Brimstone Series Book 2 Episode 7: The Penthouse

**Stacey**

There was nothing separating the cool air from my naked skin, but I felt like I was lying next to a blasting furnace, his body warming me, the skin on skin contact allowing me to steal from his endless heat.

Grateful for his massive height, I nudged my head underneath Chris’ chin, a position I was never able to comfortably accomplish with Todd, his five-nine unable to host my five-eleven. Add on the fact that he worked with wood in his spare time, Chris’ substantial frame seemed fit on a lumberjack more than lawyer. I inhaled in his scent of pine and masculinity, the aromas turning my thoughts primal, causing my thighs to squeeze together in want.

My hands grasped firmly on his throbbing cock, twisting and pulling in long, unhurried motions, my saliva reducing the friction between my palm and his unit. It felt hot and *heavy* in my hands, and while I’ve had my share of genital encounters, this was the first time I was actually intimidated by an erection.

Intimidated, but more so intrigued.

With my fingers wrapped around it’s impressive girth, my thumb and middle finger were barely making contact. The stretch was also surprising, its head reaching past his waistline as I held it up against his stomach, each downward stroke a lengthy journey. By any standard, he was massive, and a hot flush ran up my neck at the thought of being taken by him, of being tested by his enormous organ.

‘I’m close angel,’ he grunted. ‘I’m really close.

‘Yeah?’ I said in my most sultry voice. ‘Well, you’ll have to wait a little longer Chris.’ Taking my hands out of his underwear, I gave him a reeling smirk.

‘What the hell,’ he mumbled in a startled tone, irritation creeping in. ‘You’re leaving me with blue balls?’

I threw him an apologetic frown. It was unfortunate, but necessary. I wanted the real thing, and I needed to make it happen before talking myself out of it, so I couldn’t wait days or a week for this illness to run its course. I wanted him now, and this was the only way I was sure I’d get him to agree in my current, weakened state.

The truth was that I felt quite badly about doing it, but I couldn’t deny myself what I’ve craved for so long. ‘Abigail could be back any minute now,’ I replied, stroking his arm.

‘I was ten seconds away from finishing,’ he complained, pressing his dissatisfied erection into my side. ‘Twenty seconds, tops!’

I bit the side of his neck, a clipped groan coming from his lips. In a low whisper I said, ‘Then bring me back to your place and take what’s yours.’

A choked exhale blew from his throat, then followed by silence. He blinked slowly and pursed his lips, breathing through his nose. He was thinking with his head, though I wanted him to be using his cock as the map instead.

‘We shouldn’t. Not today, not when you’re like this,’ he said lowly, sounding like a forced reply, and I could tell he wasn’t telling me how he really felt. ‘I should go, there’s work to be done at the firm.’

But as if his body was frozen in disagreement with his mind, he didn’t leave. He waited, and that was message enough, no matter what his lips spoke.

Slowly, I slid my hand downwards, finding his member over top his briefs, and grasped firmly without stroking, enjoying the flash of lust in his eyes reignite once more. Then, as quickly as I found him, I released my grip, and the light in his eyes turned dark.

Somehow, that darkness turned me on.

‘Stacey,’ he warned lowly, almost predatory-like. ‘Stop fucking around.’

‘Take me home Chris,’ I whispered, coasting my palm up his shaft once more.

A sigh followed from him. One of resignation. One of victory for me. He stared into my eyes and his voice was sure and brooding. ‘Don’t expect me to go easy on you because you’re sick. When I’m taking your body past its limit, remember that you were the one who asked for it.’

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

___________________________________

**Christopher**

The convenience store smelled of stale tobacco and cat urine, but all that fell second chair to the unstoppable lust I felt for the woman standing behind me.

Ife’s Korner Store was the closest place to my apartment that sold condoms. Also, I liked the guy, so I popped in whenever I wanted bad hot dogs or cold pizza. Apparently, his condom selection was good too, but I never had the need to know that.

‘Chreese, long time,’ he said in his Jamaican accent, flashing his yellow teeth.

‘Ife, yes it’s been a while. Get some better American food and maybe you’ll see me more,’ I replied, placing the box of condoms on the counter and secretly hoping he would hurry up.

With cornrows down to his chest and a rainbow beanie capping his head, Ife was the epitome of an immigrant who never assimilated to western culture. His store even loop-played Jamaican songs that were so heavily accented I could never understand what they were saying, but the person singing always sounded happy and sunny.

‘Ay, ‘ave some bah-nah-nah chips,’ he smiled, adding the bag of dried fruit onto my order without confirmation. ‘Bettah than you crap American food.’

I laughed. His random upsells were the main reason I came; I discovered new foods every time.

