Sully

I have the presence of mind to put our leftovers in the refrigerator by the door, but just barely. That orgasm made me even crazier for her than I already was, and I need more. She asked for more, and I want her to know she’s going to get whatever she asks for.

I suit up with the condom I have in my wallet, while letting Beckham know what I need her to do. “Take your panties off for me.”

She looks confused for a moment, because I’m across the room, pulling my jeans a little closed, but she’ll understand everything in less than a minute. I walk over, and cup her face with my hands, before kissing her. I feel her hands moving, doing what I asked. I step away, and hold out my hand, waiting to move again until she gives me the scrap of black lace.

Once it’s securely in my pocket, I lift her up, hands under her ass, and slide my way home. She moans as I enter her tight little pussy, wrapping her legs around my waist. After adjusting her giant sweatshirt, I whisper in her ear.

“Grab your desserts, Beautiful.”

“What?” she asks, her eyes glazed. I’m not unaffected myself, but I know what I want, and it’s not a quick fuck in a theater room.

I nuzzle her neck, sucking lightly. “We’re going to a bed, but I know you don’t want to give up your desserts.”

“Oh, but we’re having sex right now.”

“I’m inside you now, and it’s fucking amazing, but you deserve a bed. I couldn’t wait to feel you around my cock, so yeah, we’re technically already having sex, but I won’t come until we’re in my bed.”

“We have to walk past the guards.”

“We’re covered, so all they’ll know is that I’m carrying you upstairs.”

“You’re sure?”

“No, but I imagine they’ve seen much more scandalous things, and I’ll have my hands under your ass, making sure your dress is covering you. I promise you, no one is seeing anything they shouldn’t.”

She nods, and reaches for her plate. Once her arms are securely around my neck, I walk us out. She shudders against me as I walk, almost bringing me to my knees. My cock is moving in and out as I walk, driving us both crazy. It’s just a couple of inches of movement, but with how tight she is, it feels like more. She’s biting my shoulder to contain her moans, and I’m dizzy with lust by the time we make it to the elevators.

“This is unexpected.”

I turn to see Matt and Reina walking up to us. Beckham stiffens, and buries her head in my neck. Fuck.

“Hey, how was the latest gala?” I ask, because Reina’s in a gown, and Matt’s in a tux.

“Boring as fuck.”

“Life of the 1%,” I respond with a smirk.

I’m honestly afraid my dick is going to soften, and slide out, but it’s not happening. He’s happy to be encased inside Beckham’s warm pussy, and he’s holding strong. So strong, I need to thrust. Not an option at the moment, but I still need it.

“Hello, Beckham.”

“Hi, Reina” she mumbles into my neck.

“Just keep it professional at work,” Matt says, shaking his head at me.

“We will,” she tells him, still not raising her head.

They take pity on her, and wait for another elevator as we board ours. When the doors close, she sighs. I can’t interpret the meaning, but I know she’s embarrassed.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! The damn button from your jeans keeps rubbing over my clit, and I almost came in front of my boss!”

Oh. Well, then. “Like this?” I ask, rolling my hips, so the button moves against her again.

“Yes,” she moans. “Stop.”

“Stop?”

“If you make me drop these desserts, I am not going to be happy.”

I laugh, because this woman. She’s seriously thinking of her dessert plate while I’m bringing her close to orgasm. I do as she asks, and stay still until I have to walk out of the elevator.

Once we’re inside my place, I bend so she can put the plate down. She kisses me hard as I walk to my bed, but I pull away to pull her dress off. She’s left only in a small black, lace bra.

“They’re small,” she says, moving to cover her breasts.

“I love them,” I reply batting her hands away as I lean down to suck on one through the lace.

“Sully. I’m so close.”

“I know.”

I crawl up the bed with her in my arms, before setting her down, and giving her the fuck we both need. Her feet are still in the sexy boots, digging into the mattress as I pull her hips up and thrust hard. I hold her hips as she runs her hands up under my shirt, scratching my abs with her short nails.

“It’s so good.”

“Yeah, it is. Clamp that pussy on my cock. Just like that.”

My thumbs find her clit, and both work it over as I fuck into her. She starts to scream, clamping down so tight on me, I have no choice but to come with her as she flies. I’m rough, and out of control, unable to stop myself, because it feels better than anything I’ve ever felt.

“You’re going to have bruises on your hips. I’m sorry,” I tell her as I collapse onto my forearms over her.

“I’m not. That was worth it. God, it was worth it. How long until we can do it again?”

I chuckle, but know it’s going to be a little while, and not because I can’t get it back up. My dick’s already starting to come back to life, but it will have to wait. I pull out, and stand up.

“I have to shower, and go out for a little bit, but I’ll be back.”

“What?”

“I’ll be back. I promise. Please wait for me.”

“I could help you shower.”

“No.”

