Zipper Fall (3 page)

Lights from the streets illuminated the Spartan bedroom interior as I slipped in, landing in a crouch. The white carpet gleamed pale amber, reflecting the sodium lamps outside. I look around and froze.

The bed was occupied.

At this point, I should have climbed out the window and back up the building and gotten out of there. Yet I stood here, conflicted between running away and getting a little closer. The bed’s owner was sprawled naked on his back, his head and shoulders shrouded by the shadows. The stark city glow, barely impeded by sheer curtains, accentuated the shady contours of his trim abdomen and his well-muscled legs. I stopped in my tracks, feeling as though a Grecian marble statue from a nearby museum had been placed on this stranger’s bed, displayed for my eyes to feast upon. He was incredible, beautiful in the unearthly glow, and I felt like a lost man, captivated by the sight of his physical beauty. Even if I weren’t into guys, I think I would have gotten hard.

He stirred. I broke from my stunned reverie and looked around fast. The dark corner of the room to my left was my only hope, and then I realized a closet was there, with its door cracked open. I ducked into the shadows, moving fast. I blessed my luck and slipped inside, not making a sound. My breathing came in short, shallow breaths, and my heartbeat felt like a drum against the wall of my chest. I fought to maintain absolute silence. I heard Jack Azurri stir. His bed creaked. Then there was the soft patter of his feet, almost muffled by his lush carpet.

I hope he won’t kill me on sight.

I swear I’ll never do this again.

I heard him piss in the bathroom next to me, and I breathed a deep, silent sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to voice any rash oaths just yet.

He flushed and washed his hands.

More footsteps, this time in my direction. Once again I began to negotiate with the powers that be.

“Fuck, it’s hot.” The low, sexy growl shot an arrow of heat down my spine.

I heard him draw the curtains aside and open the window even wider. The heavy evening air stirred, and even more light poured in from the street.

My heart sang in relief.

The mattress creaked as he got back in bed. So far so good. I’d have to wait until he was asleep before I could make my exit out the window, which he, being such a considerate gentleman, had opened even wider for my convenience. I didn’t dare attempt cracking the safe with him there. In fact, I barely dared to breathe. I waited, wondering why the hell he wasn’t on a vacation like he should have been.

Light snoring reached my ears, and I pushed the closet door to the side a little more, just enough to get out comfortably. With painful slowness I peeked around the wooden panel.

There he was, now fully lit by the dramatic glow from outside, legs spread apart, sporting a significant boner. You would think I would be no stranger to that part of male anatomy, but being single, it had been a while since I had seen a full-grown specimen. Also, I had never seen one from someone’s closet while hiding in there, trying to avoid detection. This situation had all levels of awkward written all over it, and as my mouth went dry, I felt a hot blush rise up to my cheeks. All the same, I wasn’t quite willing to look away.

Light pollution was the burglar’s enemy under ordinary circumstances, but right now I felt grateful for its ubiquitous, eerie glow. This guy, no matter what Reyna had to say about his personality, had the goods. Neon lights, flashing from outside, reflected off the smooth planes of his muscles as he twitched, giving a slight moan.

Sleep, dammit.

Sleep didn’t come to him easily that night. Soon, I saw his powerful thighs tense up as his hand crept to his groin. He reached his fingers to skim his stiff shaft. I heard him gasp and knew that even though he might have looked as though he was in the dream world, he wasn’t even close to being asleep. I sucked in my lower lip, working hard to control my breathing. Before me was a Greek god come alive, parts of him veiled in shadow, mysterious and beautiful. He was a gorgeous specimen of a man and— Well, I’d been raised better than to intrude, except I’d never seen a man as perfect as him laid out on display like this.

Blood rushed to my dick and I bit my lip as I struggled not to whimper with desire. Damn but was he ever so beautiful. He was a gorgeous specimen of a man, and I’d have done a lot to go out there and join the party—except I wasn’t keen on him introducing me to the local police department.

