The Boy Next Door (12 page)

“Your mouth is fucking hot.”

He was a man of few words, but all the blood was now rushing to a certain little head so I guess that might be why. He was now in my house and this was where I was most comfortable. I would have to really like the man to do this.  I could play a man like a musical instrument and make music that would be on the Top 40.

I started off with just light licks at the top and this of course elicited more of that sticky syrup. I tasted it and I had to admit that there was no bitterness. It was a clean and smooth flavor and that had to be a testament to how he was treating his body like a temple.

I slid him back out, until just the head remained and then I dove down with an insistence that came quite by surprise. He grabbed onto the back of the elevator, as I heard him moan and call out my name. “Damn it, Vivian.”

I don’t think he realized just what he was getting himself into, but he was about to find out. He was leaking profusely across my tongue and I used that as a special lube to slide his way into my throat. I left him there and I wanted him to feel completely powerless and unable to stop himself from going over the edge.

I saw that his legs were shaking and that his hips were involuntarily pushing up against my face. I was deepthroating him and eight inches is not an easy thing to make disappear. I’ve been down this road a few times and each time was even better than the last. I got a good rhythm going and I even put my hand into play. His breathing was getting erratic and I could tell that it wouldn’t be long before he gave me my just desserts. The creamy center was mine, but then I had a better idea.

I pulled completely away, leaving him stunned and looking at me like he couldn’t believe that I was actually stopping what I had started. It was amazing to see the color of his knob changing from an angry purple back to the pink flesh tone that I had come to know and love. He tried to grab for my head, but I dodged his advances and stood up.

“You can’t be serious.” I glanced behind me and I smiled. I hit the elevator button and it continued to climb, as I heard him cursing underneath his breath. There wasn’t much left to say and his frustration was quite evident by the way that he couldn’t stand still.

Chapter four

When the door opened on his penthouse, I walked in and immediately went towards the balcony. He had promised me a view that was going to be to die for and he did not disappoint. I felt the cool air caress my skin and I felt a little like myself again. I’d lost it there for a moment, but I was able to pull myself back before I did anything that I would regret.

“I can’t believe that you did that. What a bitch.”

I wasn’t expecting him to say that, but apparently he didn’t have a filter and had no problems speaking his mind. “Nobody has ever done that before and I’m not sure I want to have it done again. You have no idea how hot I am for you.”

He was nuzzling my neck and he turned his hand around in front of me, so that he could hand me a flute of champagne. I took a sip, as he became quite amorous.

“Toby, if you think that I’m a tease, then you’re right. I find it interesting to make men boil inside and then leave him simmering on a slow heat. You’ll thank me for it. You may not think so, but you will.”

He was reigniting that ember that he had fanned into a flame in the elevator. The back of my neck is very sensitive and add to the fact that he was pinching at my nipples through the material of my blouse and it was all that I could do not to jump into his arms.

I reached down and unsnapped the bra that I was wearing. I pulled it free from my blouse and tossed it over the railing and watched it float down into traffic. It would be interesting to know who it would end up with.

I turned and pushed him away, so that he could watch, as I took off my blouse one button at a time. It came loose and I pulled it off and tossed it over the railing. I was naked from the waist up and he was now staring at me with desire in his eyes.

I began to take off my pants and I turned away from him, so that I could bend slightly and pull it over my ample ass. It was my pride and joy and I heard him moan. I was about to toss that over the railing, as well, but I stopped myself and waved my finger back and forth to indicate that wasn’t going to happen. I dropped it on the balcony and then I reached for my panties, biting my tongue and watching, as he rearranged himself.

He thought that I was going to take my underwear off, but instead I walked right past him and slapped him lightly against the face. I sashayed with my hips swaying from side to side up the stairs with him panting right behind me. I could feel his breath on my panties and when I got to his bedroom, I sat on the bed with my legs spread with that telltale wet spot calling for his attention. It was like a matador bringing a bull closer to him by waving a red cape in front of his eyes. Toby was staring at me and I could sense that the animal within was about to take over.

I pointed to the floor and I think he got the general idea, because he got down on all fours and began to crawl to me. He was now situated between my knees and he touched them. He spread me, so that he could reach for my panties and pull them delicately down my legs.

