10. Denise
Chapter ten
Denise
I 'm outside Cory's place again, this time fully-sober. Not that there's anything wrong with high sex, but I need to know if it was a fluke or if he's really that good. I damn sure don't need another Derek disaster.
Exactly thirty minutes after my last text, I walk through the doors of his fancy building straight to the doorman's desk.
"Denise Jeffries for Cory Park," I announce. Fingers crossed I don't have to do the whole ID song and dance.
The doorman is around my age, close to 5'10 or 5'11, and clearly Italian. His frame is thick, like he enjoys the gym and ice cream equally, and his wavy hair is slicked back under the hat of his uniform. He's definitely good looking, and I've been known to enjoy a little salsiccia from time to time. He eyes me appreciatively.
"Ah, yeah. Ms. Jeffries," he says, sounding like a young Tony Soprano. "You can go right up. You're on the list."
I give him a wink before sashaying into the elevator. God, I love New York .
The ride up is quick, and I'm at Cory's door before I know it. He yanks it open after just one knock.
"Hey there," he almost purrs, and I have to bite my lip to keep my tongue in my head. The man is scorching .
He leans against the doorframe in only jeans, letting me bask in all his shirtless glory. The sleek lines of his chest mimic the body of a luxury sports car; all performance and speed. And, holy smokes, he looks…damp? Like he's fresh out of the shower, the steam still clinging to him. Water droplets dust his shoulders and I ignore the ridiculous urge to lick them. Instead, I walk past him into his apartment as if I'm completely unaffected. His eyes track my movement.
"Why are you wet?" I ask, dropping my bag onto a chair in the living room.
He prowls towards me with all the menace of a lion, his virility radiating off him in waves. I shuffle backwards, feeling hunted. So much for our connection being a fluke.
"I just finished a game of flag football with my brothers when you texted and had to shower," he says, a slight quirk in his lips. "I can stay sweaty next time, if you prefer."
A dangerous mouth, just as I suspected. I step out of my Caroline Hu adidas Superstars and Cory raises an eyebrow in admiration.
"Nice kicks. I have those in the triple white."
I lift my chin.
"That reminds me. Don't you owe me a tour of your sneaker collection?"
His face instantly morphs from dangerous predator to kid excited to show off his toys , and I inwardly allow myself to be charmed by his enthusiasm . He motions towards to the hallway leading to his bedroom.
"Right this way."
The same masculine navy and chrome aesthetic of the living room continues in his bedroom, though his posters are far more revealing than the curated art of his public space. Classic artists like Biggie Smalls, Wu-Tang Clan, and Jay-Z adorn the walls next to contemporary artists like Kendrick Lamar, Anderson .Paak, and Cardi B. Andre had quite a few of the same posters…
We pass the king-size bed and walk straight into a massive walk-in closet. My bedroom closet is a shoebox in comparison.
"Ta-da!" he announces, and I audibly gasp.
Custom shelves display Air Jordans, Dunk Lows, limited edition Air Force Ones, and even Yeezy's. The Triple White adidas Superstars sit next to a pair of vintage Nike Mags and I try not to gape. Over $100,000 in shoes is tastefully lit with recessed lighting, and I suddenly feel like a hobbyist in the presence of a sneaker professional.
"This is seriously impressive," I say, awe in my voice.
I see a pair of Air Jordan 1 High OG Collete's and I nearly swoon. He nods when I reach out to run my finger along the supple leather.
"I actually flew to Paris for the closing of Colette to get this pair. My brothers thought it was excessive, but they were an institution and, as you can see, I'm a little bit obsessed."
I don't understand the chagrined look on his face, considering I'd literally commit a felony for these shoes.
"If your only vice is overspending on sneakers, I'd say you're doing better than 98% of the population."
He laughs at that, and heads back out into his bedroom. After one last longing glance, I follow.
"You, of all people, know that's not my only vice." His voice turns seductive, and my body goes on alert.
"Beside sneakers, I enjoy THC, loads of casual sex, and nights of drinking that sometimes lead to strangers in my bed." He grins. "Plenty of people would call my lifestyle hedonistic."
