Chapter Nineteen

I can't dance like Gen did and be all sexy, but I can sure as hell make it work for her. Or I think I can, given how she's eyeing me like she could eat me up.

She's as alluring as ever, wearing an emerald-green dress that I reckon is her own version of comfortable. It brings out the red in her hair and the freckles scattered on her creamy skin. I can't wait to get her out of it. But first…

Taking my time, I lift my sweater, gradually revealing more and more of my stomach and tattoos. Her eyes follow the nonchalant display, her teeth planted in the plumpness of her bottom lip. Maybe I'm flexing a little to appear even more muscular than I am, but she's the one who asked for a show.

Once it's off, I throw the sweater next to her on the bed, and she reaches out for it, fisting the soft fabric with her delicate hand while her eyes never leave me. I'm just as slow when I unbuckle my belt and pull it out of the loops of my jeans. It falls on the floor, and she presses her knees together. And when I unbutton my jeans and unhurriedly slide the zipper down, her eyes darken.

Turns out I don't need to do anything to turn her on. The anticipation is doing the trick on its own.

I bend over to remove my socks and then slide the denim down my legs. Once I'm left with nothing but my underwear—a pair of black boxer briefs—I cross my arms and wait, holding back a smile as I look down at her. I'm hard as steel in there, my cock stretching the fabric. I'm sure she can see the outline of the piercings and all.

"Everything," she demands.

"Tits for tats, love. Remove your dress."

She considers arguing, but the dress will have to come off at some point, so she undoes the zipper on her side. She doesn't remove it seductively, but damn, I don't care. Not when she reveals the ivory lingerie she's wearing underneath it. And beneath that, her taut pink nipples and auburn curls. Fuck, this woman is sin incarnate.

Because I'm a man of my word, I tug down my underwear until it falls at my feet and kick it away.

"What now?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes remain glued on my hard and thick cock for a moment, arrogantly angled up. Then she rises from the mattress, standing beside me, and presses a hand on my chest.

"Now, you lie on the bed."

She gives me a gentle push, and I comply with an amused grin, lying in the middle of it. Maybe I should relinquish control during sex more often because I genuinely love this. Especially when she joins me, crawling on her hands and knees until she's straddling me. When the drenched lace of her thong comes to rest on the underside of my cock, I don't fight the urge to bring her even closer, fingers digging into her hips.

Holding back a growl, I ask again, "And now?"

"Now, Jacob Clarke, I finally get to taste you." She seals her declaration with a deep and ardent kiss.

I'm not ready to let go when she pulls away, but I don't have time to reclaim her lips before they drop to my jaw. With fervent intensity, she lays pecks everywhere she can reach, teasing me with her tongue's wet and warm touch. Like the little minx she is, she takes her time, languidly exploring my neck and chest. When she reaches my nipple, she nips at the piercing there, tugging it with her teeth until the pain makes me groan. Satisfied with herself, she lets go and returns to her exploration of my torso.

When, finally, she reaches my cock, I'm throbbing and aching, dying to bury myself in her warmth for some comfort. But because she's decided to drive me mad, she purposefully ignores it.

"Red, what are you doing?"

"Having fun."

"This isn't fun. Stop torturing me, Genevieve."

"Not so nice being on the other side, is it?"

"If you think I was tormenting you before, you're not ready for the next time I'm in charge."

The sweet threat seems to work because her soft lips come to press a lingering kiss right on the head of my cock. Then, she uses the tip of her tongue to play with the end of the piercing, rolling it around the small steel ball. An intense and pleasurable jolt travels down my length, making it twitch. A few drops of precum seep from the tip to land on my stomach, and she greedily licks them.

"Fucking hell, red."

She looks up, her beautiful face framed by wavy red hair, her blue eyes sparkling with promises of more agony to come. The day she realizes how much power she has over me, she'll become my doom. Right now, I'd give anything just to feel her mouth around me.

Her small hand grabs the base of my cock to set it perpendicular to my stomach, and she gives it a wet kiss right on the tip. When she takes it into her mouth, I clench my jaw, struggling to control myself.

"Careful with your teeth," I warn.

"I know the basic rules of giving blowjobs, Jacob."

"I meant with the piercings. Don't hurt yourself."

She looks down again, assessing this new information. Her fingers hold each side of the apadravya, and she slightly tugs, triggering more jolts. "I can remove them if you prefer," I suggest.

She shakes her head. "No, I want to try it this way."