“I can honestly say that I don’t usually like a tease, but for you I will make an exception.” He saw that I was completely shaved and that the lips were just waiting for a special kind of kiss. He gave it that kiss and stuck his tongue inside me, before retrieving it. We dueled to see who was going to come out on top.

I pushed him down by his shoulders and I sat there and watched, as he came ever closer to the object of his desire. One feel of his tongue inside me was enough to stoke the fire and get it burning again. He inserted his tongue inside and I clamped down on him, so tightly that I thought for sure that I was going to rip out his tongue and hand it to him. He moved with grace and his fingernails were not digging into my thighs.

“Yes, eat that pussy and make me cum over your face.”

He was feeding off my dirty talk and I had wrapped my one leg around his neck to keep him in place. I began to hump my body up against his mouth and he was tongue lashing my clit and making it dance to his own tune. “That’s it; just keep doing it exactly like that… YESSSSSS.”

My legs went into the air with my toes pointed towards the ceiling and every muscle in my body straining for some sort of release. I came with an intensity that made it hard for him to hold me down.

I was enjoying the aftermath and I laid there in ecstasy, until finally I felt something nudging at the lips of my sex. I opened my eyes and saw that he was hovering over me with his face near mine. “I want you, Vivian.”

I had no idea how my legs could bend in such a way. He had them over his shoulders and while he was kissing me, I could see my own painted purple toes in front of my eyes.

“Give it to me… Show me the kind of man that you are, Toby.” I felt that large knob separate the petals and he drove in with a precision that took my breath away. My ass was poised on the edge of the bed and he was standing and lifting my body towards him. He was balls deep and now fucking me with the power of his muscular frame. I lightly slapped at his chest, but it was in no way a sign that he should stop.

“I knew that you were going to be something special, but I didn’t think that I was going to fall for you. I didn’t even know what love is and I guess you never do, until you find it.”

He was punctuating each word with a sharp jab of his hips. He slowed down and made me feel every inch. Every time that I was about to go off, he would stop it from happening. I think that he was doing it to get back at me for what I did in the elevator."

“I want you to fuck me, Toby. Do it like I like it, rough, hard and fast. Pull my hair and slap my ass.”

He didn’t need a second invitation and he was now holding onto my cheeks, while pulling all the way back and then driving in with a speed that didn’t seem possible. The bed was actually shaking with the effort of his thrusts. “That’s it, do it…get that hole. It’s hungry and it needs what you can give it.”

Each time that he was moving against me, I could feel the shaft rubbing up against my little friend. I think he was doing it with a conscious effort and for once, I think that a man actually knew what he was doing.

He slapped by ass and that echoing strike rang in my ears. The extra pain was the added bonus and it brought forth that one orgasm that he had been trying to stop. He pulled me by the hair and kissed me, as I moaned and let him have his way with my body.

While I was massaging his length, he pulled free and turned me around, so that I was on my feet with my upper half bent over onto the mattress. He once again slapped my upturned ass and I knew just from the heat that it was probably a nice rosy hue. He held onto my hips and gave me all of him. He moved his hands up to my shoulders for extra leverage and I had to admit that in this position, I could get him even deeper than he was before.

I took it upon myself to initiate contact with my clit and I played my thumb around it, but not quite touching it. When I did touch it, I pulled back and it was all that I could do to stop myself from succumbing to my baser nature.

“I…don’t…know how much more…I can take.” I knew that he was coming to the end of his rope and the feel of his member swelling was a sure sign that things were going to get messy “I’m fucking going to cum.”

This was when I pressed on my clit and felt totally ready to let him take me to a place that I never wanted to return from.

The constant movement of his cock going back and forth in a seesaw formation was more than enough to make me see those same stars. “Oh God, Toby…TOBYYYYYYYY.”

I think we both reached that point almost at the same time. It wasn’t quite, but it was so close that it wasn’t funny. I think that if it was possible the decibel of our outcries of pleasure would’ve peeled the paint right off the walls. I’m sure that his neighbors were listening to our union and I could only hope that it was making them turn to their partner to give them a little something.