Slowly, my hand crept down, past my raging hard-on and inside the cargo pocket of my pants. I flipped my phone open and turned the camera on. There was just enough light for the device to record what was going on before me. Fighting not to touch myself, I kept my phone trained on the bed.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice nagged, reminding me of my solid upbringing. Surely taking a video of someone in such a delicate moment was beyond the pale. I had no words for it, no justification. I was a thief, though, and I’d never have this man—no chance of that. I could keep this little personal memento, though. An insignificant souvenir to be played a few times and then erased. I just could not avert my eyes as my breath turned into short, shallow pants.

Azurri slid a neck roll under his hips. He reached for something on the bedside table, and I heard a familiar click of a lube bottle. When he touched his delectable specimen of a dick again, I heard his hiss of pleasure. I wanted to be the one doing the touching. He undulated his hips in thrusts both small and intense as his slick fingers did the grab-and-twist around his shaft. Then he spread his feet apart and reached his other hand down to his ass. I saw him stroke around his hole as he let out soft, delicate gasps of pleasure. When I saw his finger plunge through the tight ring and heard him moan in reaction, I wanted to be the one that made him make sounds like that. Another digit… he gasped, panting and cursing, his two fingers embedded and pulling at his opening, his slick hand pumping his engorged cock. I hoped he’d come soon. I had only so much self-control, and my phone had only so much memory left…
yesssss
.

His voice was a growl and a moan and it resonated as thick ropes of jizz briefly luminesced in the neon lights outside. He pulled again and his hips rose off the bed in a spasm of pleasure so hard, it yanked the fingers out of his ass. More pearlescent liquid came out in an arc, then more again, and just when I thought he would either levitate entirely or throw his back out, his body crashed down onto the sheets and all I heard was the sound of his loud, raspy pants. A few minutes later, he sat up on the bed, still playing with himself. His eyes were closed and his mouth pulled back in a languorous smile, and all of a sudden, I wanted to know whom he had been thinking of as he came. I wanted it to be me, but there was just no way we would ever even meet. He was beautiful and relaxed, and I really wanted to toss the phone and go to him and lick the come off his chest and kiss him until he forgot his own mother’s name.

Oh God, how I wanted that man.

I watched him walk to the bathroom again. When the water ran, I used the cover of its noise to shut my phone and slip it back in my pocket. I didn’t get to use the screen to aim, but even if the video didn’t show much, I wouldn’t forget the details for a long, long time. In not too long, he climbed back on top of the sheets, hugged a pillow, and this time he fall asleep for good. The scent of his cologne, barely discernible before, increased with his increased body heat and mingled with the musky smell of sex. As I stood in his closet, his suits kept caressing my back, emanating that very same heady scent, and it was all I could do not to roll my eyes back in my head, lean back into all that luxurious fabric, and pass out. It was at least an hour before I could trust myself to move out the window and scale the wall to reach the safety of the roof. Once there, I coiled my rope around my hand and elbow and pulled it up with tired slowness. With klutzy fingers, I untied the other end from the chimney and stowed it in my backpack. My harness came off next, and I dropped it into the bag. With my gear secure, I flopped behind the chimney in exhaustion. Going up is a lot harder, even if you weren’t distracted by the way your body and mind reacted to the spectacle below. After I wiped the sweat off my face with the sleeve of my shirt, I hid my climbing gear in a cooling vent for the next time.

Then I realized I’d just considered doing it again.

My thoughts drifted to the stranger sleeping three floors below. I felt my cock spring to attention again and groaned in frustration. Maybe I could still go to Frankie’s Bar and Lounge. That would be the surest way to meet a hookup and get my needs met—except my needs were no longer simple: I wanted Jack Azurri, not some random stranger whose name and visage I could tune out in the heat of the moment. In the absence of Jack, maybe Kai would do. He was big and strong and almost as gorgeous as Azzuri, even though a bit on the shy side, I thought. He never said much, like he was scared of being found out, and my efforts at getting to really know him had fallen flat to date, but he was still an awesome lay. Except I hadn’t seen Kai in a while, which meant he was probably unavailable, maybe even living the high life somewhere other than Pittsburgh. Azz-hole was already sated and fast asleep; I was the one haunting the rooftops, needy and alone.

