Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
He was comfortably waiting downstairs in the building's foyer, sitting in one of the lounge chairs of the Manhattan residence tower. Some years ago, he had been lucky and bought the penthouse for a little less than 30 million dollars. It was a true, luxurious, residential building. He heard rumours of movie stars living there, but he was not interested in them.
The penthouse, with space rivalling a multi-floor townhouse, had all floors accessible by a private elevator. Within are five bedrooms and seven bathrooms; for outdoor life, 2,173 square feet of terrace space stretch beyond glass walls and doors.
And right now, he patiently killed time, having a latte macchiato after the in-house restaurant staff had served him a delicious meal, consisting of wagyu and Kobe beef and side dishes. He was cosy and enjoyed having time to read through several newspapers.
As he was about to pick up the New York Times, the elevator bell chimed, and four big, athletic men walked out. They were all NFL players; he had invited them himself after a careful analysis of all the potential prospects.
He wanted to jump up but managed to control himself and calmed himself down, remaining seated. He quickly discovered it was the perfect way of watching their physiques, as he observed their predatory walk, muscles ripping under their clothes.
Two of them were Black, and the other two were White. The two blonde Caucasians looked like Vikings, giving him an excellent impression of what those fantastic warriors must have looked like: unshaven, raw and dominant. The two Blacks were even more impressive, and he could clearly see the veins of their bulging biceps.
As the four men walked past him, he could see those flat on the sides, round muscular butts, perfect examples of strong bodies made for breeding. He visualised how hard those butts would shove their large cocks deep inside any cunt writhing below them, and he shivered from the idea of what might have happened in his penthouse.
He saw that they had a slightly slower walk when they arrived, as if their strong bodies were tired, but their athleticism didn’t show it. Their faces had a fulfilled look. They didn’t talk; they didn’t need to.
He casually looked at his watch to check the time, and he realised he had been waiting downstairs a little over four hours. Four hours ago, he had carefully left his private elevator key stuck in the upper stock keyhole of the elevators´ operating panel, permitting the men to access his penthouse without any troubles. The elevator would stop directly in-house, where his wife, Bibi, and 19-year-old daughter, Alessandra, would have welcomed the four men.