I fell to my knees on the hardwood floor with him over top of me. We were sweaty and exhausted and our skin was sticking us to one another. We peeled away from one another and we finished going over the contract. This time, he was being fair and not so stuck in his ways.

“I hope that you not doing this just for me, Toby.”

We were lying in bed completely naked with this contract strewn out in front of us. It was like our own personal blanket of choice. Toby looked a little uncomfortable and I guess he wasn’t used to doing the right thing.

“I can’t say that you didn’t open up my eyes. I was quite content screwing over anyone and everyone. You awakened my conscience and I’m not sure that I should thank you or curse you.” I traced a line down between his well defined pectorals and I could see that his depleted organ was not going to stay down for long. “I hope that we are not just two boats passing in the night, Vivian. I would really like to continue to see you. I’m certainly not mentioning marriage, because I’ve been down that road and I’m not sure if I want to take another trip.”

This was something that I could understand and being a product of a broken home had made me a little leery about making that kind of promise. They died two months after the divorce.

I didn’t even marry the father of Angela. He didn’t even know that she existed and that was one of my biggest regrets. I told him after she had died and I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. Thankfully, he had his own family and that would at least dull the ache of the one that he lost.

“I’m a bit commitment phobic, so that works for me. I would like to see where this goes, Toby. I have to say that you’ve definitely made me think that love exists.”

We kissed and then we lie back in each other’s arms with contentment on our faces. This is what I was missing and this is what I found. The companies did merge and they were both the better for it.

THE END

The Billionaire’s Mail Order Bride

Chapter 1

Darren Crowley was a racist, a sexist, a homophobe and a generally pompous and evil human being!

Or at least that’s what they all said, and once something is stated in the media it’s twice as hard to get it removed from the record.  How does one un-report things?  How does one change the stubborn mind of public opinion?  Nobody cared about the fact that the media lied about Darren and his wealthy family.  All that mattered was that he was rich, full of himself, and that his family had money.  That was reason to hate him enough.

And yeah, the fact that Darren always put his foot in his mouth when giving interviews didn’t help matters.  He was the definitive billionaire playboy type, in his late thirties but going on twenty-one in terms of responsibility.  With dark hair and a thick smile, he earned the label of rugged and handsome, even if he was as White as vanilla ice cream. 

He had only to step in mud to cause a citywide scandal.  Whenever he smiled they said he was faking for the camera.  Whenever he frowned or glared they said he was hiding secrets.  Maybe his best bet was to wear a bag over his head out in public.

Darren kept thinking that the interview earlier that day didn’t go too well.  The reporter seemed to have an axe to grind.  She had that strange wide-eyed dagger smile in her face that he used to see coming from mother whenever she was trying to catch him in a lie.

“So when you criticized the Black Lives Matter movement last week on your website, you were actually criticizing the entire black youth culture, correct?”

“No,” he said nervously.  “I never said that.  All I said was that White lives matter too.”

“Right, but you understand why the community perceives that as racist?”

“No. I mean, yes.  Well…it’s like this.  I believe in equality.”

“Uh-huh?”

“And…I think that all lives matter.  Blacks, Whites, Latinos…”

“Right…”

“I am a huge supporter of animal rights too.  And I think that in a perfect world we’d all be equal and treated with respect.”

“Okay,” she said with a smile.  “So you’re basically saying that Black lives are on par with animal life?”

“Well…that’s not exactly what I…what I meant to say was…”

“All I’m asking, Mister Crowley, is if the rumors are true.  That you are a racist.”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Even though on your Twitter account…”

“That was my ex-secretary.  She runs the Twitter account for me.  It wasn’t even aware what was being said.”

“So you’re denying the allegations.”

“I’m not in denial.  I’m just saying I’m not a racist.  Everything about me has been misconstrued.”

“So when you held a yacht party last year, did you or did you not say that no Black people were allowed on your boat?”

“No, that’s not what I said.  I barred one man who used to do contract work for me from coming to the party and he happened to be Black.”

“And so then you said all Black people were banned from your boat, meaning it as a joke.”

