August 29, 2022 #2
“I don’t want you because you spent a night with me. I want the version of you that became who you are by age 30. The person who’s been praised in the newspaper and has been given several trailblazer awards. I want that woman.”
I took a second and composed myself. I don’t know why it made me emotional.
“That’s sweet.” It was all I could get out at that moment.
I could see he sensed the heaviness of the conversation, so he changed gears.
“Since I don’t know you, tell me something about you that nobody knows.” He asked.
I’m a hoe. Sex is my version of a hobby. I thought to myself. But I didn’t say it aloud.
“Cocoa puffs are my comfort food.” I shrugged.
He paused, and then we both burst into laughter.
“That’s not what I meant.” He chuckled.
“What about you?” I shot back.
“My mother calls me every Sunday.”
I was confused because mine calls me every day. I waited for an explanation.
He smiled. “You know that thing I said about control? I think people think that it means nobody tells me what to do. But every Sunday…” He left it open, and we laughed again.
“So, what happens if you miss a Sunday?” I asked.
“I don’t.” He said, giving me a dead stare, and I laughed so hard that I cried.
We sat on the rooftop and laughed for far too long. It was almost like the other three people standing nearby weren’t even there.
After a while, he walked over to the three of them, and they all waved goodbye and got on the elevator.
He came back over to the table and grabbed my hand to make me stand, then he brought me between his legs so that I was standing in front of him.
He rubbed my butt while I cupped the back of his head, just enjoying the scenery.
“Pretty.”
“Hmm?” I asked as he broke the silence between us.
“I miss how you taste…”
I held my breath. He waited for a response.
“Can I taste you?” He asked.
“Dinero, we’re on the rooftop of your building. Anyone could see us.”
“That’s why I have these flower walls, and security has been instructed not to let anyone up. Are you telling me I can’t taste you, pretty?”
It was something about the switch from Dinero to dominant that did it for me.
“No.”
“Good girl.” He said as he reached behind me and undid the dress that I was wearing. He pushed it down over my hips. I was confused myself about how I just went along with what he was saying.
We were out in public, and my career wasn’t something I gambled with, ever.
“Put your leg on the chair for me, pretty.” He said as he stroked himself through his pants.
I was only in my bra, on the rooftop of his building, completely exposed from the waist down. Just as I had the thought, he undid my bra, too, and it fell to the floor with the rest of my clothing.
But I put my leg on the chair like he had asked me to, and he went between my legs. I could feel him inhale before licking. I moaned and cupped his head.
My voice sounded like it was amplified in the empty space, but that didn’t stop me from moaning.
“Ah, fuck!” I cried as he pulled my clit into his mouth firmly and then ran the tip of his tongue across it at lightning speed.
It didn’t take long; honestly, I think if that timer were running, he definitely would have outdone his last time.
After I came, I held on to his neck and caught my breath.
My leg shook against the metal arm of the chair, and he looked up at me with a smirk from between my legs. I scoffed and then stood.
“Pretty.” He said as he stood and walked a couple of feet from me.
He unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time.
The shirt fell to the ground. Then he moved to his belt buckle.
I stood there, naked as the day I was born, in a trance, watching him undress.
The way his pecks flexed when he undid the belt, and the button of his pants made me chew my lip.
“Come here, pretty.” He called out to me right as he pushed down his pants and boxers. My feet moved like they had a mind of their own. Because before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him. Shit, maybe I was a better submissive than I thought.
He grabbed my neck. Holding me in place so we didn’t break eye contact.
“You know what else I miss?” He asked me.
“What?”
“The way your lips felt wrapped around my dick. Can you be a good slut and handle that for me?”
My eyebrow rose, and heat washed over me so quickly and settled between my legs. I clenched my legs together. He caught it because he called it out.
“I’m going to give her all the attention she wants in a minute. But right now, pretty. Put this dick in your mouth.” He groaned.
I leaned down and licked the tip of his dick. I sucked him as best I could. I could feel his veins slick against my tongue and jaw. It turned me on more. I couldn’t swallow his entire dick, but I tried.
