She leaves her window immediately after I cum all over mine.

Fuck.

That’s not what I wanted to happen. That’s not what I wanted her to do at all.

What I wanted her to do was to give up the fucking charade.

I want her. She wants me. I came all over my fucking window for her!

How much clearer of a love letter can I send?

Other than literally coming into an envelope and mailing it to her with my apartment key enclosed, of course. Which, I’m not even ruling out at this point.

Fuck!

This is the opposite of what I wanted. Apparently, coming all over your window for a woman isn’t exactly the way to her heart—and my fucking housekeeper is going to hate me now, too.

The worst part is, I’m not even spent yet. I left a substantial load smeared across the antique panes of glass for the babe in the Bradford, but it’s nothing compared to the load I’ve got left in my balls for her.

I’m horny.

I’m hot.

And remembering the look on her gorgeous face while she watched me come…

That just makes me hard all over again.

I need her. Her, and no one else.

They say actors are just spoiled assholes who need an audience, and in this case, maybe that’s even true. The babe in the Bradford is my audience. And now, I might’ve lost her for good.

I need to think fast—so I do.

Actors aren’t the dumb bastards the media likes to portray us to be.

We’re smart fuckers when we need to be—maybe not book smart, but people smart.

We like to be seen, but we’re also keen observers in our own right.

We’re the mirror that society holds up to itself, reflecting the emotions of the world back at it with a lens flare and a crescendo-ing soundtrack. So when the babe at the Bradford watches me come, I recognize the look on her face.

Fear.

I restrain my cock with the fly of my jeans, slip on some shoes, and grab my keys. I already know her apartment number. I’ve counted the floors up and the windows over.

Now, it’s just a matter of getting there in time.

But when I come to her door and knock, she doesn’t fucking answer.

Shit.

This is on me—I shouldn’t have pushed her. What we had was fucking special, alright? And now I know for a fact that I’ve gone and fucking blown it.

Literally.

But then, I hear a tiny, sexy gasp and the jingle of keys falling to the floor.

“Felix Fitzgerald.”

The most perfect set of lips I’ve ever seen mouths my name from behind me as I turn to greet her with a smile.

“Always good to meet a fan,” I say, smooth as can fucking be.

Then I do the only thing that seems right in the moment.

I unzip my fly and unleash the fucking beast.

“No,” she gasps when she sees my cock. Her pretty little hand presses against her left breast, just over her heart, and her mouth falls open in a blowjob-ready little O.

“Yes,” I tell her. Perfect fucking reaction. “Now, are you gonna get on your knees and suck it already, or am I gonna have to make you?”

It takes an entire second. The longest second that’s ever existed in the history of time.

First, my heart sinks. A flash of hesitation crosses her eyes.

She’s going to say no.

Then, my heart rises like the sun over the New York skyline.

And my cock gets even fucking harder.

She launches herself at me, and my cock is down her tight, hot throat before she can even get out that single, perfect fucking word.

Yes.

I toss my head back, letting my shoulders rest against her door.

This. This is what I’ve fucking wanted. This is what I’ve been posing in front of my window with a stiffy and a disregard for pants all this time for.

It wasn’t the thrill of being seen, as it turns out. It wasn’t even the joy of brainwashing her pretty little head with my perfect fucking cock. It was knowing that someday, her mouth would me mine.

Her mouth…and more.

She sucks me off like she was born for it. Maybe she fucking was. I don’t know what the babe at the Bradford does when she’s not staring at my cock, but I know damn well what her mouth was made for.

Pleasure. Pure and simple.

I’m a handsome man, and she’s a fine-ass woman.

Simplest fucking dynamic in the world.

“God,” I moan, feeling the warmth of her throat clenching around my twelve-inch dick. “Your name, beautiful. Tell me your fucking name.”

She squeezes me out of her throat, a glistening rope of saliva and precum connecting my tip to her lips. It’s like now that we’ve finally come together, our bodies can’t bear to be apart for a single fucking moment.

“Quinn,” she tells me, and my cock fucking throbs in response.

The babe at the Bradford.

Quinn.

“Invite me in,” I command.

I run my thumb across her lower lip, separating my cock from her lips…for now. She sucks my thumb into her mouth instead, and I nearly cum all over her face then and there.

“Invite me in,” I say again. “I want to see what else this sexy fucking body of yours can do.”