Chapter 4

KRISTEN

After June's surprising request for me to leave her room so she could lock it, I lingered at the sitting room's window, closely watching her as she talked with Mark.

I don't know where the conversation tilted to that made Mark lift the hem of his shirt, but it did not sit well with me. I couldn't help but imagine what it was they were talking about that could warrant a lifting of the shirt. It doesn't seem right at all.

I slowly opened the front door, monitoring the way June sighed as she stared at his abdomen. Was he showing my niece his dick?!

What the hell is going on there?

Anger poured into every inch of my body as I stood on the front porch, a visible scowl on my handsome features.

Talking about handsome, I have always been termed sexy, good-looking, and even beautiful! With natural red hair which I regularly dye black, and noticeable green eyes set below long lashes, I easily grab attention—especially of the opposite sex. I have been told to let the natural colour of my hair be, but red is not a colour I love.

Mark's car had still not moved an inch.

Each second made me grow agitated. What does he want with June anyway? His father was my professor back in college, and we were only able to set eyes on each other again after coincidentally moving into the same neighbourhood. That was how I even knew he had a son.

I folded my hands and tilted my neck down a bit to see what they were doing. My eyes clashed with Mark's. He said something to June that made her look my way.

With a sigh, she palmed her face. I saw her lips move again, and it sounded like she was telling him to quickly leave.

With long strides, I approached the car, my eyes narrowed on Mark. Before I made up to five steps, the engine revved to life.

"Stop that car!" I thundered. From the window on June's side, I saw him looking at her, silently asking if he should wait or just zoom off. June was indecisive, and that allowed me to run forward and bang on the bonnet.

"Jesus Christ, Uncle!" June shrieked from within the car, her eyes wide in surprise. Mark was forced to kill the engine. I went to his side of the car and motioned for the glass to be rolled down.

"Good morning, sir," he said as soon as our eyes met. His smile didn't seem sincere in any way. In fact, his smile seemed like that of a kidnapper or crazy psycho, or was it just my instincts? They have known each other for 19 years—if I am not mistaken—and they have been good friends right from the first day.

"Good morning, Mark," I answered with a smile to match his. My eyes drifted to June's. "Sorry, I scared you, doll. The engine was kind of loud and I had to draw his attention." She exhaled in relief and swallowed.

"Of course."

"Mark, how is the Prof? Still loves reading on his favourite couch in the evening?"

Mark scoffed and grabbed onto the steering. Even though the engine was dead, I leaned on the window with my head peeking in just to prevent the car from zooming off. "You saw him some days ago, and you know he still has that habit."

"Changes can be made in a day, even in an hour... make that a minute." I can tell June is either pissed or bored. "I just wanted to check on things since it seemed the car wasn't moving." The lie jumped into my head at the last minute accompanied by another lie to support it. "I thought the car had broken down."

"Nah, nothing of such."

"Good." I looked at June again. "Doll, you okay?"

"Of course. I'm fine," she said in a way that asked why she shouldn't be okay. "We will be late if we don't leave now."

Trying not to look suspicious in any way, I stole a glance at Mark's shirt. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And his belt was firmly in place, secured, even the hook of his trousers did not look tampered with.

Good!

"Y'all should drive safe. And dude, be careful." It was more like a warning, and I felt like Mark got the message.

I stood on the sidewalk and watched the car zoom off.

A sudden fatigue overshadowed me. Drinking alcohol to sleep the previous night was already taking its toll on me. It's a good thing I am the CEO of an entertainment company. I can easily call Edith or any of my workers and inform them that I won't be with them today.

With that mindset, I went back to the sitting room and plopped on a couch.

Just a little rest will make me feel less fatigued, and will also prevent my mind from wandering towards unholy thoughts.

Closing my eyes did not help. Even before I closed them, images flashed before my imagination which resulted in hot blood rushing into my groin.

I grunted.

My trouser became tight and I had to unzip it to grant freedom to my erect cock.

As I grabbed my shaft and started a very slow jerk to the tip, I realized how much I needed a release, and why I needed it.

