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  I found him fascinating. He was handsome, mysterious, covered in tattoos, and as sexy as any man I had ever seen. There was something about him that made me question his intentions, but I couldn’t quite identify it.

  After a silent moment, he turned around. “Desire or necessity?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The bike. Do you ride it out of desire or necessity?”

  “Necessity.” I chuckled. “I don’t have a car.”

  “Good thing it never rains here.” He walked toward me, and then glanced over his shoulder as he passed. “Follow me.”

  The kitchen had an ‘L’ shaped counter, with ceiling-high cabinets above the countertops. In the center sat an island that doubled as an eating space. I guessed the four bar stools positioned at the bar were the only pieces of furniture left behind when the space was cleaned out.

  He leaned against the island and pushed one of the barstools to the side with the edge of his boot. “Have a seat.”

  Without question or comment, I walked to the bar and sat down. It was so unlike me not to make a snide comment. It was equally uncommon for me to be in the presence of such a sexy piece of man-meat. After a moment’s thought, I simply dismissed my lack of attitude as me being out of my element and not knowing how to react.

  I turned to face him. “Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. As soon as he lowered his hands, a few strands fell into his face. He glanced around the room, and then looked at me. “I came into your office with an objective. Now, everything’s fucked up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have no interest in looking at this space,” he said.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  He crossed his arms and gave me a look. “No.”

  “But if you don’t want to--”

  “I’m here for another reason,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  I felt uneasy. His confident demeanor and lack of interest in the loft had me wondering if he was a handsome tattooed murderer.

  “What uhhm. Why…” I muttered. “I’m lost.”

  “I asked you to come here so I could fuck you.” He nodded toward my waist. “Take off your pants.”

  My nervousness vanished. Now in complete shock, I stared back at him with an open mouth. My face went flush. My mind raced. It had been forever since I’d had sex.

  For. Ever.

  There were several ways I could have perceived his offer. I’m sure there were many women who would tell themselves that they’d say no, slap him, or simply get up and walk away if presented with the same request.

  They could think whatever they wanted. In a real world, I doubt they’d do anything but take off their pants. It was an opportunity to have sex with someone I would leave the lights on for, and those opportunities were infrequent.

  My sexual vault was filled with vivid recollections of beer bellies, bad teeth, eight-dollar haircuts, and dicks that were thicker than they were long.

  Sex on a stick was mostly lean muscle, had nice teeth, and was well-manicured. I decided there was only one way to find out about what still remained a mystery. His confident nature led me to believe his maker didn’t cheat him when he traveled down the dick aisle of the assembly line.

  I hopped off the stool and unbuttoned my pants. “I’m not doing this for you.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?”

  “It’s been a bad year,” I said. “A really bad year. I’m doing this for me.”

  “Believe me. I damned sure didn’t come to your office with this in mind.” He reached for his belt. “But that ferocious little ass of yours convinced me to change directions.”

  I was flattered, but I wasn’t sure if I should be. “Ferocious?”

  “That’s right.” He unbuttoned his jeans. “Ferocious.”

  I should have been naked already, but in typical girl fashion, I needed to know if ferocious was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Is that good?” I asked. “Ferocious?”

  “Good enough that I’m where I shouldn’t be, doing something I shouldn’t be doing with someone I shouldn’t be doing it with.”

  It was way too many shouldn’ts. I hesitated. “You’re not married, are you?”

  He scowled. “No.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  He glared. “Fuck no.”

  “You’re single?”

  “Now, and always,” he said adamantly.

  It was all I needed to hear.

  My pants hit the floor. My shirt quickly followed. As I struggled to unclasp my bra, he lowered his jeans and boxer shorts in one shove.

  Holy mother of fuck.

  The mystery was no longer a mystery.

  I stared at it in awe. The word penis never came to mind. Sex on a stick was packing a full-fledged cock. While he bent down and unlaced his boots, I tossed my bra into the apartment’s abyss.

  I slipped my hand between my legs and made sure my pussy was as ready as my mind was.

  Soaked.

  I raised my glistening index finger and grinned. “I’m good to go.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said. “If it’s not good enough to eat, it’s not good enough to fuck.”

  “You want to…” I swallowed heavily. “You want to lick my pussy?”

  “That’s right.” He set his boots at the end of the bar and then gestured toward island’s countertop. “Hop up there.”

  It was like Christmas way before Christmas: In less than one week, I’d landed a great job, and the sexiest man I’d ever seen wanted to fuck me. There was only one catch.

  He wanted to eat my pussy first.

  I jumped onto the countertop with cat-like precision and spread my legs so wide I was afraid I’d dislocate a hip.

  I propped my head in my hand and gave my best sultry look. “Anything else?”

  Still wearing his tee shirt, he leaned over the edge of the counter, winked at me, and then buried his face between my legs. At first, his beard tickled my inner thighs, but the distraction didn’t last long.

  As soon as his tongue flicked against my hyper-sensitive clit, I closed my eyes and prayed he liked it.

  If he didn’t, he was sure doing a good job of faking it.

