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Holy shit, the way she posed, the scent I caught on her when we were stretching, the way her big doe eyes looked up at me from whatever pose I put her in…
“Fffffuuuuuuuck.” I beat off faster, harder, zeroing in on her pretty little mouth. I want to fuck it until her lips are swollen and red and drool drips off her chin. I want to come on her tongue and watch her spit it back out onto my cock.
“That’s my good girl.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I grip my cock harder and jerk it faster. A growl erupts from between my clenched teeth. Thinking of her topless, with her tiny tits and big hips, those perfect little feet and her long hair, the way she kept watching me as I moved around her to take picture after picture, capturing every goddamn angle of her sweet perfection in those big black wings…
I blow my load in record time.
Shame takes hold of me, even as my heart’s racing in my ribcage and dick’s still throbbing in my palm. I shouldn’t have done this. It’s over-stepping a line. She didn’t give consent to this and now I feel sick for using her pictures to find some relief for myself.
If I was a better man, I’d cancel the contract. If I was a more honorable gentleman, I wouldn’t be gearing up to jack off again. My dick is still hard and sensitive, and I know full well I could chase a second release. I want another orgasm badly.
So, I deny myself as punishment.
“Fuck my life.” After turning off my computer screen, I pull off my shirt and unbuckle my belt while climbing the steps to head to the bathroom. Hopefully a cold shower will help reset my body and mind.
Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.
Fifteen minutes under the ice-cold spray and I’m still just as hard and needy as ever. Getting out of the house might help, because I can almost guarantee that staying here, with Mak’s photos in need of editing, will not soothe my desperate need to fuck.
This requires a distraction. One bigger than I can get inside my house. Dressing in a hurry—as if the longer I stay in my house, the worse the temptation to work on Mak’s photos will get—and I snag my keys and haul ass out my front door. There are only a few places I like in this town, but none of them will do for me now. I need something chaotic. Loud. With the new club that just opened up last month only a half hour away from me, why not try there?
Backing out of my driveway and ready to rock, I crank up the music as I tear through town to reach the other side of it.
“Shit.” Once I pull into the lot, I can’t even find a parking space. I end up in the back corner, which is dimly lit, and seriously start regretting my decision to come here once I hear country music blasting through the speakers. No shade to country music fans, it’s just not what I was expecting, considering the last time I was here, they were blasting Papa Roach.
I breeze through the foyer where there are posters hanging on the walls, each promoting a different event taking place this month. Well shit, it appears Tuesday is line-dancing night. Just my fucking luck. Making my way to the bar area, I choose a spot with the best view of the club’s dance floor.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, plopping a coaster in front of me.
I quickly scan what’s on tap. “Guinness and a menu, please?”
“Sure thing.” He reaches under the bar and hands me one.
As I peruse the impressive list of dishes, I hear someone cackle-laugh and look up.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Mak is on the far side of the bar, her head tipped back, and she’s laughing at something a blonde just said. The two of them are holding onto each other like if they let go, they’ll fall off their barstools.
I grab my pint and bring it to my mouth, chugging half of it in three gulps. I’ve never met this woman before today and in less than twenty-four hours, this is our third encounter. It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something.
Not that I believe in that Mercury swimming the Gatorade or Saturn spinning a little too far to the right stuff, but damn, it’s hard to deny that something’s up when this is the third encounter I’ve had with Mak in a twenty-four-hour period.
The bartender steps in front of my perfect view. “Decide what you want yet?”
Yeah. Mak, on her back, her legs hooked around my shoulders so I can devour her pussy thoroughly for an appetizer. “Two dozen chipotle dry rub wings, bone in, please. And the loaded nachos.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.” I hand over the menu, and once the bartender gets out of my way, I go back to staring at Mak. It’s at this point she looks over at me from across the bar and her eyes round with surprise. Her posture stiffens, and like a tool, I lift my glass like I’m saluting her before I take another big gulp.
Her blonde friend’s mouth drops, and I think it’s because Mak’s muttered something to her. One thing I know from a lifetime of rejection and awkwardness is to dive all in and fuck the consequences. I slide off my stool and prowl through the growing crowd of people ordering beers and mingling at the high tops.
Mak rolls her shoulders back when she sees me heading her way. An easy-going smile spreads across my face. One does on hers as well.
“Hey, Mak.” I won’t call her Pricurious in front of her friend. For all I know, this woman has no idea Mak’s on a kink site and I’m not about to out her or give her friend a reason to pry into the name. People can be judgmental little shits, even if they’re your friend.