I have never been interrupted in the middle of 'my private time' as I like to call it, and June's interruption yesterday not only deprived me of getting to the finish line but also killed my arousal.

I looked at my cock, noting the fountain of precum gathered on the tip and how it glistened like the moisture on my abdomen. The sun wouldn't be merciful in any way from what I could feel. Heat or not, I had to take care of myself.

I considered touching myself, but that would not be exciting, and I might end up not satisfied—I learned this from experience.

My thoughts did not stop my right hand from stroking up and down the length of my cock, and my left hand from holding up my shirt to prevent it from rolling down and interrupting my movement.

I threw my head back and grunted as my palm met with the tip of my dick, the precum making my jerks slick.

It would be so much better if there was a naked woman on her knees in between my thighs with my cock down her throat, or deep in her pussy.

At that point, something—or rather, someone—came to my remembrance. With my dick dangling out of the fly, I raced to my room and opened the closet.

I tried to remember what I wore on that fateful day. It was a Tuesday evening, and work was so stressful that I had to stop at a whore house to pick a lady. To cut a long story short, there was so much sexual chemistry between us—and a good tip I gave her—that she left me her number on a piece of paper I tucked into my front pocket.

I rushed through my trousers, reaching into each of the pockets and digging them out. A pair of black trousers caught my attention. I rushed for it.

Just as I thought, there was something in the front pocket, a washed paper that seemed to have seen better days.

There was a phone number written on it in bright blue ink, almost invisible. I straightened out the edges and grabbed my phone. Going out to look for a woman with a boner would only give me names, and waiting till evening wasn't an option because I could die before then. Touching myself would be like pouring fuel on the fire.

So I did what I thought was best: place a call to the... sex worker.

She answered on the third ring.

"Hello." Her voice sounded exactly as I remembered even though at that time it was mostly moans.

"Hey, erm... Brenda?"

"Yes. Who's speaking?"

I hate this. "It's Kristen." I almost slapped myself after my introduction. How was she going to remember one of her customers from just a name? "It's... Mr Hardcore."

"Ooohhhh!" she purred. I could almost see the smile on her face. "I don't think I remember you introducing yourself as Kristen. Lovely name by the way."

Of course... I had refused to tell her my name and she unanimously decided to give me a name from how ferocious I am in bed. After her services—which were top-notch—I told her my name and asked for hers. That was when she gave me her number. Never did I think I would need it...

"Thank you. Are you busy?"

"If you're asking for my help, I'm not," she said, pure lust lacing every word.

"Yes, I need your help. And fast. How soon can you come to my place?"

"Text me your address."

"Alright, see you soon."

With relief, I texted her the address and raced to my bedroom to clear the bed.

Pouring myself a glass of whiskey came next. With a raging hard-on, I paced the house, waiting and looking out of the window every second.

Heaven helps those who practice celibacy. Like, how do people keep up with that shit?

Fuck, I need a release!

It must have been thirty minutes later when I heard a knock. I almost sprained my ankles running to get to the door.

Just as I thought, Brenda was on the front porch and... I raised my brows in questioning...

When I invited Brenda, I did not expect her to come with someone else, and definitely not with the lady I fucked in an alley some days ago. It's funny how I remember their faces despite the way I patronize a different one each day.

Brenda leaned forward on her toes and kissed my cheek, "hey, handsome."

"Hey." I ushered them in. "I didn't know you'll be coming with a friend," I gestured towards the woman she came with.

"Oh, pay no heed to Alicia. She only begged to tag along because... well, she couldn't resist the sight of you. I talked about you after our session the other time."

"Hey, beautiful," I said to the other lady. "Alicia, right?"

She pushed her petite hand for a handshake. I kissed her knuckles like a gentleman. Gentle will not be remembered when I fuck her, or when my dick is down her throat.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Hardcore," she shyly smiled.

I chuckled. The name—and a little spice in her voice—went straight to my groin, tenting my trouser. Brenda's eyes went there.