The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 3

"You came prepared, huh?" Brian says, unbuckling his jeans.

"I've seen you around. The girls say you're an incredible fuck."

"Legendary."

"Modest as well."

He grins. "It's a virtue drummed into me by all the people who tell me I'm an incredible fuck."

He isn't wearing any underwear either and his ready cock springs to attention. The stockroom is dark, and so he feels for her wet pussy with two of his fingers. She's open and horny as hell. His black Gucci shirt is already undone. He slips out a condom from his back pocket and rips the foil with his teeth.

He positions his cock at her hungry wet hole. He always pauses for a moment before his entry. Pausing to savor yet another conquest - easy though it may be.

He rams himself into her pussy hole unapologetically.

"Arrrrh!" she shrieks.

He knows he has a large cock and his first stab is always received with cries of simultaneous pleasure and pain. As a lover, he has never been gentle. He has always claimed his sex partners with a ruthless drive to satisfy both his considerable carnal desires and theirs. His hips - slender and exuberant from many hours of gym training - possess the Olympic athlete's ability to move extremely hard and fast. So hard that he literally pounds the blonde's buttocks into the crate.

She groans and writhes with ecstasy. His fucking intensifies. He has plenty of energy and an ability to last for a long time, if his schedule warrants. His rhythm is all his own. Like a master violinist who knows all the strokes - when to go fast, when to go slow, which angles to hit, when to lift the woman's buttocks higher - he instinctively maneuvers his way into each smoldering wet passage.

"Oh God," she whimpers, "you're so, so good."

He's grunting with each thrust. "I know."

She's too winded to laugh but she manages a chortle. "Your arrogance is astounding."

"But everyone forgives me anyway because I'm so hot." He grins. Caleb's words hurl back at him: You're the most narcissistic, arrogant best friend a man can ever have.

He seizes her breasts and rocks himself so hard against her that the crate inches forward. And forward. His fingers and thumbs scissor and tweak her nipples until she's crying out so loud that he's certain someone will walk into the stockroom to see what the commotion is all about.

He makes sure she comes several times before he allows his own pleasure to spill over. It's a rule he has. Always make sure the woman is pleasured before he is. Her screams punctuate the room and the blood is roaring too furiously in his own ears for him to hear her properly.

Panting, he withdraws his cock and peels off the condom. The blonde is strewn over the crate like a rag doll, too fatigued to pick herself up. He zips his pants and buttons up his shirt again, not saying anything.

She stirs. Her skirt is still hiked up to her waist and her bare buttocks and pussy glisten with her juices.

"I'll give you my number," she says. "Call me and we can do this again."

"Thanks but no thanks. I don't do encores." He's aware that he sounds awfully blunt, but in his experience, it's kinder to let them down brutally and fast rather than to prolong something he knows he's not going to reciprocate.

She hesitates a long time as she slowly staggers to her feet to dress. "Yeah, they said that about you too, but I refused to believe it." She does not meet his eyes.

He knows what she's thinking. He's not clueless. They said that about you but I refused to believe it ... because I thought I'd be the one to change you ... the one that you'd fuck more than once.

"Later," he promises. He doesn't miss a beat as he turns to walk out of the room.

In the next room, a poker game is going on. Spying Caleb, he goes in.

"What're doing, Cal?" he asks.

"Sssssh."

Caleb is at a table of five players. The dealer deals two cards facedown to each player. Brian sits back to watch. They are playing the Texas Hold'em variant of poker, with the dealer exposing five community cards which can be used by the players for the best five card combination utilizing two of their own cards.

It's the final round of betting. The fifth community card, called the river card, has been dealt.

"Raise," Caleb says, pushing two hundred dollars to the pile of money in the center of the table.

The man to his left sneaks a look at his two facedown cards. He grimaces.

"Fold," he says.

"Fold," says another man.

Caleb is left playing against a thin black man with a sparse moustache. The black man has a tic in his left eye, Brian observes. He wonders how that tic figures in bluffing.