Then, like the greedy little woman she is, she engulfs more of my cock in her mouth. I'm still trying to recover from that when she pulls away, her plump lips dragging against the skin and piercings, and then she dives in again, taking more. I endure it, whimpering when she sucks in her cheeks, grunting when she runs her tongue on the underside, and when she takes my balls to cradle them, I curse.

Fuck, she really knows the basics of giving head.

My fingers knead through her hair as I gather it to clear the view. The sight of my dick pumping into her mouth is otherworldly, and when she looks up to stare at me while she does it, my cock jolts.

Despite my desire to let her go at her own pace, I can't help but press a little on her head in earnest. She tries to comply, but the piercing reaching the back of her throat and tongue stops her. She's determined though, and before I can even say something, she adjusts to a better angle. That seems to do the trick because now she can take over half of me. And every time she lowers, her hungry little tongue sticks out to reach even further.

When she pulls away to breathe, a string of spit stretches between her and me. She catches it with her hand and spreads everything on my length, coating my cock with wetness. Then she returns to the sucking, fucking the base with her soft palm and fingers while her hot mouth handles the rest. Fucking hell, how does she feel so right?

Her technique is good but not stellar—I've been given head in the past by women who took the entirety of me, women who sucked harder, women who apparently didn't value breathing as much as making me come. But Gen's efforts are testing my limits, forcing me to hold back so I don't fill her throat with cum. Maybe it's her flushed face, the redness of her abused lips, the soft moans that vibrate against my cock…

As always, there's something about her that goes beyond my understanding.

The hand fondling my balls leaves, and when I look down, I see that she's using it to touch herself, rolling her fingertips over her clit. My body tenses, pleasure building dangerously fast inside me, and I decide I can't indulge more.

"Alright, enough of this," I groan, pulling her away from my cock.

Her eyes are round with surprise when I handle her to lay her down on the bed. "Did I-did I do something wrong?" she worriedly asks.

"Are you kidding? You were about to make me come, red. I can't let that happen."

Her reassured smile goes straight into my chest. "Why?"

"Because tonight, I want every drop of my cum to be in your pussy."

That brings even more pinkness to her cheeks, and her ears are red like they get when she's overly flustered. "What if I want to swallow it?"

It's my turn to be dazed, tempted to take her up on her offer. After a few seconds, I reply, "Another time."

In three seconds, I have her out of her sexy lingerie. Her limbs wrap themselves around me when I cover her with my body, and we end up grinding and writhing onto one another. Under my cock, her folds are sopping wet as I rub onto them.

"You liked that a little too much, didn't you?" I groan into our kiss.

"Yes."

"I can feel it. You're such a naughty girl, red. You were getting off on it. On sucking my thick cock." My words make her whimper, shivering under me. "And now you want it inside you. You want me to fuck you raw and fill you up."

"Jake, please."

"Please, what? Please, fuck me? Please, make me come? Please, fill my pussy with cum?"

"All of them! I want all of them."

There's something in her voice, the desperation, the impatience, that makes me lose my restraint. Without using my hands, I align myself with her greedy slit and ram into her with one merciless thrust.

She cries out my name and arches below me, her nails clawing at my back. Fuck, she feels fantastic. So warm, tight, and drenched. In theory, I could fuck her for hours because this feels like heaven. In practice, I'll nut before things can even start.

"This is what you wanted?" I grunt in her ear, already pumping in and out of her. She nods, her mouth too busy with sweet moans. "You feel so fucking good, red. You feel like paradise wrapped in soaked silk.

"Y-you were wrong," she lets out between two hiccups of pleasure.

"How so?"

"You said condoms didn't get in the way of the piercings, but—Oh God!"

"You feel them better now?" I ask. She nods, pulling me closer with her hands gripping my bum. "You feel them dragging against your walls?" Another confirmation, muffled by a helpless cry.

Only God fucking knows how I manage to hold back, but I make her come in a few minutes while containing myself. She becomes even creamier, and the sensation of her walls pulsing and squeezing triggers some urgency in me. Because a position switch is always a good idea to help with stamina, I pull out, flip her around, and slam into her from behind.

Time becomes irrelevant, and I lose the notion of it entirely. The only things that matter are her moans and cries, the slaps of my hips on her arse, the soft pleas she whimpers… I fuck her like a madman, like my life depends on it. And when I feel that she's close again, when I sense the spasms and the tension in her, I pull her up from her elbows and press her onto my torso. Her head rolls back on my shoulder, her face a mask of pure lust.

"I'll come with you this time, red," I warn.

"Aah, yes."

"I'll give you everything I have. Will you take it?"

