Page 14 of Sweet Shots

“This pretty little ass feels so good. Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s yours!” I croak. “All yours. Please letme come.”

“I’m almost there, baby. So close… Yes, just like that. Keep squeezing my cock. You’re going to make me come. Come with me, baby. Fuck, come now.”

The orgasm hits so hard I fall against the wall, my cum splattering against the shower curtain. My heart is pounding, my toes curling from the intensity. I stroke my dick until it’s soft, still feeling shock waves of my orgasm throughout my body.

Shit, I haven’t come that hard in a long time. Obviously I needed it. Stress will do that to you. Or maybe it’s my arrogant neighbor that does it to me…

Nah, that can’t be it. It’s definitely not him. No way in hell is it him.

Chapter Six

Dominic

I like Mikah’s feistiness, and the thought of him on his knees for me is appealing because of it. I love a good brat to tame, and Mikah is such a brat. That alone has me wanting to say yes to him. I know, even without really knowing him, that it would be a good time. Of course, there are terms we’d have to agree to. If he won’t tell me why he needs the money, that’s fine. It’s a limit for him and not necessary. But there are other terms he’d have to agree to.

I’d thought of waiting to see if he would give in and beg. I’d love to see him beg. Seems he isn’t that desperate. At least, not yet. Which is why I’m going to give him an olive branch. I’ll let him know I’ve changed my mind, and we can discuss this a little further. I want to see how far he is willing to go for this. Personal stuff is the hard limit, it seems, but that still leaves me a lot of room to work.

I’ve always been a curious guy. I’m impulsive and not good at controlling myself. The only time I am good at control is when it comes to sex. Then, and only then, do I have self-discipline. Out in the real world? Not even close.

Which is why I’m walking up Mikah’s steps, about to bang on his door. I saw him come home a little while ago, and considered meeting him on his way in, but he had his hands full of grocery bags and I knew it would be an excuse to get out of the conversation. I also saw his note on the window, which was cute.

He pulls the door open, looking a little disheveled. His dark hair is sticking up all over the place and there are bags under his green eyes. Eyes that widen when they see me. His shoulders sag.

“What do you want?” he asks. None of the fire that I saw the other day is there; the fire that I crave.

“Just want to talk. I’ve reconsidered.”

“I’m not telling you my personal business, so you can—”

“I’ve accepted that,” I say, holding up my hands.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” I say with a nod. “It was rude of me to ask for that when we don’t know each other. Besides, you’re doing me a favor. 100k is a good chunk of money. Can I come in?” I ask, but I walk in before he gives me an answer.

I’m surprised when I look around his house, finding it bare. I mean, it’s decorated, but minimally. Everything is pristine, too. Looks unused or brand new. There is no clutter, no junk. It’snothing like my house. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he just moved in.

“I’d show you around, but you already know where everything is,” he comments, walking to his living room and dropping onto the couch. The Price is Right is playing on the TV, muted, and there’s a mug of tea on the coffee table, on top of a coaster. Yeah, he’s a coaster guy. Saw that from a mile away.

I sit on the armchair that’s perpendicular to the couch.

“So, tell me more about what we would need to do,” I say, keeping my tone even.

He sighs, then sits up and reaches for his tea, taking a sip. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m good.”

He nods, putting his mug down. “So, I offered the special project to my fans. It’s a calendar from BTL and there will be a video, which was a last-minute addition. At first it was just going to be photos, but I figured the video would be better. There’s a contract. We’d have to get tested, all the normal stuff. There aren’t really any limits, other than the shoot has to be themed to a holiday, which I already chose.”

“What did you choose?” I ask.

“National Chocolate Mousse Day,” he says with a shrug. “Figured the chocolate would be a fun addition.”

It will be indeed.I watch him for a moment, taking in how tired he looks. Kind of feel bad for the guy. Something’s eating him and I don’t think he has anyone to talk to about it. I never see people come and go from his house, and he hardly leaves.

“So, this money offered has nothing to do with BTL, then?”

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