  He alternated between sucking my clit and licking my pussy while he fingered me. He said he was an entrepreneur, but I began to question his claim. I decided that he was secretly a porn star. If he wasn’t, he should consider a career change.

  There was so much going on between my legs that my brain couldn’t decide what to do with the signals.

  I focused on the feeling that came when he flicked his tongue against my clit. The sensation shot from my throbbing nub to my brain like a jolt of electricity, bringing with it a wave of emotion each time it happened.

  In no time, I’d melted into a puddle of sexual bliss. My mind was floating somewhere off in heaven, and my legs were shaking uncontrollably. Be it due to his skill, his handsome looks – or a combination of both – I had no idea.

  I opened my eyes.

  Seeing him feast on my crotch like a starved wolf only complicated matters. The tingling sensation worsened. My entire body began to quake.

  He must have sensed it, because he looked up and met my gaze. After making eye contact, he went right back to eating my pussy like a tattooed boss.

  A few more strokes from his talented tongue later, and my clit began to buzz like a bee. Certain I was going to die from the orgasm that followed, I relaxed and embraced my impending death. If I was going to die on my first day at work, this was the way I wanted it to happen.

  The orgasm shot through me like a rocket. My muscles tensed. As it escaped me, I let out a wail like I was being murdered.

  “Holy fucking…Oh. My. God,” I murmured.

  I clenched his head with my thighs and prayed that he stop.

  But he didn’t.

  I shuttered. I shook. I came. And then, I came again. And, again. The
room spun. My eyesight blurred. My ears rang.

  When everything settled down, he was standing in front of me with a raging hard on. As perfect as he looked wearing nothing but a tee shirt, being fucked was the last thing on my to-do list. I needed time to recover, and a few moments wasn’t going to be enough.

  A week was more like it.

  “Well? What did you think?” I whispered.

  He wiped his beard with his palm. “You got a great little pussy.”

  “Really?”

  He reached for my ankles and gently pulled me off the edge of the countertop. I stood on shaking legs, uncertain how long I could continue to do so without collapsing.

  He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the bar. Naturally, I flattened my hands against the counter to steady myself. He must have seen it as his cue, because he pushed against the center of my back and forced my boobs onto the cold granite surface.

  Then, without warning, he shoved his cock in me.

  All. Of. It.

  “Oh. My God!” I gasped.

  “Holy fuck that feels good,” he said.

  He withdrew himself, and then slowly pushed his entire length back inside.

  I was one and a half strokes into our sexual adventure, and I felt like I’d just completed a gang bang with an NFL football team.

  I’d heard all the phrases like, it’s not the size of the ship, it’s the motion of the ocean. Until that moment, I believed them.

  It was painfully obvious that the women who spouted such untruths had never been fucked by a man with a real dick. If they had, they’d know better than to try and sell such lies to the masses of unknowing women who were willing to listen.

  A man with a big dick will ruin a woman from ever being satisfied by anything normal. I now knew that to be the truth.

  He gripped my waist in his hands and commenced to fuck me like I was paying off a debt.

  The tip of his dick was making me aware that there were areas inside of me that I had no idea existed. His massive girth and unequaled length had him well into unchartered territory, and I was enjoying every thrust that reminded me of it.

  “Fuck yes,” he said through his teeth. “You’ve got a fantastic little cunt.”

  No one had ever said the c-word in my presence and got away with it. In the context he’d used it, however, it took me to an entirely new level of wetness.

  “Thank you,” I said between breaths.

  His hips slapped hard against my ass. “What’s your fucking name, anyway?”

  I realized that in all the excitement, I hadn’t even introduced myself.

  “Andy,” I gasped.

  He pounded his full length into me three more times before he acknowledged my response.

  “Baker,” he said with a laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

  I chuckled to myself at the direction my life had taken. I had a new job, a handsome as hell neighbor, and I was having my brains fucked out by a man I didn’t know in a five thousand dollar a month apartment that was walking distance from the San Diego Bay.

  It beat the hell out of being robbed at gunpoint, losing my job, and being unemployed, that was for sure.

  The sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the empty apartment. A dozen or so strokes later, I felt myself contract. No differently than when he sucked my pussy, I expected the climactic ending was going to make me appear to be mindless.

  I opened my eyes and focused on the feeling of being stretched wider than I’d ever been. I felt his hand against my shoulder. Then, he lifted against it, causing me to arch my back. His warm breath against my neck sent a chill down my spine.

  “Do it,” he breathed into my ear. “Do it, you sexy little bitch.”

  It was all the authorization I needed.

  I came with the force of a tsunami, clenching his cock like a vise as I reached climax. When the waves of pleasure ended, my legs gave out.

  He caught me before I hit the floor.

  “You’re out of shape,” he said. “Because we’re far from done.”

  A sigh shot from my lungs. “Seriously?”

  He simply smiled.

  He fucked me two more times that day, again on the island, and once as we gazed out at the traffic.

  When he finally came, it was all over my tits. I’d never viewed being plastered with cum as sexy, at least not until that afternoon.

