Page 108 of The Man Upstairs

“You will.”

I dropped my bag on the floor before I spotted his laptop, sitting proudly at the dining table.

“You did it?” I asked him, looking up with a grin. “Did you really manage it? Did you write me a chapter?”

“It was incredibly easy to write you a chapter, angel.” He kissed my head. “You’ve given me an awful lot of content. I could write a whole series of filthy fantasies with you as the star. I could produce Julian Lockley’s dirty work, volumes one to seven hundred, no problem at all.”

His words made me smile, but I was already deep in the forbidden zone, desperate to read but nervous at the same time. Would it be me he was describing? How would I appear on the pages? How did he see me, when I was like that?

Only one way to find out.

“Can I read it?” I asked, and he gestured over to the dining chair.

“It’s ready and waiting. Sit yourself down. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Actually, I’m crapping myself,” I said. “I can’t believe this is going to be about me.”

He laughed at that, and pulled the chair out for me.

“You’re not the only one crapping yourself. I’m not feeling overly optimistic about my achievements.”

I took my seat, looking back at him as I plonked my butt down.

“How come? Your words are always amazing.”

He bent over to press his mouth to my ear. His breath was a whisper that gave me tingles right the way down to my clit.

“Because no filthy words could ever do you justice, my pure little angel, and this gets graphic. Extremely graphic.” He licked up my cheek, his filthy self coming to the fore, and my clit throbbed so hard I had to clench my thighs.

“Welcome to my imagination, sweetheart,” he said. “I hope you’re ready for it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Julian

My cock was swellingthe moment my angel pushed her glasses up her nose and started reading my words onscreen. My mind had run riot, fingers taking on a life of their own, and there had been nothing I could do to tone it down. The fruits of my efforts were so graphic they were virtually toxic.

I’d forgotten what it felt like to be utterly consumed by creativity, my senses swept up in the tornado of my subconscious as my characters took on their own form. The intensity of the writing experience had increased tenfold from any of my earlier efforts. My muse had possessed my soul. I could never do Rosie’s beauty of character justice, but I’d tried my hardest.

The erotic content in front of her wasn’t the only thing I’d been writing today, but I wasn’t ready to share that. For now, it was all about the perfection of defiling her sweetness on the pages.

I took a seat beside her at the table, focused on her expressions as she read. Her eyes were transfixed by the screen, breaths turning shallow as she scrolled. She was immersed in my words, just as I was immersed in her.

I knew which part she was reading as she stiffened in the chair. Her mouth opened, and she flashed me a glance.

“Too much?” I asked.

“No, just… different.”

It was just the tip of one extremely filthy iceberg. One chapter of many already brewing in my mind.

I’d laid myself absolutely bare for her in this scene, exposing my true, deviant nature. Her acceptance would be nothing short of a stunning miracle. To act out the scene for real would be like heaven on a seedy platter, but I had faith in miracles for once in my life. Rosie’s cheeks were bright pink as she kept on scrolling, but she didn’t pause or hold back. She soaked my words in without hesitation.

I wondered how wet her pussy was for me. The thought of her picturing my fantasies made my dick throb, and I had to bite my tongue to hold back from asking if she wanted to touch herself. I noticed how she began to shift in her seat, squirming. Her legs opened, just a touch, and she rocked a little.Grinding.

“You really want to do this to me?” she asked.

“Yes.”