Page 17 of Hate to Love You

The only benefit to his bullshit, was I learned a valuable lesson: affairs are messy. And I don’t have time for mess.

A jilted mistress can cause you a lot of embarrassment should they out you to the press. However, in our world, a jilted wife could literally destroy your life simply from how much access they have. And not just to assets or the children, but to information that could put you behind bars.

…Or the grave.

Which is why I don’t fuck with any of it. Commitment. Marriage. Mistresses. I have enough chaos as it is as head of this insanely complicated family filled with over privileged narcissistic nepo-babies that are all borderline psychopaths.

I’m well past borderline though.

Regardless, my siblings keep me busy, as do their affairs.

Especially my sister Polina and her oafish husband Igor, who is always shoving his dick in the nearest soft pouch he can find. In Polina’s case, however, she actually plays an active role in choosing her husband’s mistresses. Knowing my conceited sister, her reasons are selfish, likely wanting to insure none of his “side chicks” steal her precious spotlight. But I could also imagine it’s so that she doesn’t have to subject herself to any of his…sexual preferences.

Actually no, I can’t imagine that. I won’t.

Immediately I put my entire face under the blast of hot water, hoping to wash away that entire train of thought.

No fucking thank you.

However, it’s not as if Polina and Igor are the exception.

This is just how things are done in our…world.

The men do as they please, with whom they please, and unless you’re of high rank like my sister, you don’t get a vote. Hell, you don’t even get an opinion. Our life, and our world, is still lost in an archaic time, and it’s not as if anyone is interested in changing the status quo anytime soon.

That’s not my problem though.

I have more pussy than a guy could ask for and I don’t owe anyone anything. The sluts I fuck know they will never get loyalty from me. After all, I’d have to be insane to give up a fuck-list longer than the Dead Sea Scrolls.

But…then there was The Brunette.

The very thought of her causes an immediate reaction, and I have to reach down and stroke my swelling cock.

I wanted her. From the moment I laid eyes on her the first time we passed in the hallway at our building, I instantly wanted to see her naked, riding me.

Fuck I still do.

Under the warm soothing water, I stroke my erection, taking my time to squeeze the tip between my thumb and index finger, seeing the drops of precum forming.

She had the perfect cleavage, a deliciously thick ass, and was also adorably shorter than most of the girls I fucked.

From seeing her at multiple social events, The Brunette couldn’t be taller than 5’6 even in heels, and as a 6’4 man myself, I was used to the tall stick-thin models who loved to hang on my arm at press events. And while perhaps that’s what some men preferred, and the girls looked good on the cover of whatever tabloid was propping up my face, at the end of the day, not one has ever made my dick this hard.

I wanted a woman with an ass I could bury my face in. All. Night. Long.

I lean against the wall, running my hand up and down my pulsing cock, thinking about pulling her leggings down and stroking her smooth little slit. My heart beats faster as I picture her, laying on her stomach, legs together, with that ass up in the air as I slide into her from behind, burying myself within her, biting her neck, and pulling her hair in my fist.

This is what does it for me, and with a final pump, I cum, exploding all over the shower wall.

I stand there for a moment, catching my breath as the aftershocks shake through my body. And while the release feels amazing, it also suddenly makes me feel a bit unsettled.

How can a woman I’ve never actually spoken to have such an effect on me?

It feels a bit…insane.

Rinsing the rest of my body I turn off the shower and step out, grabbing a towel from off the rack, still thinking about her.

I’d seen her around our building for nearly two years; her and her pencil-dicked husband, that rumor has it, was some trust-fund fuckhead who worked for his daddy’s brokerage firm. Likely because he couldn’t make it in the real world, and his family couldn’t stomach the embarrassment.