IT had been so long since I’d needed casual clothes, it threw off my usual routine of packing for business trips. That should tell me something. Only thirty-one years old, and I couldn’t remember the last weekend I’d had away.
I really couldn’t remember when or where, and it annoyed me. Because it brought back what my dad had told me on his deathbed in full-on Technicolor. I could see him saying the words to me. “When you find whatever it is that makes you happy, Caleb, hold on to it with everything you’ve got. Your heart will let you know.”
Did I even know what my “happy things” were?
No, I did not.
I did, however, know what didn’t make me happy. And that was being so fucking confused about my feelings for a girl I barely knew. My feelings? I scowled at that thought, and threw the last of my shit into my bag and zipped it closed.
Just enough time for a quick shower before heading back to the offices where the heliport sat at the very top of Blackstone Global Enterprises.
I stripped off everything and let the hot water roll over me for a minute before I went for the soap. I wasn’t sure about a lot of things at the moment, but one mystery had been cleared up for me. Brooke Ellen Casterley. I was also in possession of her design bio, and had an appointment to meet with her late Monday afternoon.
So, it was happening, and I’d have to deal with it Monday when I walked into her office to let her know about her new project, and hopefully relieve her financial stresses. She didn’t need to find a second job any longer. The retainer fee I’d deposited tonight, payable directly to her, would take care of any urgent debts. I’d made sure.
My plan might flop if she decided she wanted nothing to do with me, but I felt confident she would accept. And if she did accept the job, at least she would be working for me for as long as it took to renovate the penthouse. That meant I would have access to see her and talk to her . . . for a long time. What did I care if the styling cues weren’t to my taste? What did I know about the interior design of a home? Nothing. Everything I’d given input on before was for business offices.
Just thinking about her even a little drew a reaction out of my aching cock. Remembering how she looked walking across the street in her pink coat and leather pants had me rock hard in seconds. Some soap applied under the steaming hot shower spray to just the right places . . .
My hand reaching down to grip the heavy weight was inevitable.
I needed to release some tension, and it felt far too fucking good once I started to even consider stopping. I wouldn’t stop pumping my fist up and down the length of my cock. Couldn’t.
The sound of my hand as it fought for friction against the tight skin of my dick sounded almost brutal. Root to tip, twisted, and then slammed back down all the way again. Over and over the motion was repeated, all while images of her bombarded me. Some real, some fantasy—mixed in together to make such an erotic concoction I nearly went down in the shower at one point when my knees buckled. Only one thing would end it. And that would be when I came furiously hard from picturing the image of Brooke beneath me, surrounding me, and in my arms as we did this together.
It took about three more seconds after I imagined how beautiful she’d look while we were fucking.
Beautiful is how Brooke would be with my cock buried deep inside her. She would be mine when that happened.
I called out her name when cum shot up hard from my balls and out through the head of my now-abused cock. It kept coming in punishing spurts to mix with the steam and the hot water, draining me in a way that felt unfamiliar because everything was different now.
Her name on my lips as I came would have happened whether I wanted it to or not. Brooke and I were inevitable.
Inevitable.
Brooke
On Fridays I had my dinner with Nan at the therapy facility. She told me what was going on with the other “inmates” as she referred to them, and I ate cafeteria food served on a tray complete with a boxed juice and a chocolate pudding for dessert. I didn’t mind; it was just food. You put it in your body when you’re hungry.
“Hi, Brooke,” Lilah called from the nurses’ station, “there will be three of you for dinner tonight. She looks so pretty. I’ll bring it to the room in a few minutes.”
Three of us? I wondered who was visiting Nan at dinnertime. “She always looks pretty, Lilah, and thank you for looking after her so well.”
“It won’t be long until she’s out of here, she’s improving every day.”