita’s hair from the drain, and taking a break, it’s a few minutes to midnight.

I lied to Femi and told her I had a bad stomach and needed to take a dump. She grimaced at me and then went back to sweeping the floor. That should buy me some time.

I unfasten the trousers Jahmar lent me, slam the toilet seat down, and sit, spreading my legs slightly. My cock already strains against the soft material. Dipping my hand inside, I pull my cock up so it’s resting against my stomach; it bobs in anticipation.

This is fucked, but there’s not a chance in hell I can stop myself from logging onto the feed to see the show Jahmar wants to put on for me. He wants me to watch. He gets off on it, so who am I to deny him that privilege?

I log on at midnight. Jahmar’s nowhere to be found. His bed is empty apart from that purple fucking dildo and a bottle of lube that’s placed in the middle of the bed like a fucking beacon.

Several minutes pass, and he’s still not there. Was he fucking with me?

Trepidation creeps in. A painful knot forms in my stomach, and my skin feels tight. As the minutes pass, fury simmering in my blood. He’s fucking taunting me, making a fool out of me like he always does. I was stupid to think anything good could come from this; it’s all a game to him.

I clasp my phone in one shaky hand and use the other to do up my trousers. My face feels hot, and I have no doubt I’m bright red. I’m that pissed off.

One more minute, and if he doesn’t show, I’m done. I feel like I’ve been edged to the point of fucking combustion.

Mere seconds before I log off, he appears and looks up at the camera with a smug smirk on his face. Bastard, keeping me waiting.

Jahmar crawls onto the bed, leans his head and shoulders down and points his arse up in the air wearing nothing but that silly little jockstrap.

So much for my fury, I plonk my arse back on the toilet seat and rapidly remove my dick with a trembling hand. Every cell in my body feels like a live wire with how turned on I am.

I want to be mad at him for keeping me waiting, but it’s fucking impossible when he casually slides two fingers into his arse like it’s nothing. The glistening wetness around his hole makes me think he was probably prepping himself before coming on camera. I slowly start tugging at my aching cock, wanting to be lost in pleasure with him.

Seconds later, he’s adding a third finger and pumping in and out of himself with abandon. The way his shoulders suddenly curl and his body vibrates makes me think he’s pegging his prostate just right. Jahmar turns his head to the side and his lips part. I can only imagine the unholy moans falling from his lips. Fuck, what I’d do to hear them. I want to pull those sounds from him myself.

He removes his fingers and pants, squeezing the duvet between his fists. Fuck, was he close to coming and had to stop? Jahmar flips over and looks up at the camera, grinning and completely dishevelled.

I’m leaking like crazy now, so I roll my palm around the tip of my cock and glide it back down, smearing pre-cum along my length, providing an effortless glide.

Jahmar climbs off the bed with the dildo in hand and slams it against the mirrored wardrobe door just below waist height.

Oh, fuck.

He smacks the purple dildo, and his shoulders shake as if he’s laughing at the way it wobbles. He looks up at me with a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye. All the tension and anger I felt for him earlier disintegrates. He behaves like a fucking child at times, but there’s a lightness to him that softens the darkness inside of me. Even if I find him infuriating, he somehow manages to drag smiles out of me. My cheeks lift of their own accord as he continues to whack the dildo.

What the fuck has my life come to? I’m sitting on the bog at work wanking off to a tenant while he childishly flip-flops a massive purple dildo as I watch.

Jahmar’s knees bend as he leans against the wardrobe door, clutching his stomach. My hand stills on my cock, and I allow myself to laugh with him. This is bloody ridiculous.

Eventually, he pulls himself together and starts to stroke his length. I guess the time for laughter is over. His eyes take on a serious glaze, and he turns his back to the wardrobe and spreads his arse cheeks before backing up and slowly impaling himself on the toy. Jahmar throws his head back in pleasure as it stretches him open.