“No, that’s not true.  Someone blurted out, ‘Hey why don’t more Black people ride boats?’  And then someone else answered, Because they’re not falling for that again.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes.  I didn’t say it.  Because I thought it was in bad taste.”

“And the person who heard you say it…?”

“They’re making things up.  It was an entire boat full of staff workers.  It was a mob and people were heckling, people were drinking and laughing.  And you know that’s just the way the media works.  They want a story.  If you’re rich and successful, suddenly, there has to be a big moral flaw about you.  Nobody can be rich
and
a decent human being.  It’s either one or the other.  You know that.”

“Why would I know that, Sir?  Are you saying I must be poor and a decent human being because I’m Black?”  the woman said, tilting her head.

“No, no,” he said nervously.  “Look…uh…can we edit this part out of the interview?”

“Sure, no problem,” she said with a smile.

By the time Darren saw himself on television, it was a public relations nightmare.  The young and ambitious reporter had edited the piece to make it look like Darren was making racist statements, and hiding all of his uninteresting defenses and explanations.  Great, that meant another long weekend of answering irate phone calls, coming from sponsors, politicians, watchdog groups and angry family members. 

He tried to put it out of his mind. 
Who cares
? he thought, as he relaxed in his million dollar loft in New York, doing the absolute worst thing a rich White man could do.  Watching reruns of
Sanford and Son
while drinking spiked Kool-Aid.  All it took to tune the world out would be four mixes, a big bag of ice and equal measures of tequila, whiskey and rum.  Getting piss drunk out in public and laughing at stupid jokes.  Man, what he could do back in the day before anyone knew his name. 

Now they were all watching him like a hawk, trying to say he was a Trump supporter and that he was the shame of his family.  He wondered for a moment what it would be like to vanish and to live a normal life.  Living on an island somewhere, with millions in gold, of course.  But not having to carry the weight of the Crowley name everywhere he went. 

He laughed his ass off watching his favorite show while drinking alone.  Sure, he could call a half dozen hookers over and make this night feel like a real success.  But the idea just didn’t seem appealing tonight.  Somehow, all of these expensive things didn’t glow the way they advertised.  They only seemed to remind him of how much fun yacht parties were—not because they were ridiculously overpriced but because of the people who made life so fun, so loud and inviting.

He snorted at the last few moments of the show before dozing off.

Chapter 2

Darren had bizarre dreams, all about Fred Sanford, TV reporters, Donald Trump and the Kool-Aid Man—the one that screamed “Oh Yeah!” as he burst through walls, always at the perfect moment.  But when he woke up he had a particularly bulbous and “red” face glaring back at him.

The tyrannous Doc Crowley, the patriarch of the family.  The oil baron turned computer technology investor that seemed to have the whole world by the balls.  And whenever dad showed up he always had something heinous and unkind to say.

“So.  You thought it
funny
to appear on national television and turn our family name into a laughing stock.”  Doc Crowley frowned hard, giving his already weathered face another dozen wrinkles.

“What?”

“The press is having a field day with your interview.  Seriously, Darren?  Making an Amistad joke in public?  You know the media has no tolerance for that.” 

“I didn’t say it.  I denied saying it.  She twisted the story around.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.  “When reporters ask you to clarify something you deny, deny, deny.  How many times have I told you that?”

Darren shook his head.  “So what, are they asking for an apology?”

“You fool.  They’re trying to boycott you.  Our stock has already plummeted because of your shenanigans.  And I warned you it doesn’t help that you’re still single and screwing everything that returns your phone call.”

“Damn,” Darren said, shaking his head and trying to calm his nerves and his hangover.

“If things get any worse, I’m going to have to cut you off from the family name.”

“What?”

“You’ll still have your shares.  But I’d be foolish to let you remain vice president, wouldn’t I?”

“Shit,” he said, getting up and pacing around the room, finally feeling the seriousness of the situation.  “Okay…okay…how do I make this right?”

He eyed his father and then grabbed his head in angst, trying to come up with a solution.  “How about I apologize?  I hold a press conference and…”

“No,” Doc said firmly.  “You’re already a public relations nightmare.  For the love of God, stop talking to reporters.”