I shrugged, sprawled on the asphalt roof, and unzipped my pants. I felt like I couldn’t function in my current state; best get it over with. It would take but a few minutes before I could find relief, gather myself, and go home.

I
T
BECAME
apparent to me almost immediately—after I was done panting over my illicit video of Jack Azurri for the third or fourth time, anyway—that Cupid had played a rather vicious prank on me. I was infatuated, smitten, and hormonally insane. As far as I could recall, I’d never fallen so fast for anyone, or so hard. This time I didn’t even know of any of the guy’s redeeming qualities. I knew his name, home address, housekeeping habits, and occupation, and had it on a good authority that he was an utter asshole at work.

Still….

Here it was, the short footage so hot, it threatened to turn my cell phone into a puddle of molten plastic and twisted wires. The video I took of Azzuri in the middle of the night threatened to singe circuits, both electronic and neural. I leaned back in my office chair and closed my eyes. The feel of the sensuous brushes of his expensive suits against my back was indelibly embedded in my neurophysiological pathways. The scent of his aftershave mingling with the intoxicating, musky scent of sex lingered in the back of my mind. That body endowed with the strength and poise of Discobolos—a Grecian ideal, lean-limbed and muscled, his eyes sultry in repose. And, oh God, that voice. I no longer needed to play the recording; my utterly twisted mind rewound it to the very beginning and recreated every hiss, gasp, and pant from memory. That particular roar at the end was so expressive and intimate and primal, I wanted to hear it over and over—hell, I even considered making it my ringtone.

The physical manifestations of my sorry state left me irritable and distracted. I stopped by Frankie’s Bar and Lounge to see if Kai was there, hoping the redhead could alleviate my pain.

“Nah, he ran into some issues, stayed here for a couple of weeks, and disappeared,” Larry said while pouring me a beer. I thanked him and looked around. Nobody in the upper bar looked anything like Azzuri, Kai had mysteriously disappeared, and I didn’t feel like braving the anonymous sex atmosphere downstairs. I finished half my drink and, thinking sleep sounded good just about now, walked the two miles back to my apartment building.

R
EYNA
might be happy that “Azz-hole” was gone on personal leave, headed for points unknown, but I couldn’t think of Jack Azurri by that nickname anymore. As unattainable as he was, I still found him to be enticing, tempting, and devastating. And let’s face the fact that despite her being my best friend, Reyna was hardly a stellar employee.

Tuesday found me in my office with my eyes half shut and cheeks flushed. I visualized Jack getting out of his bed and padding around, just the way I had seen him from my hiding place in his closet: stark naked and gorgeous, illuminated by the slow flashes of neon signs and the steady glow of sodium street lamps. I imagined him walking off to the kitchen, reaching for a glass, slipping it under the ice dispenser, and getting some ice water in the middle of the night.

Ice.

Frozen assets.

I imagined him opening the freezer and reaching into the back left corner. Empty. Over five grand disappeared overnight.

I wondered how he would look when he was angry. Suddenly I didn’t want him to feel angry, violated, sad….

Shit. I’ve never felt guilty before—that’s why I always selected my donors with such careful precision. Except this one wasn’t selected so carefully. With this one I’d broken a slew of my own rules: the guy was personally known by a friend, the house wasn’t cased well enough, I returned a second time, I entered while he was home, and I allowed it to become personal. This series of events robbed me of that cool detachment which had, up until now, allowed me to dehumanize the victims of my extracurricular activities. Jack Azurri was now a real person, and my sudden pangs of guilt were as new as they were unwelcome.