Shadows bathe the room as street lighting filters in through the gauzy curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling window, allowing enough visibility to make out his features and nothing more. The darkness conceals the story my body tells, one I am not willing to share with anyone. Not even Gail.
“You like that, baby?” he grunts above me as he twists his hips. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. Oh, wait, that’s interesting. He groans and ruts into me harder, bumping against my clit with every other stroke. Bonus points for accidental stimulation.
“You coming?” he asks, slowing down his thrusts.
Oh, wow. He’s one of those. Wants to ensure I enjoy myself, but doesn’t know how to get me there. Poor guy. All looks, no skill.I clench my inner muscles in a bid to hurry this encounter to its conclusion so I can get back to my research. I have lives to save. Gail didn’t factor that into her homework. My brain pulls up the complex web of information I’ve spent years amassing, yet again analyzing the net I’m slowly shrinking around Jonathan Carver. Murderer. Rapist. Sex trafficker. He is everything vile in this world, and despite my best efforts, he eludes me. I close my net, yet he slips through, moving hisoperation to a new location every time I get close. He has friends in high places; powerful politicians funding and feeding him information.
Derek? groans above me as I tighten around him again. “That’s it, baby. You like it right there? My big cock makes you come real hard.”
He’s a talker. Ugh.
The flash of his white teeth show. “Yeah. Moan for me, baby.”
I did that out loud? My bad. “Yes, just there,” I cry out as I practice my Kegel exercises. Might as well make use of this time. It’s not giving me a good enough cardio workout anyway. I moan again, forcing an arch in my back. Where’s my Golden Globe?Hollywood should be calling any minute now.
“Yeah, you love my cock, baby.”
What is it with men calling us baby? I don’t get it. I have a name; use it. Albeit, a fake name, but it’s still more individualized thanbaby. Then again, if I continue to pick men with little substance, what do I expect? The double standard isn’t lost on me. I don’t want to be called baby, and yet I can’t remember his name. It’s due to indifference, not memory problems. If anything, I have a splendid memory, photographic for the written word. But my brain is full, and I know this encounter will be over in thirteen minutes. He grunts into my shoulder as he presses his weight down on me. Overestimated. This will be over in three minutes.
He stalls his hips, a low whine escaping his mouth. That’s different. Groans, shouts, huffs, one screamer, but the whine is a first. He pants against my neck, his hot breath stirring the hairs on my temple, his skin sliding against mine.
I haven’t even broken a sweat.
He rolls off me and pulls the condom off, ties it into a knot, and drops it in the trash can I set next to the bed for that exact purpose.
I stare at the ceiling. Nothing. A gaping emptiness sits within my skin. No connection. No emotion—good or bad. Maybe a minor irritation Gail’s magic fix hasn’t made me normal, but that’s overrated anyway. Perhaps I should give up now? Accept I am here to demolish evil men’s empires and resign myself to a life of solo pleasure? It’s not an awful life. It is a free one, something I didn’t think was possible growing up. My mind flicks to the teachings, the training, the abuse. Still nothing. My heart continues at a steady pace. It’s like I can watch the memories, but I am not in them. I’m separated from the little girl I was, leaving my mind on that dining table in a room smelling of burning wood and heated metal. My body trembling against a tree in the dark as my mother spews her defiance at Jonathan and pays for it with her life. Perhaps I never escaped and this is merely some delusion I built around myself to prevent my mind from shattering into a thousand pieces.
Scrap that. If it was, I’d definitely have constructed a world where I had an orgasm every time I had sex.
“That was…” Dennis starts. Crap. He’s still here. I thought he’d left already. They always leave as soon as they’re done. “Give me ten minutes, and we can go again.”
What? Again? Um, no. “Thanks, but I have an early morning. I need my beauty sleep.”
He rolls onto his side, and his warm hand lands on my breast, squeezing the delicate flesh. I frown as I glance down at his large tanned hand contrasting against my milky pallor. The groping breast squeeze? That is not sexy. “You are beautiful enough, baby.”
Sterling compliment,Donald. I’menough. Am I though? My lips thin. Not really. I can say the right thing, behave in a way that engages someone enough for a tumble between the sheets, but the facade is exhausting, and not something I can maintain for long periods of time. The second they see the true me,beneath the makeup, the coy flirty smile, and the well-placed compliments—the moment they discover I’m not a perfect woman, they run.
I learned that the hard way.
What I need now is for Mr. D to leave so I can finish myself off, report to Gail, and head home.
“Sorry, I really need sleep.”
His hand trails down my stomach and lands between my legs. I blink at the ceiling as he tries, and fails, to locate my clit. Given the metal hoop attached to it, it’s actually a feat to not find that bundle of nerves. At least he knows it exists. That’s one step closer to men conquering the orgasm.
I grip his wrist and shake my head. “I’m too sensitive.”
He grins. “You sore, baby?”
I scrunch my nose.Yes, your giant dick broke my pussy. Congratulations. “I am.”
He sighs and rolls onto his back before folding his arms underneath his head and closing his eyes.
Umm. No.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sleeping.”
