I’d never really been hung up on a girl before.

Especially not one like her.

I’d beaten off to the thought of her so many times it felt like I’d fucked her every day since the day I met her. The feeling of being inside her tight ass was imprinted on me, and I couldn’t get through a single fucking day without touching myself just for her.

Not that I had anything fucking else to do, anyway.

The job I was supposed to do, the one I was in her neighborhood for, fell through. Even though I bailed, I later found out the guy I was supposed to meet there never even fucking showed up. Figures.

The next two weeks of my life were kind of fucking terrible.

After a few days, I realized I had to fuck someone else to make myself forget. It was obvious I’d never get to see her again. Not after those murderous looks from her man, or whoever the hell he was. I was lucky I’d gotten out of there alive. Not that I couldn’t have taken him, but I assumed a guy like that, in such a powerful financial position could have easily ruined me – or worse.

I went out to a bar. Several nights in a row.

I had girls hit on me, girls dance with me, girls grind on me.

But nothing fucking worked.

Not one of them got me off, not one of them got me hard. It was fucking excruciating. The only way for me to come was picturing the girl, with her tight little ass, and her ridiculous get-up. Her pretty face with tears streaming down her cheeks, and her palms leaving prints on those windows.

I was fucking whipped, and it made me fucking furious.

I tried to find out more about her. I knew all about him. It was the first thing I did when I got home that night, look up the bastard who’d stolen her from me. Because after what I’d done to her, I should’ve been the one to put her back together. Not her sorry-ass piece of shit boyfriend.

I didn’t know what their story was, and I didn’t really care either. All that mattered was that in the end, the girl would choose me. Just like they always did.

Finding out who he was proved to be easy enough. Not that it helped, because he kept his affairs private.

Hayden Seth King. Pictures of him showed a beautiful woman on his arm, a different one every single time. Galas, events, gallery openings, business shit. A different chick each fucking time. All of them fucking stunning, all of them younger, but none as young as the one he had now.

I envied the guy. Really fucking envied him. He wasn’t like me. He was a self-made man, a man who made his own fortune. And I’d squandered mine away.

Over the course of the next week, I became slightly obsessed with this King character.

He was fucking impressive. Owned half of town, and all three holes I wanted for myself. His apartment was worth millions. His company was worth several times that. I wondered if the girl knew about that.

I briefly considered showing up on their doorstep. I even lingered in the neighborhood a few times. I looked up at the sky-high building and wondered whether I should just go the fuck up there and tell the guy I wanted her, and he’d just have to fucking deal with it.

I even tried to do it once. But the piece of shit doorman I’d flipped off the last time I was there took great pleasure in throwing me out on my ass.

I lingered some more. Neither of them ever left the building. So either they were away, or holed up in that damn apartment. I couldn’t get to her that way. So I’d have to make her come to me.

There was no trace of the girl in his social media, no trace in the gossip websites that wrote about him. She was a nobody. And since I didn’t even know her name, I couldn’t really track her down.

By the time the second week had passed, I was really antsy. I wanted her. I wanted to get over this obsession for a silly little girl that wasn’t supposed to mean shit to me. Even though I woke up every night, the sound of her sobbing so fresh in my mind I could almost feel her body convulsing under mine.

And then my phone finally fucking rang.

Unknown number, and somehow, I just knew.

I picked up and didn’t say a word. I could practically feel his anger through the line.

“You remember?” he barked.

“Yes,” I replied. I grinned to myself as I lit a cigarette. “Hard to fucking forget.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said. “You need to come back.”

“For her?” I took a long drag of the cigarette. Fuck. Yes. “I’d be happy to do that. Are you going to watch again?”

If he was into some cuckolding shit, I’d let him watch, just because I wanted her so badly. Though it would make me want to fucking kill him, knowing he was the one that got to take her to bed at night, and I was just there because of my dick and what it did to her tight little ass.

“No,” he hissed. “She wants us both.”

“Both?” I grimaced. “I’m not fucking into that, man.”

“And you think I am?” he asked, and I chuckled.

“Well, fuck,” I replied. “You want to do it?”

“No,” he said. “I fucking don’t. But I don’t really have a fucking choice.”

“Tough luck.” I stubbed out my cigarette, running a hand through my hair. “When?”

“Tomorrow. Midnight. Same place.” His voice was strained and I felt more than a little smug knowing he had to call me, had to ask me to come fuck his girl again.

“What’s her name?” What a stupid fucking question. There were so many other things I had to know. Like if I’d get to fuck her ass again. If he’d make me wear a damn rubber. If I’d get to fuck her alone anytime soon.

“Pet,” he bit out, and I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know about you but I refer to women by their actual fucking names unless I’m fucking them.”