“Damn, pretty.” He groaned as he jerked at the feeling.
I moaned as I sucked him; he groaned loudly. We both drowned out the soft hum of the music. I sped up and massaged his balls as I sucked. It wasn’t more than three seconds before he was grabbing my hair and was cumming inside of my mouth.
I swallowed it, and then he stood me to my feet and gave me the sloppiest kiss.
He damn near dragged me toward the table that we were on and pushed the plates backward. He adjusted my leg so my knee was on the table. I groaned as he entered me and gripped the table runners.
We both cried out in unison.
He pushed my hair to the front of me and kissed my shoulder.
“Slide back on it pretty… yeah, just like that.” He rasped.
He fucked me and talked me through every single second of it. My pussy was drenched; I could literally feel my wetness sliding down my legs and falling at my ankles.
His hand gripped my waist tightly as he dug deep into my walls.
I whimpered as he fucked me.
“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked me, taunting me.
I didn’t answer, just whined.
“You can’t take it?” He questioned.
“No,” I answered.
He eased up. His strokes were light. “That’s better?” He asked.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“What if I don’t want to be soft, pretty? What if I want to fuck this pussy?” He asked as he sped back up to the original pace.
I continued to whimper lowly.
“I love when you cry for me; you’re not loud enough. Let me hear you.” He gritted, pulling my hair.
By that point, I was done; my legs started to shake again as I struggled to hold myself up on the table. At one point, I heard a glass fall and shatter, and he still fucked me.
“Tell me when you’re about cum.” He demanded.
I don’t know what it was about that phrase that made me want to disobey it every single time. Without warning, my body shook, and I squirted. I wet him, the edge of the table, myself, the ground.
I cried so loudly, I knew the people in the street 16 stories down could hear me. He grabbed me and pulled me to his chest before he pulled out of me and probably said every curse word in the Urban Dictionary.
We stood like that. Still against each other, finally our breathing synced from fast and ragged to slow and controlled.
He sat in the chair and pulled me into his lap.
He kissed my shoulder and my face. It was like I felt like I had no worries in the world.
I was free, and we were butt-ass naked on the top of a building.
Forbid, they brought out the drones for census research; we’d be somewhere on a map app for the world to see.
Eventually, we put on our clothes, and I told him that I definitely needed to go home and shower, but he wasn’t having that. Instead, he took me back to his estate, where I spent the rest of the day being tossed like a salad.
We took a nap together, and when we woke up, he fed me again.
When night started to fall, he took me home instead of his driver. When he pulled into my driveway, he silenced the engine and gave me a serious look.
“Listen, pretty. I mean what I said.” He reminded me.
I nodded.
“I’ve had a great day with you, Dinero. But still, with my career, I can’t see myself being domestic.”
It made him laugh. Maybe because women would jump at the chance to be on his arm. But for me, it was deeper than that. I needed to at least feel like I wanted to give relationships a chance, and right now, I just didn’t.
“Okay, pretty. I understand that. Are you open to trying?” He asked.
“I’m open to being open. I can’t say I’m there yet.” I laughed. But it was the truth. Two days weren’t enough for me to say I wanted to date him.
Silence stretched for a while between us.
“I understand your hesitance, but I want what I want.” He doubled down.
I bit my lip and then pulled the latch of the door and pushed it open.
“Goodnight, Dinero,” I said as I hopped out and went into my home.
Today was a day for the books, or in my case, for the journal.
But I can’t say that I was willing to try to be in a relationship.
Especially not with a man who told me he felt the same way as I did.
One day we just might wake up and say fuck each other.
I shook my head as I walked upstairs to soak.
Now I’m sitting at my desk writing and craving the touch of a man who was only supposed to be temporary, yet again. My phone vibrated, and his name flashed across the screen. I ignored it. He would learn in due time that it’s hard trying to be with a woman like me.
I’m going back to sleep. It’s only Monday, and I have a whole week ahead of me. Goodnight.
Can you turn a hoe into a housewife?
The Heaux