“Fine, fine.  I’ll do anything I have to do.  I know I can make this right.”

“Well…there is one thing you can do.”

Uh oh. 
Darren took a gulp.  Whenever dad said that, usually some ridiculous and off the wall favor followed.  One that the other person could never afford to refuse.  HE knew he was screwed.  Dad wasn’t being especially hard on him.  Everything the media said about Darren was the result of years of thoughtless statements and a “who cares” attitude about offending people.  It was all finally catching up to him.  One more scandal and the world would stop supporting Darren Crowley.

“Fine.  What is it?”

“What if…and this is just a scenario, mind you…what if you were to turn the rumors upside down and actually…”

“Oh wow, you’re right!” Darren interrupted.  “I could start dating a Black woman.  That will put the rumors to rest for good.”

“Actually, I was thinking something a little more serious.  How about you announce an engagement?  You find some B-grade actress, date for a while, announce an engagement and then dump her a few months later.  A lot of men do it.”

“That’s smart,” he said, excited about the chance to vindicate himself—and for once, doing something he loved.  Charming the pants off of women!  “I can see this working.”

“Yeah.  And then you can make the world think you actually like Black people.”

“But…I do, Dad.  I’m not actually a racist, you know.”

“Sure, son.  Say it just like that.”

Darren tightened his brow, annoyed at the Godfather of the Crowley fortune.  His dad was a faker for sure.  But he would be damned if the world was going to besmirch his name.  Darren wanted badly to make a name for himself and pick up the reins of the family name, carrying it into a new generation of political correctness.

This was the first step in the right direction, a new change…maybe even a brand new chapter in life.  It all sounded great, like an idea that was bound to work and make the new year a success. 

Then Darren made the mistake of drinking too much…

Chapter 3

He woke up in a stupor trying to remember what crazy things he did last night, reckless and hammered as always.  He remembered talking to his father.  He remembered looking for a woman to date, just as they had talked about.

“Oh shit…”

Then he remembered something else.

He saw himself, fifteen hours ago, tipsy and playing on social media.  Someone suggested he look for a mail order bride.  They said it would be easier.  They said it would be hilarious, to show up the press and make headlines.  They said all those things and Darren was so high on life he didn’t realize that he actually placed the order. 

He frantically searched his web history to see what he did and if all those crazy notions in his mind actually happened.

He clicked on the Lily Brides website, and saw dozens of purple links, already visited web pages of South African mail order brides.  He couldn’t seem to remember who or what he actually ordered, only that the order email came through.

Then, just as he started to panic, the truth came charging in with a new email.

Have you met her yet
?

Crowley remembered what happened.  He didn’t just talk to a friend—he actually spoke with a representative of the website.  Josiah, a travel agent-slash-mail order connection, probably not legal, and definitely a man with ways to get things done—not the kind of man you want to renege on. 

Darren replied back quickly, making a simple request.

I’m so sorry…I don’t remember a lot of what happened.  I thought we were discussing things in hypotheticals
. -D

No, sir.  You already forwarded my payment.  It is non-refundable. -J

Fine, just cancel the travel plans.  Something came up. -D

That’s unfortunate, Sir.  Because as I explained yesterday, during your party, my delegate is already in the United States.  And she was already staying in a hotel, awaiting my orders.  You paid for her.  Now you have the responsibility to dispose of her.  -J

What?!  This can’t be legal.  I want this order canceled!  -D

No one ever said this was legal.  And Mister Crowley, I suggest you not talk about legalities with me.  I know who you are.  I know you cannot afford to run your family’s name through the mud.  –J

So what, you’re extorting me? –D

No, Sir.  I am simply saying you ordered her.  Now you dispose of her in whatever manner your conscience allows.  You won’t be hearing from me anymore.  -J

“Shit…”

Darren argued on the phone with his lawyer for a good half hour.  Nothing he didn’t already know.  He was stupid for trusting someone on the “deep web,” double stupid for ordering a mail order bride, and just about out of “get out of jail free cards” when it came to bad publicity.  If it got out that he was fooling around with mail order brides—and African mail order brides at that—it was going to go from a national scandal to a worldwide disaster.