Page 66 of Just Like You
“You said we had to act like locals!” he whispered, a little too loudly. “That we need to look like we live here.”
“Well, we don’t, but we can only try.” I laughed. At least I had convinced him to leave his watch in the hotel room safe, with the Patek, and to lose his wallet in favour of a few bills in his pocket, and his phone tucked inside his waistband.
I’d also made him wear just a T-shirt, which he hated, but I secretly loved. It made him look dangerously buff. Hot.
“When do you have time to go to the gym?” I asked, poking a finger in his chest. Firm. Hard. Mine.
“We have a gym at the office. I go in the mornings, or if I feel frustrated, I go lift some weights at lunchtime. Just to clear my head. We all tend to learn other people’s routines, so I can avoid working out next to people I don’t like. Like this guy Bash. Don’t really like him because he did the dirty on Juliet.”
“Who’s Juliet again?”
“My boss. Badass girl. Looks all pretty and innocent but can make grown men cry. I speak from experience.”
I had to laugh at that. “You sure it wasn’t the other way around? You made her cry?”
“Nah. Juliet doesn’t cry. She gets bullshit angry. Fuming on the inside and puts this sweet smile on her face. That’s when you need to clear out because she’s about to pull some moves. I like her, a lot, and not in that way.”
We were walking down Avenida Paulista, just enjoying the busy sidewalks and bustling traffic. Talking as we leisurely made the city our own. Buildings. People. Eyes at the back of my neck. Couldn’t help it. I’d been robbed in a taxi here once and knew how to blend in on my own. Cap on my head, T-shirt and jeans, walking with my head down? I could get away with anything. But I had this big dude next to me, and he was just looking at everything and getting excited about stupid shoe shops and wanting to find a place that made some gourmet Brazilian pastels he’d looked up online.
His enthusiasm was infectious because where I’d normally have stacked up on snacks and lounged around in my room, perhaps dipping down to the pool area to check in with my crew? This trip had become a culinary delight, and yeah. My arse had taken a pounding, at one point making me wonder if we needed to find me a wheelchair for the way back. It wasn’t that bad. Not really, but he was just walking here like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just fucked me to splinters this morning and got away with it.
Was I complaining?
Nah. I was a bottom, through and through. Mostly.
It was just that he was sexy. Attractive, and perhaps way out of my league, but whatever he wanted? I’d give it to him. I wanted to.
“Would you ever let me fuck you?” I asked as he stopped outside a pharmacy, browsing the colourful display of tacky souvenirs.
“Wow,” came out of his mouth. “That’s one to throw at me walking down the street.”
“Not really. It’s a simple yes or no answer.”
He laughed, and I liked that he did.
“I’m your stereotypical bi guy. I like to fuck people. Never really…you know…wanted it the other way. No offense to anyone who does.”
“It’s my thing,” I said, straight to his face. I liked that I could. We had no secrets, none whatsoever, and that was new. A nice feeling to have sat in your chest. No lies. No drama. Just say whatever came to mind, and it would be fine. I could tell he felt it too, that smile on his face far too obvious. “Luckily for you, I like getting fucked.”
“I like…arse. And toys. But I like using them on… Well. You. I love women, and I love their bodies, and all the fun things I can do with them. But…I love arse. I love anal, and I especially like yours. I dunno, it’s just something with you. You’re fun and gorgeous, and you know your body and what you like. How much you can take and how to run with whatever I throw at you.”
“I will tell you if something is too much.”
“Good, because I want you to. And if you want to try other things? I mean. I’m not unreasonable. If you have needs… I’m here for all of that.”
“Good.” The only word I felt was appropriate in that moment. Good. Things were. Good. So bloody good. He hugged me, right there in the street.
“Do you think I can go in here and ask to buy condoms and lube? I mean? You shouldn’t be providing it all.”
“You bought me dinner. And you paid the room service bills this morning. I think I can afford to keep you in sexual protection supplies.”
“Good to know.” He smiled.
“But if you want to experience buying lube in Portuguese? Be my guest.”
“What is condom in Portuguese?”
“No idea, let me google.”