Holy fuck. Nothing has ever looked so erotic. The angle is perfect. He keeps his cheeks spread and doesn’t fully go back onto the dildo, so I can see his hole stretch around it in the reflection of the mirror. The view from the front is equally as enchanting. His solid cock bounces and leaks as he slams back, fucking himself. It doesn’t take long until he’s a quivering mess, barely able to hold himself up on weak legs as he seeks release. His mouth keeps opening wide, no doubt making sounds that would drive me wild. I want to hear those sounds. No, I need to swallow those sounds. They belong to me.

Jahmar

I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off; I almost came from my fingers alone earlier. It’s barely been fifteen minutes, and I promised Anders a show and one minute was spent laughing. I’m crazed as I fuck myself against the mirror. I can only imagine how fucking hot it must look from this angle, the reflection of my arse spread and impaled on my favourite toy.

God, I hope he’s touching himself. I hope this is the filthiest show he’s ever seen. I want tonight to be seared into his memory, so whenever plays with himself, he digs into his psyche for this very moment. I want to consume him like a brain-eating disease.

Spreading my cheeks impossibly wide, I pick up the pace, closing my eyes and getting lost in the sensation of the dildo catching my prostate. I’m dangerously close to coming, but something’s missing. Anders is missing.

My front door unlocking sends a rush of panic through me, and my frantic hip movements come to a standstill. My heart fights against my ribcage as I pull myself off the toy. This would be a really fucking terrible time to face intruders.

When Anders reaches my bedroom doorway, and our eyes lock, a rush of air leaves me.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” he demands, chest heaving like he just ran up ten flights of stairs.

I swallow the lump in my dry throat and slide back onto the dildo, releasing a satisfying groan as I’m filled once again.

“Fuuuck,” Anders drawls, almost too quietly for me to hear. He releases himself from the confines of his trousers and strokes up and down his flushed shaft. Wow, it’s a pretty cock; my mouth salivates at the thought of wrapping my lips around it. It’s average-sized with a significant curve that goes up. I can only imagine how fucking amazing that would feel dragging against my sweet spot.

Keeping my eyes glued to his, I rock my hips back and forth, gaining speed and letting my orgasm build once more.

“Please,” I whimper. I’m not exactly sure what I’m begging for, but I need him closer; need to feel some part of him on me before I erupt.

He barrels towards me, slapping my hands away from my arse and replacing them with his own. Stretching me so wide it’s almost painful. His fingertips tickle my rim where the dildo tugs in and out of my hole. Anders peeks over my shoulder so he can watch it slide in and out of me where he has me spread open.

I grip his hip, digging my fingers into the soft flesh as he rocks me back and forth on the fake cock. Uninhibited moans fall from my lips. I reach between us, tugging the jockstrap under my balls, exposing myself. I thrust against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum along the front of the shirt I lent him.

I turn my face, desperate to catch his gaze, but his eyes are glued to the mirror and my arse like he’s entranced.

“Do you have any fucking idea how hot this looks?” he murmurs against my shoulder before nipping me.

I frantically nod, unable to form words anymore, just pathetic whines and whimpers.

Anders releases the painful grip on my arse cheeks, and his hands frame my face. His eyes are wide and feral. I’ve never seen this look on him before. I’m usually the one calling the shots, but right now, he has me eating out the palm of his hand.

“You’re going to fucking destroy me, aren’t you?” he states; it’s not really a question.

“Hopefully.” I smirk.

Anders slams his lips against mine, swallowing my pants. Without hesitation, he pushes past the crease of my lips and tangles his tongue around mine in a filthy, wet kiss. He kisses me hard enough to make my neck tip back, and I know I’ll need to come up for air soon.

My orgasm builds in the pit of my stomach as I continue to drive onto the dildo and fuck his mouth with my tongue. My cock is pressed tightly against his stomach. The delicious friction pushes me closer to release. Like he senses my impending orgasm. Anders pulls away and slams to his knees, making me gasp. God, he’s perfect.