I roll my eyes and sit on the bed.
"Prudes, maybe, but I don't see anything wrong with indulging in life's pleasures. Life's way too short to play by the rules."
He sits next to me, bracing his arm behind my back so his skin brushes against mine.
"On that, we can agree," he murmurs.
Without preamble, he pounces, locking his lips on the hammering pulse at my throat. My fingers fly into his hair, raking through the long, messy strands and pulling him harder into me. His teeth scrape my collarbone, and I let out a whimper as lust builds inside me. He drags his lips down the column of my neck until they reach the high collar of my blouse.
"Why the hell would you cover up these amazing tits?" he groans as he squeezes one in his sizeable hand. As large as they are, my breasts still overflow.
"To torment you, of course," I reply flirtatiously, and I'm rewarded with a playful bite to my nipple through the fabric.
"Off," he demands, sitting back so I have enough room to remove the offending garment. I almost laugh at his pouty expression.
"Bossy, much?" My resistance is for show; I'm just as eager as he is to be skin to skin.
With my shirt gone, he makes quick work of my bra—it's commendable, given the number of hooks required to keep the girls supported—and my breasts spill into his open mouth.
"Mmmph," he moans, lavishing kisses and licks on the sensitive flesh between my breasts. The sensation is overwhelming, and I pull him away by the hair.
"Hey!" he protests, but when I push him onto his back to straddle him, he dives back into my breasts once more.
I came wearing a skirt again because I like to work smarter, not harder, and I pull the material up to my hips to increase my contact with the throbbing member currently stabbing me in the thigh. Our heats coalesce, and I grind on him, gyrating in a rhythm meant to test his control.
"Nuh uh," he says, and flips me onto my back in one swift movement that takes my breath away. "You're not taking it this time."
I smirk, even though I enjoy the press of his hips between my thighs.
"It got the job done, didn't it?"
He squeezes my hip in retaliation.
"If we're going to keep doing this, you'll learn I like to do better than 'get the job done'," he growls.
I smile mischievously. I have zero problems with a man fucking me like he has something to prove.
Cory reaches beneath my skirt and I feel the sting of fabric cutting into my flesh, followed by a ripping sound.
"I liked those!" I complain.
"Next time, don't wear any," he commands. My pussy gushes in pleasure. Fuck yes, boss me around, baby!
I cry out when two thick fingers part my folds and push roughly into me. They stroke boldly, twisting and curling, the telltale sounds of my wetness filling the air.
"I'm going to make you cum on my hand, then I'm going to make you cum on my tongue, and then, if you're good, I might let you cum on my cock."
I bark out a laugh. Arrogant prick .
"If I'm good? How about if you're good, I let you kiss my ass?"
Cory laughs in response, and curls his fingers wickedly against my G-spot. My toes curl.
"That's hardly a threat, since I will happily kiss your ass, then lick your ass, from the back all the way to the front."
Jesus Christ!
He picks up the pace and my orgasm creeps closer. I'd hate to give him the satisfaction of cumming so soon, but I'm helpless against his expert fingers. I clench my teeth when my walls begin to flutter around them. He tsks.
"So stubborn. For that, I'm going to make you scream my name."
He slides a third finger through my slickness to gently massage my back entrance, and I lose all grip on reality. I nearly sit up with the power of the release, grabbing his hand to hold him in place through my ecstasy.
"Fuuuuck!" I scream into his chest, panting.
My legs are jelly, I'm out of breath, and all he's done so far is finger me. I congratulate myself for not shouting his name, even though it was on the tip of my tongue. I open my eyes and am met with his smug expression. Fuck .
"That was cheating," I grumble, and he chuckles.
"I don't remember us laying down any rules."
Even with that self-satisfied grin, he looks devastatingly handsome. Flushed, sweaty, and…still wearing his pants? We'll need to remedy that immediately. When I reach for the button on his jeans, he swats me away.
"But it's your turn."
He shakes his head.
"It'll be my turn after I eat that pretty pussy of yours. Then I am gonna make you scream my name."
I scoff, though it's with significantly less confidence than before he made me cum so hard I glitched. Playing it cool with Cory might just prove impossible.