I know I sound harsh, but she can’t take a shower with me before prayer. I need to clean her off me, before I can give my last thanks of the day. I should explain it to her before I go, but I want to get back to her, and wrap her in my arms before I sleep, so I leave her there on my bed.

* * *

Beckham

I don’t know what just happened. I never expected Sully to get up, and leave, after what we just did. He just left me here. Yeah, he asked to me to wait for him, but if he can’t at least explain to me why he’s leaving, why would I stay?

I wait for the shower to turn off, but he doesn’t appear again. His apartment has a similar design to mine, so I know there’s an office or library on the other side of the bathroom. After a few minutes, I hear the front door open and close, letting me know he exited from the other room. He didn’t even want to see me before he left for parts unknown, just expecting me to wait for him in his bed.

No. I am not that girl. I will not be left waiting in a man’s bed, while he goes off somewhere. Nope, not happening.

He still has my panties, but I throw my dress on over my bra, and walk next door. Once inside, I change into a t-shirt and boxers, wash off the little makeup I have on, and get ready for bed. I’m turning off the lights in my living room, when there’s a knock at the door. I know who it is, and I don’t feel like fighting right now, but I open it anyway.

“I asked you to wait.”

“I’m not a dog, who takes orders on command,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. “You don’t get to leave me in your bed, like some random chick, and walk out the door to God knows where. Did you really expect me to wait for you?”

“I had to pray.”

Oh. I uncross my arms, but I’m still angry. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I thought, after what we shared, you’d wait. I was going to explain when I got back,” he says as I step back to let him into the apartment. I grab the plate of desserts from his hand, and move to my kitchen island.

“You made me feel like what we shared was nothing. All you had to say was that you were praying. Do you think I wouldn’t understand? I don’t know much, but I know prayer is important to Muslims.”

“It is most important,” he agrees, joining me as I take a seat at the island.

“I love watching all of you at work pray together. It’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

He nods, taking my hand. “We pray five times a day, always facing toward Mecca, which is why I had to go to the roof right now. I love this apartment, but the balcony doesn’t face in that direction. I could pray inside, but I prefer to be outside.

“Salaat is the name for our prayers, or Salaah, but I call them Salaat. Fajr is a remembrance of Allah, taking place before the sun rises. Dhuhr is the prayer at work. It is always around noon. We remember, and also seek guidance. ‘Asr is just a few minutes in the late afternoon. We think about the greater meaning our lives, along with our remembrance. Maghrib is the evening remembrance after the sun goes down. Finally, before bed, is ‘Isha. It is when we thank Allah for all he has done for us, and for forgiving us any wrongdoings we’ve committed.”

“You have to shower before each?” There are showers at C&C, so I know he can.

“No, not always a shower. Ablution is making ourselves clean of mind in preparation of Salaat. We also perform Wudoo, and Wudhu. Those are the names for the action of cleansing, and the water itself. I wash my hands, arms, mouth, nose, face, ears, and feet. Matt has an area outside for us with purified water, so we can cleanse ourselves at work. Because I orgasmed with you tonight, I had to perform Ghusul, and cleanse my entire body with a shower.”

“I wish you’d told me that was why I couldn’t shower with you.”

“I should have. I just learned not to talk about it when we moved to the U.S. People see me, and they are afraid, so I’ve done what I could to blend in, and not tell anyone about my faith.”

It hurts me to know this. I knew it went on, but it was never this close to me. “I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but I know what it is to hide. I’ve hidden my whole life, pretending not to want friends, because I wouldn’t be able to buy them a present if they invited me to a party. My parents are the best, and they did what they could for me, but I grew up with next to nothing. This apartment is like a palace to me.”

“You take nothing for granted, while I coped by taking everything for granted. I used Matt’s money and power to fit in.”

“Your sister needed that money and power. I remember how horrible everyone was to her when her relationship with Dylan Gallagher became public knowledge.”

He shakes his head. “My sister didn’t need it. She has never tried to hide behind it. It meant a lot to her for Dylan to speak out, and stand by her side, but she would never pretend to be anything else than who she is.”

“I want to know about your culture, about your customs. I want to know everything about you, Sully.”

“I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“I’m going to take you up on that, but right now, I’m pretty dead, so I think we should sleep. Can I ask more tomorrow?”

“You can ask whenever you want.”

There’s one last thing I want to tell him. Or ask. It’s more tell than ask, but here goes. “I’d like to observe the rest of Ramadan with you. Can I? Is it okay to start late?”

“Yes. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but for me, I say yes. It would mean a lot to me. Thank you.”

I kiss him lightly in reply, because I want to do this for him—and for me. I’m not going to convert, because I was raised Christian, and I believe in Jesus, but I want to know Sully, and his religion is a big part of who he is, even if he’s hidden it. You don’t commit to praying five times a day, and fasting for a month, if it isn’t important to you. I need to know it all, so I can understand how to support him. Tonight wasn’t a one-time thing, and when I need to stand up for him, I want to get it right.