Cheryl had never masturbated in front of anyone. Not properly. Not like she did at home. But as she worked herself with the vibrator, the plug in her asshole and her own fingers inside herself, she fell into familiar patterns, stroking and teasing until a second orgasm was inevitable.
The whole time, Patrick watched her like she was a mildly interesting golf game, drinking whiskey and even checking his phone, texting and grinning at things she couldn’t see as she masturbated helplessly in front of him. He looked every inch the private school asshole, bored at some low-rent sex show. She couldn’t believe he could be so cold. Or that it would get her so hot.
Panting, she watched him yawn and check his watch, and her whole world shuddered. He was so mean, so mean and so sexy and—
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”
She pulled the wand from herself, gasping.
A short whistle tore through the room. Patrick looked furious. “More. Get your fingers back in your cunt and keep going.”
Did he usually say ‘cunt’ to girls? Did he do this to them? Soaked with sweat, Cheryl shook her head. “I can’t.”
He raised the bottle of Chivas. “You wanna get fucked with this instead?”
She slid her fingers back inside herself.
Time passed. Her pussy swelled under the pressure, and soon the plug in her ass felt like nothing. Whenever she slowed down or tried to change the stimulation, Patrick snapped his fingers at her. He had an uncanny ability to know when she was close and holding back. She’d read a Sunday Times article that said he was one of the most intuitive players in the AFL. Someone who could adapt and excel in any situation. Turned out that wasn’t just a football thing.
As a third orgasm bore down on her like a freight train, Cheryl wondered if this was what he meant about making her come more—her touching herself. It didn’t seem fair, but she didn’t have the space to process that. She was drowning in the shitty motel bed, her every nerve sparking.
“Three fingers,” Patrick snarled. “Now.”
Her right hand, weary from holding the vibrator, was growing weaker by the second. She re-gripped the wand and it slipped, tumbling between her legs. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Patrick glared at her and then knelt on the mattress. As the bed shifted, she screwed her eyes shut, bracing for whatever punishment he had in store. Warm softness washed across her pussy. His tongue was on her, licking her clit in slow circles. She whimpered, the sensation so different and human.
“Oh lord,” she panted.
He bent lower, his mussy fringe falling onto her stomach. This was real. Patrick Normal was going down on her. She slid her fingers from herself, trying to get a better angle to watch him, and his fingers were inside her in a heartbeat, ten times bigger and stronger than her own. She screamed, climax swerving into her body like a drunk driver. He licked her through it, moaning into her cunt, and it was the knowledge that he wanted this and her, that he liked it, that let her disappear into pleasure.
She must have blacked out, because when she opened her eyes and caught her breath, he was gone. Her pussy was empty, her plugged asshole throbbing.
She looked around and found him back at the foot of the bed, still fully dressed like the night she’d ruined everything between them. He wiped his knuckles across his mouth. “All fours.”
Clumsily, she rearranged herself, mouth dry at the knowledge this was it. He was going to fuck her. The beginning of the end. Then the vibrator was back between her legs.
Furious, she collapsed onto the mattress. “Nooooo!”
He slapped her ass, making her cheek shake. “Up.”
“I can’t,” she whined. “I can’t keep going.”
He pushed a hand under her stomach and hauled her up. “Think about something else. Think about some little ticky-tacky business problem you have to solve. This isn’t for you. This is for me.”
The vibrator returned to her clit. His hand stayed on her stomach, making her body hum like a live wire. She came slowly, humping the head of the wand, slick and desperate, and the second he let go of her, she collapsed.
Patrick grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her back like she was nothing. He knelt between her thighs, locking them in place. He sat back, ripping his shirt over his head. Like her, he was gleaming with sweat. Unlike her, he looked incredible even under the fluorescent light. His lip curled in a feral smile. “Want some dick?”
She nodded dumbly. Why would he want her like this? Like a used little doll? She kept her mouth shut as he rummaged through the covers and produced her dildo. She could have cried. “No, Patrick. I want you!”
“How come?” he said, rubbing the fleshy toy down with lube. “Your rubber boyfriend isn’t big enough for you now or something?”
She tried to touch his cheek. “Please…”
Patrick gripped her wrist and pushed her hand to the bed. “Is that ‘buddy?’ You saying your safeword?”
“No.”
