Almost… there…
The familiar sensation of a sharp zap of lightning down my spine straight into my dick drew my balls up tightly. Slamming into Clarissa one last time, my hips jerked against hers asmycum spurted out in steady splashes against her insides.
Immediate relief of the pressure that had been building was like a weight lifted off me. A desireacquiredand sated.
The sigh of a man who had found calm in the chaos escaped from deep inside my chest.
I pulled out as I released my hold on her thigh. Giving her space as much as giving it to myself, I stepped back anddidn’tbother to tuck my spent cock into my boxer briefs.
Despite the lingering tremors in my limbs from the exertion, I collected myself. Anything that may have resembled emotion got buried beneath a shroud of professionalism.
As for the blonde I had just fucked until she almostcame, she slumped back against the wall. With trembling fingers, she pulled her scarf from her mouth, leaving it slightly agape as she stared. Her eyes were wide with something that could be either construed as indignation or confusion.
In either case, I didn’t give a fuck.
Reaching out for the scarf, I murmured politely, “Excuse me.” My hands unwrapped the delicate fabric from around her neck and used it to wipe the remnants of her body from my cock.
She watched with something akin to abject horror, especially when I laid the ruined material across her hand, which was frozen in the space in front of her mouth.
Leaving my hand on my freshly wiped dick, I angled myself to stand in front of the nearby urinal. Tipping my head back, I took the most glorious post-fuck piss.
Clarissa’s strangled gasp and sputtering echoed in the small space.
“Fuck, you have no idea how much I needed that,” I said with a hint of gratitude for her participation in it. I tucked my hardware safely away.
Pants zipped back up, shirt tucked in, belt buckled, andmy tiesecured in place. Each action was executed with precision and ease.
Moving past her to the sink to wash up, I checked my collar in the mirror to make sure that there were no dreadful lipstick stains on it.?
By the time I made it to the door of the restroom,Clarissa was finally tugging at her clothes with urgency to return to the pristine doll she projected herself as.
With my hand on the door, I paused to leave her with more thanmycum dripping down her thighs. “Your first payment to my client is due on the first of the month.Don’tbe late.”
Out the door I went, leaving the former Mrs.Hershfordin a state of discord. The very thing I was known for amongst the gods themselves.
CHAPTER THREE
Yesterday was a success.Thefast-food picnic resulted in another tally mark of matches made in… well, a gazebo.
With Valentine’s Day only a few days away, I needed to keep up with the insanity of pairing lovers.
Did you know that roughly six thousand couples head to Splitsville every hour? That’s six thousand opportunities for a rematch for the elusive Double-Tap.
Now, Romewasn’tbuilt in a day. As unfortunate as it was, everlasting lovecouldn’tbe achievedinone holiday or even ten. However, it was the duty bestowed upon me by the gods themselves—including my parents, bless their divine souls.?
The goddess of love and the god of war had raised a soldier of the heart. I took what I did very seriously. Or at least in my own way, I did. What good was being taskedwith guiding two destined lovers together if youcouldn’thave a little fun with it?
Thematch of the day came to me in an unusual manner. Normally,I’dneedthehappy couple to be present in the same place and time. However, these future lifelong lovebirds were one of the few exceptions.
In the digital day and age, long-distance relationships blossomed with connectionsforming overmeaningful discussions—and sexting. Somuch sexting.
Pulling onto the long driveway, I realized that the particular delivery was not to some ordinary home.No, the road ledto something withsomething far more pretentious and picturesque. Even the trees thatlinedthe main drag leading up to the massive abode swayed with unnatural grace, like they owned the wind that rustled their branches.
The rough rumble of my truck’s engine seemed too disruptive for anything that polished-looking. It was as though the sound itself could sully the property’s image of opulence and beauty.
Approaching the residence, itwouldn’tbe difficult to imagine the gorgeous piece of architecture as an estate, a summertime escape for some royal family. Out front was a large marble fountain depicting the goddess of night—born of chaos and known as the mother of negative forces. The Greek statue of Nyx and her chariot was a focal point as crystalline water poured from discreet openings, creating an ethereal appearance.
Itwasn’toftenonechose a primordial goddess as alandscaping statement piece, but who was I to judge?I oncepurchaseda showerhead in the shape of Cerberus’s heads at the local thrift store.?
