Five ~ Ian
What am I doing?
I tore off the condom and flushed it then I stormed to the counter, turned on the tap, bent over the shell-shaped sink, and splashed icy cold water on my face. Over and over until my irritation at myself l was washed away with the fine film of sweat I’d worked up in bed. When I straightened, I stared at my reflection, confusion knotting my brows.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked the man in the mirror. He didn’t have a clue. All he knew was that the canned reply he’d been fed had angered and hurt him. Why though? What did I care if someone I’d paid for sex tossed around trashy sound bites instead of earnest responses? What did I expect of Opal? Candor? From a male prostitute? Why would he be honest with me? Some horny goat easily twenty-plus years his senior he didn’t know from fucking Adam. Christ.
“This isn’t a courtship, Ian, its pay for sex. Get over yourself.” Nodding at my own wisdom, I pulled a thick peach towel off a rack, tied it around my waist, and exited the bath, eager to tell Opal that I was sorry for being a jerk. “I know you’re probably thinking I’m a first class asshole, but—”
Opal was kneeling on the bed, sultry red robe dangling off his shoulders, a can of pepper spray trained on my face. His beautiful face was tight with fear. He looked like a fox cornered by the hounds.
“Whoa, there’s no need for that.” I stopped dead and lifted my hands in a peaceful way, showing him my open palms.
“You’re mad at me for some reason. Angry men do violent things. If I scream, security will be in here before you can make a fist.” His small hands shook slightly but stayed tightly wrapped around his trusty pepper spray.
“Yes, okay, you’re right. I did get angry but I’m angry at myself not at you, never at you.”
His eyes narrowed, surprised and confusion jostling for control. “I don’t understand.”
Yes, it was obvious he was lost and rightfully so. “Opal, all I want is for you to be honest with me. My ego is big enough, as Butch or anyone who knows me will attest. It does not need to be pumped full of cheap porn lines. I came here to find…”
Opal sat on the bed, tension radiating from him, waiting for me to finish that line. What exactly had I come here to find? Someone to fuck, yes, obviously, but maybe just someone to talk to once the lust had been slaked. I missed having that in my life. That warm body at your side when you went to bed, lying in the dark, talking about your day, cuddling close at night…
“I came here to find a friend,” I stated.
His shoulders remained tense. “You fuck all your friends?”
“No, but we can have more than sex, right? We can be friends. Friends talk, they enjoy each other’s company, they don’t blow smoke up the other’s ass.”
Finally, the pepper spray lowered a few inches. “So you don’t want to fuck me, you want to sit around talking and telling jokes?”
“No, I…it’s not easy to explain.” I ran a hand over my damp hair. His gaze followed every move I made so I tried to not jerk around. The last thing I wanted for this night was a face full of pepper spray. “Can I sit down on the bed?”
He scooted up by the headboard, tucking his thighs up by his chest, his slim legs bared, and a peek of his lovely soft cock showing. I pulled my gaze from his groin and gently sat down facing him, my hands on my lap.
“Okay, so full disclosure. Butch, my friend and head of my security team, brought me here to celebrate the arrival of my finalized divorce papers on the recommendation of one of my board members.”
Opal tipped his head to the left. “Sorry for your marriage.”
I shrugged. “It is what it is. He has a libido the size of this brothel, but that’s not a story for tonight. I came here because I thought being with a gorgeous young man would be one hell of a way to give my ex the middle finger. And that should have been the case. Just a fast fuck with some nameless gem would have been fine. But as soon as I saw you, I knew you were more than a way to slake my desires. You have fire in you, intelligence, and wit, you’re soft yet hard, and more beautiful than any artwork in any museum. While I was insanely aroused by your beauty, I know myself. I need more than just sex. I need a connection to the person I’m with.”
“So you want what, exactly? A hard fuck then some guy talk? Who the hell comes to a whorehouse for conversation?” My God, he was bitter. It made me wonder what kind of deviant I must be to be so different from the men he usually bedded. How had he ended up here, doing this? Why wasn’t he modeling or in college or both?
“Yes, I want some conversation after we’re done.”
His shoulders softened and he laid the pepper spray on the bed within reach. “Okay, if that’s what you want, we can fuck, then talk. You want to cuddle, too?”
The snide in that comment made me chuckle dryly. “Is there something wrong with holding another warm body after intimacy?”