Looking up at me with those baby blues, he yanks at his own cock, throbbing between his legs.

“Come for me, Jay,” he pants, then opens his mouth wide, sticks out his tongue and closes his eyes, waiting for my load.

Two tugs of my dick and ribbons of cum shoot out of my cock and land on his tongue, lips and cheeks. He looks like a mess, covered in cum, but he’s my mess.

He opens his eyes, licking and swallowing the cum dangling from his upper lip. Between his legs, cum oozes from his own cock, forming a puddle on the floor. He shudders and squeezes one more spurt of cum before sinking back on his haunches.

Closing his eyes, he rests his head against my thigh, forcing me back onto the dildo. I bite my lip to hold back my groan. I’m painfully sensitive, but I refuse to move just yet. Honestly, my arse clenched around the toy is the only thing currently keeping me upright. Otherwise, I’d collapse in a lump into Anders’ arms, and I’m not quite sure we’re at the snuggling stage yet.

I release the grip on my cock and let my hands run through his hair. Anders releases a soft and satisfied hum against my thigh and unconsciously smiles. He’s stunning, dimple popping, smeared in my cum. How is he even real?

We stay like this for several minutes. It’s scarily intimate. I’m floating, high off him and his tantalising touch. For once, my mind is silent. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to enjoy intimacy and sex again, but he’s somehow made it possible. My heart swells at the thought of exploring this more, having him in every way possible. I’m greedy like that.

Anders slowly lifts his head off my thigh and looks up at me with a mixture of confusion and regret; I can’t quite be sure. The tender moment is fading as he comes back to his senses. Refusing to let him freak out, I pull off the dildo and drag him up. Cupping his cheeks, I lightly kiss his puffy lips, tasting my own release. I genuinely smile at him—not the false smile I plaster on every day, my real smile.

Anders’ shoulders unclench, and his watery eyes sparkle. His cheek twitches before breaking out into the sweetest smile. I can’t resist leaning forward and gently kissing that adorable fucking dimple. He releases a breath and then nuzzles my neck. We hold each other for a while before he pulls back with a fake scowl.

“This doesn’t mean we’re friends. I still don’t trust you,” he mumbles like a moody teenager.

“Good, you shouldn’t trust me.”

He pulls back further, making my chest tighten with panic. No, this can’t be it. I need a few more minutes of sweet Anders. I keep a firm grip on the sides of his face, but he struggles against my hold.

“What the hell does that mean?” His eyebrows draw together, and any trace of the smile he had is long gone, and a flicker of fear flashes behind his eyes.

I attempt some honesty because what else do I have to lose? He’s clearly suspicious of me if he’s set up a hidden camera.

“We all have secrets, Anders. I’m not sure you could handle mine, though.”

He huffs, pushing my hands from his face. I let him go.

“Don’t tell me what you think I can or can’t handle. And stop being so fucking cryptic. If you want this fucked up thing between us to continue, you’ll stop playing games and tell me who you are and what you’re up to.”

“You know who I am—Jahmar Walker, doctor and resident of Emeralds luxury apartment complex.”

“No,” he snaps. “You’re hiding something. You just said you had secrets. Until I know who I’m dealing with, consider us done.”

Bloody hell, always with the drama and threats. This is getting old; I know he’ll be back.

Anders drags up his trousers, huffing and puffing as he rights his clothes and wipes cum from his face. I hope he doesn’t wash them before giving them back.

“You really want to know who I am?”

“That’s what I said,” he bites through clenched teeth.

“Fine, but be warned, you’ll probably regret it,” I challenge, giving him a final out.

“Try me. I set up a hidden camera in your apartment. I doubt anything you do could shock me. I think it’s pretty clear I have a questionable moral compass.”

I laugh. “We’ll see, little lion. Same time tomorrow. Log onto your little camera feed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Anders scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he mumbles before storming out of my apartment for the second time this evening.

He’s really going to regret this.