‘Deese you girlfriend?’ he asked, pointing to Stacey behind me. I opened my mouth but was unsure of what to say. Glancing back, I saw that she was completely oblivious to us, consumed by something on her phone. ‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘She is.’

That was a stretch, but it felt good saying that in front of someone, even if it was only Ife.

To claim her as *mine*.

His smiled widened, and he blinked at me – after all the years I’ve known Ife, he still hasn’t realized that a wink only required the closing of one eye. ‘She a leetle young for you yeah? Notta bad old man.’

Cat got my tongue, I stood there with my condoms and banana chips, mouth slightly ajar. ‘Ay you know I don’t give a change,’ he said as he smiled at another customer behind me. ‘Go now Chreese. Bye bye.’

‘Yeah, good seeing you too Ife,’ I chuckled nervously, turning around, and saw that Stacey was still absorbed by her phone, texting away. I frowned. Jacob, Steve, and post-Abigail Luke were all the same, obsessed with their devices. It was a habit that I could never understand.

For me, a phone was meant for business calls and emergency Internet use. Otherwise, it became a complete time sink. Also, it was something that wasn’t available to me as a kid. My generation didn’t grow up with cellphones like Stacey’s did.

*My generation.*

Fuck, Ife was right. I thought that Abigail was too young for Luke at first, but Stacey was the same age as Abigail and I’m three years my brother’s senior. Nine years separated us.

Nearly a whole decade.

Shaking my head free of insecure thoughts, I walked up behind her, and brought out my hand to tap her shoulder. However, I hesitated, noticing the last message she sent from her phone.

**Stacey:** I’m telling you for the last time, I don’t want to see you.

While the screen turned off before I could see the recipient, there wasn’t a bone in my body that didn’t tell me whom it was for. I’d bet my firm it.

Damon.

That fucker. If I could get away with murder, he’s at the top of my list.

‘Done here,’ I murmured, tapping her lightly on the shoulder and issuing a forced smile. I wasn’t happy with her either; though she turned him down, she was pretty invested in the conversation herself, almost as if he meant something to her.

She didn’t miss a step, glancing down at the box of extra large Magnums in my hands. ‘You sure you aren’t out of your league?’ she teased, biting her lip and lifting a brow.

‘Oh I’m sure,’ I said confidently. ‘If anything, I’m shortchanging myself.’

‘Right,’ she smiled, slipping a hand behind my back and I took her in, resting my arm across her shoulders. ‘And you opted for the thirty-six pack . . . either I’m not the only one you’re bedding or you’re extremely optimistic about the future champ.’

‘Forecast looks fantastic,’ I grinned. ‘Won’t be long until I’m back to resupply.’ She laughed. It was a tired laugh, one that signaled that she needed rest. That she needed a bed.

And unfortunately for Damon, that bed would be mine.

_______________________________________________

**Christopher**

The roads were unpopulated this time of day, work-goers already set in location and taxi drivers taking their first meals.

The Escalade’s cabin was charged full of expectation, and at the same time a quietness, the growls of the 6.2 liter V8 claiming dominance. The silence was not one of tension but of ease, both of us feeling that forced conversation as unnecessary, perhaps afraid it might sap the magic in the air.

She was leaned back to the chair’s maximum tolerance in the passenger seat beside me, eyes closed, her gentle breaths nearly visible in the chilly morning temperament.

On top of her torso laid my peat jacket, as well as a throw blanket that we took from her place. She argued with me about needing it, that mouth as fiery as her hair, but I was glad I insisted as I stole glances her way, knowing she was warm.

‘I like this car,’ the words slipping out of her semi-closed lips, eyes still closed. ‘It’s roomy.’

‘It’s tall too,’ I said quietly. ‘Main reason I bought it.’

‘Makes me feel normal-sized,’ she breathed. ‘Like Abigail or your sister.’

I scoffed. ‘You look perfect next to me, angel. Just five inches shorter.’

‘Hey now,’ she laughed. ‘Two with the right heels.’

‘And none on your back,’ I grinned, placing my right hand over the hill of her thigh.

‘Mm . . . I never had you as one for dirty talk, *boss*.’ She opened her eyes just to wink at me, seemingly less lethargic suddenly. ‘But really, I love this car. It’s very you – very . . . commanding and powerful.’

‘Is that right?’ I mused, giving her thigh a squeeze and scooting my hand up an inch.

‘Uh-huh,’ she grinned. ‘And generous. So generous that he might consider giving me an early raise?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘You’ll have to do better than that angel,’ I said as I pulled into my building’s underground lot.

She faked a frown, the soft pink flesh of her inner lip exposed as she pouted. ‘Did I also mention that this car is like you in the sense that it’s boring and always in black?’

Laughing, I stopped the car to bite the supple tissue of that pouting lip, and she issued a content purr. ‘That I am,’ I admitted as I backed into my spot.

