Page 16 of Peep

Chapter 9

Anders

Iexit the lift in an aroused haze. I no longer know what’s left and right or up and down. Jahmar has somehow turned off every rational part of my brain except for the hypothalamus. That special part of the brain that controls sleep and arousal—and right now, arousal is at the forefront. I vibrate with desire, and my cock feels hard enough to tear a hole in my trousers.

‘The show starts at midnight.’

Jahmar knows what a sick, twisted pervert I am. Yet, he encourages it and feeds the perverted beast inside me that’s eager to claw its way out.

His perky attitude always made me feel like we were polar opposites, but maybe he’s as tainted as I am. There are secrets hidden behind that dangerous smile, and I see the mask slipping each day. If I surrender to him, will he lay all his secrets bare, too? I’m not sure how much longer I can take this push and pull. Every part of my body wants to succumb to him.

That heated moment in the swimming pool when our cocks glided against one another and my teeth sank into his shoulders was pure bliss, but I freaked when he mentioned stalking. What would’ve happened if I’d stayed? Would we have grinded against each other in the water until we climaxed? The thought sends a shiver down my spine. Next time, I won’t stop. I’ll take what I want because what I want isJahmar.

I walk around the reception desk and find Femi chatting with a tenant.

“I’ve tried everything, drain cleaner and a plunger, but it won’t unblock. My bathroom looks like a bloody swamp,” a tenant named Sanita complains.

It’s not the first time this has happened. Usually, it’s an accumulation of her thick black hair in the shower drain. God forbid she puts her hand down there to remove it herself; that’s beneath her. You can’t be caught dead fishing out sodden clumps of hair from a drain when you’re a local MP.

“Ah, jus di man mi did a look fah,” Femi says with a conspiratorial smirk.

She scans me up and down, eyebrows drawing together. “Wa’ mek yuh wet?”

I run a hand through my damp fringe, floundering for an excuse. “I erm, I splashed my face. It’s hot.”

“Mhm,” Femi says before kissing her teeth.

She most definitely thinks I took a little evening swim. She isn’t half wrong. Femi scrutinises my clothes. Busted.

“Sanita, let me come help you with that drain,” I rush out before Femi can start asking more questions.

“Oh, that would be marvellous,” Sanita replies in the queen’s English. She’s originally from Beeston, fuck knows where that accent came from. She probably spent her teens watching BBC News and perfecting it, Tory cunt.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and make a beeline for the lift. I love Femi to pieces, but I’d rather her not know my business, especially when it involves dry-humping tenants in the pool.

After violating my hand, fishing out lumps of Sanita’s hair from the drain, and taking a break, it’s a few minutes to midnight.

I lied to Femi and told her I had a bad stomach and needed to take a dump. She grimaced at me and then went back to sweeping the floor. That should buy me some time.

I unfasten the trousers Jahmar lent me, slam the toilet seat down, and sit, spreading my legs slightly. My cock already strains against the soft material. Dipping my hand inside, I pull my cock up so it’s resting against my stomach; it bobs in anticipation.

This is fucked, but there’s not a chance in hell I can stop myself from logging onto the feed to see the show Jahmar wants to put on for me. He wants me to watch. He gets off on it, so who am I to deny him that privilege?

I log on at midnight. Jahmar’s nowhere to be found. His bed is empty apart from that purple fucking dildo and a bottle of lube that’s placed in the middle of the bed like a fucking beacon.

Several minutes pass, and he’s still not there. Was he fucking with me?

Trepidation creeps in. A painful knot forms in my stomach, and my skin feels tight. As the minutes pass, fury simmering in my blood. He’s fucking taunting me, making a fool out of me like he always does. I was stupid to think anything good could come from this; it’s all a game to him.

I clasp my phone in one shaky hand and use the other to do up my trousers. My face feels hot, and I have no doubt I’m bright red. I’m that pissed off.

One more minute, and if he doesn’t show, I’m done. I feel like I’ve been edged to the point of fucking combustion.

Mere seconds before I log off, he appears and looks up at the camera with a smug smirk on his face. Bastard, keeping me waiting.

Jahmar crawls onto the bed, leans his head and shoulders down and points his arse up in the air wearing nothing but that silly little jockstrap.

So much for my fury, I plonk my arse back on the toilet seat and rapidly remove my dick with a trembling hand. Every cell in my body feels like a live wire with how turned on I am.

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