"Yes! All of it."

"And will you keep it, love? Will you keep it all inside you, like the greedy woman you are?"

"Jake, please."

"Say you'll keep my cum inside you, Gen."

"I will! I'll keep it!"

That's all I need to hear, so I send a hand between her legs, where my cock is still ramming inside her with intensity. I can feel how wet she is, the inside of her upper thighs glistening with it. Under my fingertips, her clit is swollen and pulsing, so sensitive that she cries out at the first graze. Within seconds, she's coming undone, moaning my name and shaking with bliss. This time, I'm too far gone to resist her spasmodic tightening.

I climax with a roar, white-hot jets shooting inside her, coating her walls, filling her up with all the desire and passion I hold. Every time I think I'm done, another rope of cum spurts out, and I don't think I've ever emptied my balls this much before. This is, without a doubt, the most satisfying nut I've ever experienced.

We're both panting and sweaty by the time it all ends, our limbs heavy, our bodies limp. My cock's still encased in her, her hips seated on me as I'm sat back on my heels.

"Fucking hell," I mutter.

"I think you mean heaven."

I chuckle, which rips an ultimate moan out of her.

We stay like that for a moment, my hands coursing over the flat surface of her stomach, cupping her breasts, or running along her thighs. Her skin is the softest thing I've ever been graced to touch, and I don't think I'll ever get my fill of it. When I've recovered enough to move, I press a kiss on her temple.

"I'm going to pull out," I warn. "Remember your promise, Gen."

I grab her arse and lift her up, my semi-limp dick slipping out of her. Almost immediately, the mess we made drips back onto me. But I'm quick to reach between her legs and fix it. Dragging my fingers over her inner thighs, I scoop what's seeping out of her and shove it right back inside, entering her with two thick knuckles.

"You said you'd keep me inside you," I remind her when she moans.

"But you came too much."

"Still, you promised." I gather more cum, stuffing it back into her messy cunt. However, as soon as my fingers come out, more of it leaks out. So I do it again and again.

This little game is more entertaining than it should be, especially since I can feel how much she enjoys it. "What am I going to do with you, Genevieve?" I ask while pushing more of it in, feigning a graveness I'm not feeling. "Do you know what bad girls who don't keep their promises get?"

Her walls clench around my finger, which only pushes more of it out. "I'm trying," she whimpers.

"Not hard enough."

I don't really know what I expected out of this other than teasing her, but I'm definitely not ready when she grabs my hand and brings it to her mouth. I watch, mesmerized, as she takes my cum-coated fingers between her lips and sucks them clean.

"That counts as inside me, right?" she asks, meeting my eyes with her hooded ones.

It really fucking does. Kudos to her for thinking outside the box.

When I return my hand between her thighs and gather more of it, she avidly repeats the gesture, feasting on the taste of our climaxes mixed together.

"See?" I taunt her. "You did get to swallow it."

I grow envious after a few back and forths of this, so I ram two fingers inside her, scoop as much of our mess as I can, and instead of her mouth, I bring it to mine.

Fuck, we taste good. I'm familiar with her sweet saltiness, her sleek texture, and the flavor that's uniquely hers. I'm also aware of the taste of my own cum, although I haven't experienced it in a minute. But the two of us together is the taste of perfect sin.

How the fuck am I supposed to give that up once the time comes?

Gen's apartment is exactly what I'd expectof an Upper East Side lawyer who comes from generational wealth. It's tastefully decorated, vast, sleek, and has a fantastic view over the city and Central Park. It looks like the perfect home one might see in magazines. But it doesn't feel like a home. I'm not seeing her, no personal touches, no pictures…

There's something sterile to it, which doesn't match her intrepid personality.

I have nothing to say about the kitchen, though. It's very well-equipped, and preparing breakfast before heading out has been a delight. I'm done with the omelet when Gen arrives in the living space, adjusting her blouse into her skirt.

"I can't believe I'm going to be late," she anxiously mutters.

She's busy pinning pearl earrings on when she reaches the kitchen. Her eyes widen when she sees everything I cooked. "Jake, you didn't have to do all this. I don't even have time for breakfast."

"You can't start your day on an empty stomach, love. Not after that."

Her cheeks flush to a mild pink. "It was a lot, wasn't it?"

"Waking up to someone eating you out was on your list."

"The rest wasn't, though."

True, but what can I say? I fucking love watching my cum seep out of her overworked pussy. It's like a work of art, really, with her folds glistening from her own orgasm while mine runs down, white against pink, all the way to her puckered little arsehole.