Reaching out for me, she laid her palm over my crotch. ‘But it’s also *very* long,’ she murmured as she squeezed me once, twice, then a third time.

‘Seats seven,’ I groaned as my eyes rolled back to the whites.

We didn’t take our time, racing past the security officer as he gave me a fishy look before catching my face. ‘Sorry Mr. Brimstone, I didn’t realize it was you at this hour.’

Bowing my head to him, we entered the elevator as two separate people but exited joined, heat radiating off our bodies as we nearly missed the floor. I released her lips and saw fatigue swimming in her eyes, the brightness receding and becoming dim.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ I growled as she began walking down the hallway. Sliding one arm across her upper back, I bent downwards and placed my other hand behind her knees, scooping her up easily. Other than saving her limited energy, it also forced her to hold onto me, the sense of being needed fulfilling something primal in my mind.

‘What happened to not fighting my battles for me?’ she grinned, hands laced around my neck.

‘It’s my fault you’re battling this virus in the first place,’ I mumbled apologetically, placing her down in front of my unit. Pressing her against the door, I reached down to squeeze a firm cheek. ‘But don’t get used to the gentle treatment, angel.’

Without missing a beat, she pushed her ass out, *hard*, onto my groin. ‘I didn’t sign up for gentle, Chris.’

It took my shaky fingers three tries to grab the key card.

_______________________________________

**Stacey**

Something about this condo was different.

Windows everywhere, I could tell that we were high in the air, Manhattan a miniature mixture of roads and people beneath. The walls faced each other across a vast distance, the room open and tall, ceilings twice the height of what I was used to.

I looked up at the building before we entered, remembering how new and *expensive* the whole place looked. But I was sure the floors weren’t this tall, so either I was mistaken or . . .

‘Chris?’ I asked, voice near-quivering. ‘Is this . . . Are we –’

‘In the penthouse?’ he replied, a sheepish smile creasing his eyes. ‘Yes angel, we are.’

‘Why?’ I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

He laced both arms around my torso. ‘Well, because I live here.’

*Live here?*

Brimstone & Associates were doing well, but if it was anything like the place I worked for in Washington, ninety percent of the profits should be going back into the business.

‘Wait, how can you afford this?’ I asked in confusion, shaking my head. ‘You guys haven’t even been in business that long.’

‘Long enough,’ he whispered. ‘And it helps being the managing partner.’

‘Wow,’ I breathed. ‘You’re filthy rich.’

He bit my earlobe, sending chills down my spine. ‘I hope that doesn’t change your perspective of me.’

I pursed my lips. I grew up on a shoestring budget. The four of us were always crammed into one room; sometimes I’d go weeks without being able to wash myself. I remember being so happy having my own bed when I transferred over for college, not understanding why my roommate was always complaining about a stuck window. All she had to do was lift before sliding.

While having a mattress I could call mine was a luxury to me at the time, this took that feeling and amplified it a hundred-fold. I was just a poor Irish girl who wanted a better life for myself and this was *luxury* in every exaggerated sense of the word.

But no matter how flustered I felt at the moment, I couldn’t show it. I wasn’t here because of his money in the first place, and this didn’t change any of that. The last thing I wanted was for him to think that I was more interested in his bank account than his character.

‘Of course not,’ I assured him, spinning around so that our eyes were connecting. ‘It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. Money is just a number, and yours happens to be bigger than most people’s.’

He laughed, showing his straight white teeth. It was an encompassing sound, rich and low, and completely masculine. ‘Are we still talking about money, angel?’

Catching on with my unintended double entendre, I rolled my eyes at his perverted rendition. ‘Actually, I *was*. But I guess it works for both circumstances,’ I grinned, sliding my hand up his covered shaft.

Even through two layers of clothing, touching his member had me biting my teeth in anticipation. The heat radiating off of his area was palpable. Though I was eager to reacquaint myself with that organ, my eyes were busy scanning the room, reading into the interior décor.

Sparsely furnished, the room screamed bachelor. A lone couch separated the kitchen from the massive television hung on the wall, and other than a few wood pieces, the area was otherwise empty, seeming even larger than the generous square footage entailed.

I could do a lot with this canvas.

‘You have beautiful tables,’ I breathed, fighting the impulses beginning at my neck where he latched on with his mouth. ‘Very Pier 9.’

He released me abruptly. ‘Pier 9?’ he scoffed. ‘Please, don’t offend me. The third-rate woods they let pass through their doors wouldn’t last a magnitude 5 earthquake. No, these are handcrafted with tender care by yours truly.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, my surprised voice heightened an octave. ‘I apologize, you’ve have *quality* wood Chris.’