“No, I guess not. No one has ever asked me to talk to them, unless it was filthy talk, which you seem to hate.” He shuffled around a bit, folding his legs into a lotus, the movement pulling his robe off his left shoulder.
“If I wanted to hear bullshit porn talk, I’d watch it online.”
“Okay, I get it. You want to cuddle now?” He slid downward on the bed; his sleek legs now bared to my wandering eye. He had incredible legs, smooth as satin, with a delicate ankle and graceful high arch. I reached for a small foot and lifted it to my lips. His flesh twitched when I licked his ankle bone, then tasted each tiny toe before lapping a wet path up the inside of his leg to his balls. A soft but shaky exhalation fluttered out of him when I sucked his sac into my mouth. “We can cuddle later,” I said around a soft orb.
“Mm, okay, hug me later,” he replied with throaty laugh. The tension was leaving him quickly now that he was on his back. Sex he knew, that was delightfully obvious. It was the emotional aspect of love making and what came after that he was unsure about. Again, I wondered how long he’d been working here. How old was he? How long had he been a gem? Had he come into this profession willingly? If so, why? “Come up here,” he begged and tugged, worming his way down under me as I shimmied up over him. “Look how hard you got me.”
He arched his back, driving his cock into my pelvis. I ground my stiff dick against his, buried my face in his shoulder, and sucked hard on his neck as I rolled us to a new position. He leaned over me, his hair an onyx curtain that tickled my cheeks.
“You want me on top this time?” His breath was sweet still, his lip color smeared, his kohl smudged. Opal Mussed from Sex; someone should commission an oil painting of this beautiful man. I grabbed his hips and pushed him downward. He bit down on my chin, then sat up, long hair whipping back, his ass resting on my thighs. “Condom,” he whispered, wet his lips, and quickly covered my cock with latex. A thick line of lube, a touch of his lips to my shoulder, and his glorious heat slipped down over me. “Fuck, you’re fat.”
His gaze touched mine as he worked his hips in some roundabout way that made my brain melt.
“Yeah, honestly. I love fat dicks.”
“Glad…I could…good…holy hell,” I huffed, his rolling hips and soft little mewls whisking my intelligence away like Grandma’s stiff broom swept the dirt and dust out the back door. “Do not stop doing that.”
He smiled and it was wicked and beautiful and I pumped up into him just once so I could hear him whimper. When I got the sweet sound, I let him take over. He rode me hard, fast, and expertly. I came so hard and so furiously my spine popped when I bucked skyward to bury myself in him. He yelped when I thrust deep, his hair stuck to his arms and face, half obscuring him. I pushed it back, two hands on either side of his head, and pulled him down to me. Desperate to kiss him but knowing it was off the menu, I sucked on his earlobe as I filled the condom. He slid off me, dropping tiny kisses to my chest and nipples.
I rolled to my side, took his cock in my hand, and got him off with a few hard, tight tugs.
“You’re incredibly seductive,” I told him a few minutes later. He nodded serenely, his robe twisted around his waist, his hair a massive ball of static and knots. I touched the love bite on his neck, tracing the red welt that stood out in such stark contrast to his ivory skin.
“Thank you,” he purred, wriggling in close as I drifted off to the aroma of sex and jasmine. I slept soundly, so soundly that it took Opal giving me a hard shake to rouse me from a watery dream.
“Sorry, drifted off…” I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands.
“It’s five fifty-five. You have to leave my suite at six sharp or security will remove you.”
“Fuck, it’s morning?” I asked, sitting up, my head cloudy. Had I taken off the second dirty condom? Must be as it was gone. Or perhaps Opal had. He nodded and held out my clothes. His slim body was hidden in the folds of his red robe. We’d just gotten my shirt on when the door opened and a man the size of Mount Rushmore filled the jamb.
“Time to leave now,” Security said with a wave of his hand.
“Can I see you again?” I enquired as I slid my feet into my shoes. A firm hand gripped my arm and I was none too gently led from Opal’s suite. The door closed in my face. I jerked free from the man in the black t-shirt. “He never got to answer me.”
“Come back tonight, bring lots of cash. That’s the only way you ever see him again.”
I gave him a glare and the door to Opal’s suite one last look before I was escorted to the first floor lounge where coffee, Danish, and a highly disgruntled Butch awaited.