Shit, just thinking about it makes me swell in my jeans.

I give her a proud grin. "No, I improvised the rest. But stop acting like I'm the one at fault here. I vividly remember you begging for it."

After a brief silence, she eyes the gargantuan breakfast I cooked for us. I can tell she's tempted, but the prospect of being late holds her back.

"I can drop you off if you want," I offer. "You can have my helmet and gloves."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"It can be. But I'm a careful driver—especially with a precious package on board."

Her lips purse in a failed attempt to hide how much she enjoys the compliment. "If we crash and I die, I'll come back and haunt you forever," she warns.

I slip a hand around her waist and pull her closer. "You promise?"

"I'll poltergeist the crap out of you."

A chuckle pours out of me as I bend to claim her lips and seal the deal. She better return and haunt me because I'm not done with her yet.

"Come on, love. Let's eat."

With a resigned sigh, she gives in and sits on a high stool. I set a plate with an avocado toast before her and one where I'll sit. Then, I cut the omelet in two and give us a slice each. I've already poured orange juice into two glasses, which I add to the counter. The coffee seems to be done brewing, so I take the pot off the state-of-the-art machine and settle it between us.

"You're really good at this," she appreciatively says.

"I started cooking for myself at an early age, so my mum had less work to do at home. Turns out I enjoy eating well, so I got good at it."

"It looks delicious." She doesn't wait any longer to dig in, bringing the avocado toast to her lips. The raspy little moan she lets out brings a crooked smile to my lips. "It is delicious."

"It's just avocado on bread, love." Although, I did come through with the seasoning, cherry tomatoes, smoked salmon, and all.

The omelet gets the same reaction, and only then do I allow myself to eat. "Do you have any big plans for the rest of the week?" I ask.

"Yeah, I have this thing on Friday evening."

My brows come together at her answer. I thought we were seeing each other on Friday. "What thing?"

"I'm heading down to Brooklyn for my bi-weekly dicking appointment," she says with an impish smirk.

That cheeky little…

"Well then, I'll be sure to keep my evening free."

"Perfect. I'm actually busy on Saturday, though. Just so you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's Hana's birthday. Since she was pregnant last time, she wants us to go overboard this year."

"I take it you mean getting hammered?"

"Mhm. It's also her last birthday in her twenties, and she's terrified of entering the next decade."

"Thirties are great," I say.

"It's not the same for a woman." She chews on her piece of omelet, takes a sip of orange juice, and meets my eyes inquisitively. "How old are you, by the way?"

"Thirty-two. You?"

"Almost twenty-seven."

"Your birthday is coming up?"

"On the ninth."

"Any plans?"

"I will be out of town for it, visiting my parents."

"I didn't realize you were a close-knit family."

"We're not," she mumbles, taking another bite of toast.

I can tell there's more to it, but I don't push her. Family matters can be delicate, and her mood doesn't deserve to be ruined to satisfy my curiosity.

It seems I don't need to ask, because she voluntarily continues with, "My sister died on the day we turned seventeen. So we don't celebrate it as a birthday anymore. We commemorate her instead."

Fuck, that is heavy. I reach for her hand, wrapping mine over it. "I'm sorry to hear that, love. It must have been tough."

"It was. And this year marks a decade, so it's a lot."

"So you haven't celebrated your birthday in ten years?"

She shrugs, removing her hand from under mine to grab her mug of coffee. "It's fine. I'm used to it."

It's the saddest part, really. She shouldn't be discarded on a day that also belongs to her, but I don't point it out. When her hand is free again, I grab it once more and bring it to my lips to lay a kiss on its back. "If you feel like celebrating it this year, give me a call, yeah? I'll worship you all day like you deserve."

The somber expression on her face fades slightly. "Don't I deserve to be worshiped every day of the year?"

I chuckle. "You do. Let's say I'll worship you even more on your birthday, then. Does that sound alright to you, Miss Kensington?"

She bends closer, bringing her lips near mine. "It sounds very alright to me, Mr. Clarke."

Our kiss tastes like coffee, avocado, and her. Just for that latter flavor, I'd linger there and keep doing it until we can't physically continue. But she's late for work as it is, so I force myself to pull away after granting her one last peck.

Following our breakfast together, she returns to her room to rearrange her hair for the helmet. In the meantime, I load the dishwasher and take care of the utensils in the sink. When she comes back with a low bun, I consider suggesting she changes her shoes as well. But I've seen women manage with stilettos, so I hold back. The same goes for her skirt. I like the idea of her bare legs wrapped around me too much to have her put on a pair of pants.