Issuing a booming laugh, he gripped the sides of my pants and pulled me flat against his body, pressing his unaffected hardess into my stomach. ‘You have a dirty, dirty mouth, angel,’ he rumbled into my ear, sending channels of expectant want through me. ‘And I intend to dirty it even further very soon.’

Before I could respond, he pulled my arm towards him and began leading me towards a dark corridor. Suddenly, my head felt fuzzy and heavy, my eyes becoming impossible lazy, a wave of fatigue slamming into me.

Wherever it was we were headed, I hoped there would be a bed.

_________________________________________________________

**Christopher**

The time for verbal foreplay was over. I intended to take her as mine, and now that she was here and willing, there was absolutely nothing stopping me from accomplishing that.

Her wrist felt thin and fragile in my hands as we walked through the dark hallway towards my master bedroom, my long and fast strides setting the pace.

‘Chris, please, slow down,’ she called from behind me, tugging on my hand weakly. ‘We’re practically jogging.’

Realizing my anticipation was consuming me, I slowed down to a gingerly walk. Turning around, I saw that she was having a hard time keeping herself upright, her body swaying from side to side with every step.

She was heavily fatigued, and I was basically dragging her at half-sprint. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were exhausted sooner?’ I growled, scooping her up once again and walking at an angle as to not hit her long frame on the sides of the hallway. Cursing, I recognized I completely forgot about her depleted state as well.

‘I didn’t realize how tired I was until just now,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m fine though, just need a second to sit down.’

‘The hell you are,’ I rebutted. Pushing the door open, I turned her body sideways completely to enter the doorway, and subsequently laid her down on the California King bed. As much as I wanted to rip her yoga pants off and thrust into her, she needed to rest first. Stifling my urges away, I grabbed an extra blanket from my closet and laid it over her, the blue rays from the light atop my saltwater aquarium radiating off her face.

‘Okay, I thought I moved to America to get away from the ocean,’ she grinned, motioning to the tank. ‘Beautiful assortment of fish and coral though.’

I frowned in surprise. ‘It’s kind of my hobby. You know something about corals?’

‘We used to drag up pieces on the fishing boats from time to time. They were already dead,’ she explained quickly when I shot her a judgmental look. ‘Lifeless remains from big-money bottom trawlers.’

‘It’s a horrible practice,’ I grumbled. ‘In any case, you should get some rest. I’ll make you some tea. Earl grey or green?’

‘Earl grey,’ she said absentmindedly as she slid out of the bed and walked right up to the massive tank. ‘Are those clownfish?’ she asked as she pointed to a pair of fish snuggled inside a large anemone.

‘Yes. Maroon clownfish to be exact. They’re one of the bolder species of clowns, and that’s a bubble tip anemone they’re inside. It’s a naturally – ’

‘Symbiotic relationship,’ she finished for me, offering a wide smile.

Without thinking, I smiled back. ‘Yes, symbiotic. Beneficial for both parties.’

‘Hm.’

‘Now back to bed with you,’ I said gently as I placed my hands over her shoulders, and in her reduced state, the slightest pressure was enough to move her entire frame.

‘Just one more minute, Chris,’ she whispered. ‘I just want to see the rest of the fish. I’ll be in bed by the time you get back.’

I sighed. She had yet to understand that under my roof, she would need to follow my orders. With time, she will learn. ‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

I left her staring into the glass as I walked away but before crossing back into the hallway, I turned, stealing another glance at her. With the light creating a halo around her entire body, she really did look like an angel, my preferred nickname for her. Her red locks looked purple under the blue-white rays, which were also poking out from the gap between her thighs.

Blood instantly pumping to my cock, I quickly left the room before I could grab her and toss her on the bed. After making two cups of tea, I made my way back through the corridor. The tea may have been under steeped but I couldn’t resist being apart from her any longer than a few minutes. It was also how long it took me to calm my raging erection.

Thinking of grandma always helped.

‘Okay, Earl grey,’ I said as I entered the room. Thankfully, she was underneath the blankets, eyes closed, already asleep.

Though my balls were tight with need, I was happy that she was finally resting, and set the tea down to watch her sleep. She looked so peaceful, I thought as I caressed the side of her face with my palm.

Her face was hot. Burning hot.

Turning on the lights, I saw that her forehead was littered with beads of sweat, and her face was paler than normal, looking as though she powdered it white.

‘Stacey? Answer me angel, are you alright?’ I called to her as I wiped away her facial perspiration with a tissue, but she was silent, lifeless. ‘Fuck!’

Stuffing myself into a jacket, I wrapped her up in one as well and began carrying her towards the door. She wasn’t okay, and I was going to bring her to a doctor since I wasn’t one.

I was just the asshole who gave her the sickness and then dragged her out of her own bed.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/7yye2j/brimstone_series_book_2_episode_7_the_penthouse