“Then it shouldn’t matter,” he told me. “Since you’ll only be fucking her.”

I seethed with anger. “I want to know her name.”

He didn’t respond for a while, but when he did, his voice sounded defeated.

“It’s Sapphire.”

“She a fucking porn star?” I asked, laughing.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped. “Tomorrow. Midnight. And if you don’t do as I say, I’m cutting your balls off and feeding them to you.”

He cut the line and I laughed at my phone.

Twenty-four hours. A day until I’d be inside her again. Only one day until my head would feel blissfully empty, just like last time.

* * *

I felt like a moron going into the building again.

If the doorman said a single thing to me this time around, I’d punch him. I hyped myself up to do it, until I was so angry my fingers shook.

But when I came into the lobby, a different guy sat there. He gave me a look, but nodded in greeting, and I felt pissed I didn’t get to take my anger out on anyone.

I took the elevator to the top floor and enjoyed the sensation of déja-vu.

Standing in front of their door was awkward. But not as awkward as ringing the bell and having him open the door.

We glared at each other. I wished she’d opened the door for me.

It was like a fucking competition with this guy. And I was desperate to beat him.

He was wearing a shirt, pressed and ironed to perfection. And slacks. And dress shoes.

I was wearing a band shirt and my oldest pair of jeans. And Converse.

“Where is she?” I asked him.

He stepped aside, even though I could tell every cell in his body was shouting at him not to do it. I followed him inside.

No fucking sign of her. My cock ached to be inside her.

“Do you want a drink?” King asked me, and I glared at him.

“Do I look like I need a drink?” I asked him.

“I don’t really give a shit,” he said. “But I’m having one, so if you want one too, feel free.”

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, leaving the bottle on the table.

He stood next to the windows facing the street and stared down.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Thirty-two,” I replied, walking to his bar and rummaging through the bottles just to fucking piss him off. “This all you got?”

“You’re thirty-two?” he asked, giving me a doubtful look. “You dress like a teenager.”

“You dress like a fucking old geezer,” I told him. “Appropriate, I guess. You’re what, fifty?”

He stared and I laughed to relieve the tension.

“Calm down, jackass,” I told him. “Can I have this?”

I raised a bottle of rum at him, and he shrugged. “Whatever. Glasses are in the–”

He stared at me incredulously as I drank from the bottle.

“Are you fucking serious?” he asked me, and I grinned at him.

“Get off your high horse, old man,” I told him.

“You’re eight years younger than me,” he said. “She’s fourteen years younger than you.”

“She’s eighteen?” I stared at him, taking another swig from the bottle. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

We didn’t look at each other as we drank. Not enough to get me hammered, just enough to loosen up the nerves I never knew I had.

“I need to see her,” I said, and he bit back something he was gonna say.

“Yeah,” he said, setting his glass down. “Come with me.”

I put the bottle of rum on the bar and followed him. Playroom again. I wondered where she slept when he wasn’t using her in there. If they shared a bedroom, or if he made her sleep alone. He seemed like a possessive fucker, so I was pretty sure he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

He reached for a key in his pocket and slid it in the lock.

“You had to lock her inside?” I asked him with my eyebrows raised. “She that eager to see me?”

He left the key in the lock and grabbed my shirt, pulling me close. I stared him down.

“You’re here because she wants you here,” he hissed. “Not me. Never me. And if you do one thing that pisses me off… One thing to upset Pet.”

“Sapphire,” I said, and he nearly growled in my face.

“Don’t fucking push it, boy. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

I swallowed any Hulk remarks that came to mind and gave him an angelic smile.

“If you don’t get your hands off me,” I said. “I’m gonna find it hard to believe you didn’t want me here.”

He let go of me disgustedly and I laughed as he opened the door. My heart was fucking pounding as we walked inside.

The room was dark, but he switched the light on, illuminating the space in a soft glow. Almost like candlelight.

The girl, Sapphire, was sitting on the bed.

Her ankles were tied together, and so were her wrists. She was wearing a blindfold. A black lacy one.

When she heard us walk in she whimpered so loudly I could feel it in my balls.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself.

She was naked, except for the scrap of lace across her eyes.

Her hair.

Her hair was somehow purple.

She looked like a fairy or some shit. Really tiny on that bed, with that long hair falling over her tits. She didn’t have heels on this time. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted a pastel pink color. It was oddly endearing.

I took a step towards her, but King intercepted me, a heavy hand on my forearm.

“You remember one fucking thing, kid,” he said with a grim expression. “She’s fucking mine.”

I stared back at him.

“Let’s let Sapphire decide who she belongs to,” I said, and she gasped in response.