I'll be extra careful.

Minutes later, she's got her handbag, I have my stuff, and we're outside on the street. The morning concierge looked at me sideways when we passed, like the one from yesterday. Clearly, her world isn't used to people like me. I'm sure they never side-eyed her prissy ex like that.

My bike isn't far from the entrance, and I guide us to it. Gen scans it with uncertainty, a pout pursing her lips together. "It looks fast."

"It can be. But I promise we'll go slow."

"So far, your slow has been anyone else's light speed, Jake. Yamaha is a good brand, right?"

"Yeah, ‘their products are reputedly qualitative,'" I tease, remembering the contract.

When I approach with the helmet, she still seems distressed. "Come on, love. I won't let anything happen to you," I promise, leaning in to give her lips a reassuring peck.

I slip the helmet on her, and she allows me, gulping hard. "Have you ever had an accident?"

"Not in a while. And it was nothing major." I clip the strap below her chin and adjust it. "Nothing will happen to you, sweetheart."

Although I can't see her face anymore, her gestures are more assertive when I hand her the gloves. While she puts them on, I slip the key in the ignition.

"Shoot," she mutters behind the visor.

"What?"

"I should have worn pants."

Thank fuck she looks down and doesn't see my grin. "Probably, yeah. Too late for that though."

I hop onto the bike, kick the stand back, balance it, and hit the red start button. The engine roars below me, and Gen takes a step back, intimidated.

"Come on, love. I'll help you up."

I offer her a solid hand and do my best to assist her as she climbs behind me. Once she's on, I help her put her feet in the rests. Her slim hands come around me, and I feel her front plaster itself against my back as she holds on tightly to me. I stifle a small laugh, amused by her apprehension. Does she not trust me?

"Is there anything special I should do?" she asks, adjusting herself.

"All you have to do is hang on to me and follow my gestures. You weigh nothing compared to me or the bike, so you won't pose a balance problem."

She nods. "Good, okay."

"Are you ready, red?" I ask, twisting to the side. Her helmet-covered head tilts up and down. "Alright, then."

Before we're off, I give her forearms a gentle caress, a last attempt to appease her. Seconds later, we're making our way through the streets of the Upper East Side.

The traffic is heavy, given the hour, but I carefully drive through it, earning precious minutes that'll make her arrive earlier than if she took a cab. Her legs are pressed against my sides, and every time we take a turn, they squeeze me into their embrace, just like her arms. But I can feel her relax after a few minutes, which is good.

Halfway through it, I give in to the temptation at a red light and reach down to graze at her delicate ankle, appreciating the smoothness of her skin. My fingertips dance around it for a moment, and I swear I can feel her shiver. I'm just starting to trail my hand up when the traffic light turns green, and we're off again.

From then on, I use every opportunity to touch her, caressing her all the way to the hem of her skirt, which is bunched high on her thigh. This is a lot more enjoyable than when I'm with Eli. The fact that I'm half hard confirms that.

Much too soon for my tastes, we arrive at the NexaCorp building, its paved front swarming with people. They all look as serious and professional as Gen, their suits an array of grays and blacks. I turn the engine off, set the side stand, and help her slip off the seat. Once she's safely planted on solid ground again, I get off.

"So, how was that, love? Did I scare you?"

"No, it was fine," she approves, embarrassingly pulling her skirt down. "You were very good at distracting me away from my fears."

"Happy to serve."

I unclasp the helmet while she removes the gloves. When it comes off, revealing her beautiful face, I realize I might have a problem. In the few minutes it took us to get here, I missed those cornflower eyes and caramel freckles.

I slip on the helmet while she rearranges her skirt and blazer, and then she looks up at me. With a push on the button by my chin, I lift the modular front so she can see me rather than the visor.

"Thank you for the ride. And the breakfast. And the night."

"And the wake-up sex?" I tease.

As I expected, a blush spreads on her nose and cheekbones. "Yes, that too. I'll see you on Friday?"

"You know where to find me," I say with a wink.

She gives me a small smile, nods, and squares her shoulders before spinning around and walking off to her building's entrance. I lean onto the bike, ready to look at her until she disappears, but she surprises me by swiftly turning around. With short but quick steps, she hurriedly returns to me. Still confused about what's happening, my body reacts before my brain can, and when she comes right against me, I wrap an arm around her waist and lower to grant her the kiss she demands.