  When Baker did it, it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  It may have been the smile that he wore when he was standing in front of me with his cock in his hand. Or the fact that I’d never seen a man come so much. Maybe it was that he let me clean it up with his awesome guitar print socks. Regardless, my first day at work was the best day I’d had in a long, long time.

  He pulled his jeans on and buckled his belt. “Craziest fucking thing I’ve ever done,” he said under his breath.

  “Having sex with a stranger?” I asked.

  “No.” He let out a long breath. “It’s not that.”

  “What, then?”

  “With me living next door to your office, I can’t decide if this was a good idea or a bad one.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said. “I’m not one of those crazy women who’s going to knock on your door. If you want, you’ll never see me again.”

  “That’s the problem.” He said. “I’m afraid I’m far from done fucking you.”

  My life continued to get better and better. I smiled. “That’s okay, too.”

  He chuckled a dry laugh. “If you say so.”

  After he left, I fully expected to fill with regret, but it never came. Instead, I filled with pride, wearing our little sexual adventure like a crown.

  Adventurous?

  Yeah, I’d say I’m adventurous.

  7

  Baker

  Tito scratched the light scruff that peppered his jaw. He held my gaze for an instant, and then lowered his eyes to my desk. His boyish features made it easy to assume he was immature or inexperienced.

  He was neither.

  Although he was in his early thirties, he could easily pass for a high school senior. A true genius and self-taught electrician, he was a wealth of information about everything. His areas of expertise, however, were computer hacking, anything to do with numbers, and the manipulation of high end alarms.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

  He continued to rub his jaw. “Eighty-six percent.”

  I laughed. “Eighty-six, huh?”

  He looked up and nodded. “Eighty-six.”

  Standing off to the side, Cash crossed his arms and then gave Tito a look. “You’re a fucking weirdo. Why not ninety?”

  Tito glared back at him. “Because ninety would be a lie.” He looked at me. “It’s eighty-six,” he said dryly.

  In the few days it took me to recover from having my brains fucked out by my new daytime neighbor, Tito had been researching Pat’s Gold and Diamond Exchange in detail. In his survey of the premises, he learned the alarm system included motion activated cameras and an emergency power supply that automatically energized as soon as electrical power was lost. It was outdated, which made the once state-of-the-art system and easy one to disable. If he was eighty-six percent sure he could manipulate it, I was willing to plan the job.

  I rubbed my hands together. “Eighty-six is good with me.”

  Cash waved in Tito’s direction and then turned away. “Eighty-six is the same as a hundred. He just makes this shit up. This deal’s for sure. I’m telling you. We’re gonna be fucking rich.”

  Tito pushed himself away from my desk and gave Cash a shitty look. “Nothing’s certain, so that gets me to ninety-eight. This place is in a strip mall off of Main Street, and Rainbow has a police force. So, the possibility exists that the town cop gets bored and drives past while I’m trying to kill the alarm and cut the power. Now, we’re at ninety-two. There’s six of us involved. The odds of--”

  Cash turned around. “Why do you do you always do this i
n two percent increments? If you’re so fucking smart, why not one percent? Or a half? Or tenths. Yeah, why not tenths, Mister Brainiac?”

  “No one can guess within one percent. A tenth is ludicrous. If I claimed to be able to, it’d be a lie. You’re the only one in the club who’s prone to tell lies.”

  “Fuck you, Tito.”

  Tito looked Cash up and down. “Truth stings, doesn’t it?”

  Cash’s eyes thinned to slits. “What are you talking about?”

  “Back in May. When you almost shot that girl in the bank and called it an accident. It was the most blatant lie I’ve ever heard.”

  Cash huffed out a heavy sigh. “It was a fucking accident.”

  Tito formed a gun with his fingers. “You had it pointed at her face the entire time she was gathering up the money. Miraculously, when it accidentally went off, you missed her. You can tell Baker whatever you want. I’m not interested in listening to your bullshit, Cash. It wasn’t an accident.”

  Cash alternated glances between Tito and me. “When are we going to find something else to talk about?”

  “It was a fifty-thousand-dollar mistake,” Tito said. “I made an extra ten grand because of your accident. I’ll be talking about it for a long time.”

  “It was an accident, and it was eight months ago.” Cash looked at me. “What day is it?”

  “Seventh, why?”

  “No, not the day of the month. What day of the week? Is it Tuesday?”

  “Monday,” I said.

  He looked at Tito. “I’ll give you until Friday. Mention it after Friday, and you and me are gonna fuckin’ box.”

  Despite Cash being as mean as a snake, if there was anyone who could challenge him and make it a worthwhile fight, it would be Tito. His family had taught Jiu-Jitsu for generations, and he was a master at it. I prayed that Tito mention it during the following week’s Wednesday meeting, just to see them in action.

  “You and I,” Tito said, correcting Cash’s grammar.

  “That’s right.” Oblivious of Tito’s correction, Cash raised his clenched fists. “The two of us.”

  Unamused, Tito tilted his head toward me. “Looks like the town has three cops. One kid with an attitude, and two overweight fuckers in their mid-fifties. Kid appears to work nights. We’ll disable the generator, then cut the power and all communication at the same time. A cell phone jammer will make sure we don’t get a remote alarm.”