It's not exactly easy with the helmet, but she still manages to slip a bold tongue past my parted lips, her hands clutching my sweater to pull me closer. I'm good to do this all fucking day long, but she eventually shoves herself away from me with a sigh. Her cheeks are now red, her lips wet, and her eyes glimmery.

"See you on Friday," she asserts, right before giving me one last firm and intense peck.

Just like that, she's off again, and I watch her sway her perky little bum all the way to the massive revolving door of the building. It's only when she disappears behind it that I regain my senses.

A chuckle pours out of me, and my head shakes, amazed at how she constantly manages to surprise me. I'll take her to work every single day if I get paid in kisses like these.

I feel like a fucking idiot on my way back to Brooklyn, grinning like a twat. Thankfully, people can't see it, so to them, I'm still some imposing bloke with tattoos on a monster of a bike. Not a smiling moron.

Once I arrive at The Parlour, I park the bike on the underground level and head straight to my office. I'm late as hell, and I have things to handle. I pass the door to it and jump slightly, startled by the familiar voice that comes from the couch.

"You didn't come home last night, you little slut," Eli says with amusement.

"Fuck off."

"Were you with Gen again?"

"Yes."

"How's she doing? Did she say hi to me? Does she miss me?"

"Eli, it's ten in the morning. How the fuck do you have so much energy already?"

"Some of us didn't spend the night having sex."

"Because some of us can't," I retort.

"Ouch, touché. Anyhow, how's Gen? It's the fourth time you're seeing her now, right?"

"Sixth."

"Are things getting serious, then?" he wonders, closely studying my face.

"No, we're just fucking."

His eyes squint dubiously. "Yeah, right. When was the last time you were ‘just fucking' with the same woman more than twice?"

"Why are you all up my arse this morning?"

"No reason in particular. Grubsy and I talked about it last night, and we're happy to see you evolve."

"I'm not evolving, Elijah. We're fucking. That's it."

"Sure, sure. By the way, remember that hot model from the Court a couple of months ago? I think she came from Slovenia?"

"What about her?"

"I saw her yesterday. She's back in town for a photoshoot, and you made an impression because she asked about you."

I clench my teeth, aware that I have to tread carefully. "What did you do about it?"

"She's coming in five minutes. Told her you could probably squeeze in a quickie in your busy schedule—before her shoot."

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

We wage a silent battle there for a moment, our eyes locked into one another's, waiting to see who'll break first. Eli is a goofball, and he's terrible at lying. Right now though, I legitimately can't tell if he's pulling my leg. Part of me knows where he's going with this, and as much as I want that information to remain private, I know he'll eventually find out.

Resigned, I let out a grunt. "I'm not fucking anyone other than Gen."

"Why?"

"We're exclusive."

He explodes with satisfaction, smacking his hands together and pointing at me. "Ah-ha! I knew it! ‘We're just fucking,' my ass! You two are getting serious!"

"We're not. This is just so we don't have to use protection."

"Right, how eco-friendly of you. Saving the sea turtles one condom at a time. Is there a Nobel Prize for saving the environment? I'll submit your name for it."

"You don't have to be such a twat, Eli. We both work too hard for a relationship, and that's it. Besides, we're literally worlds apart. There can't be anything serious between us."

"Bullshit. This isn't the nineteenth century anymore. Class doesn't have to separate people."

To that, I reply nothing. He wouldn't understand, no matter what I'd say. Gen and I have a good dynamic in the sheets, and I enjoy her company out of them as well. But we're severely mismatched and don't have enough free time to sustain a healthy relationship. I know where I stand, even though I'm growing fonder of her every time we meet. There are no delusions in my head that this might lead to some epic love story, to a life together with kids, and all that shit.

Minutes pass, and Eli stays on the couch, looking at me with judgment. "Will you stay here all day?" I groan.

"I don't know. Will you be a stubborn dick all day?"

I glare at him, unimpressed by his attempt at getting a confession out of me. There's nothing to confess, so he's wasting his time.

With dry and angered gestures, I open the cabinet below my desk and take out my iPad. "Enjoy the couch, mate," I tell him, standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"The roof."

I'm already in the hallway when he shouts, "Jake, you're being a fucking coward about this!"

But I'm not. I'm being realistic. Gen's a great woman, but I'm not her type—the opposite, in fact. We're just having fun, and when we're done with it, she'll find someone from her world—hopefully not her fucking ex—and she'll lead a perfect little life.

In no scenario am I the man she chooses for anything other than some naked fun.

I might have clawed my way out of the gutter, but I still reek of it. To people like her, I'm inconceivable.

And it's probably better that way.