Chapter 2 #2
I kiss down her neck and palm both of her perky tits in my hands. They feel wrong. A little overweighted. I've held more than enough tits in my hands over the years. I won't say I'm an expert when it comes to women's fun bags, but I'm as close to an expert as I can get.
It takes me a second to figure out why they feel wrong to me. I look down again, a little surprised by how natural they look.
They're definitely fake, but whoever the doctor was that hooked her up did a wonderful job. He really took care to make them look as natural as possible.
"You like?" Lacy whispers, and I nod my head.
"It's good work. I was just admiring them."
Once again, she looks up at me as if I’m a complete mystery to her. I’m assuming she’s not used to people telling her the truth when it comes to the work she’s got done.
I’ve never really been the type of person to hold my tongue. That’s gotten me into more trouble than I want to think about right now, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Uhh… thanks…” she mutters, but her eyes instantly roll back when I let my fingers trail down her body and softly begin to rub the pads of my fingertips against her slippery core.
She’s already ready for me. I appreciate that.
I hold her close to me with one arm and my eyes scan the room while she’s deep into the feelings of pleasure that I’m giving her.
I don’t really want to lay her down on the floor, but the only other space in the room that would be big enough to hold me and her is a small cot-like bed.
It’s the only large surface in the room, and that means everyone else would have been using it for the same activities Lacy and I are about to indulge in.
I don’t really want to be rolling around in other men’s spend.
Instead, I let my eyes settle on the small chair I’ve already draped my cut over—it’s the next best thing. I grab hold of her legs, and with very little effort, I lift her off the ground so she has to wrap her legs around my waist.
“Oh God… yes,” she moans, and even though we haven’t really gotten started yet, I can tell this one wasn’t a fake moan. She’s really excited for what’s about to happen.
I love a bit of enthusiasm. That’s definitely going to add a few ticks to her score.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. I’m really a fucking ass. The deed isn’t even done yet, and already I’m trying to think about her score instead of just enjoying the time we have together.
Before I sit on the chair, I undo my pants and slide them down just a bit. I leave my boxers on, thankful that I’ll be able to pull myself out without having to pull them all the way down from my ass. I don’t want my skin on any surface in here if I can help it.
I settle Lacy on my lap, pushing her back a bit so I can free my cock from the thin cloth prison. She gasps when she looks down at it.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply to any unanswered questions she may have rolling around in her mind. I’m a big boy. Blessed, as some might say.
She smiles wide and tries to lift herself up so she can take me inside her.
I grab hold of her hips and keep her seated for a second. She must be out of her mind if she really thinks I’m going to let her ride me raw. I’m not that much of a dumbass.
I reach down into the pocket of my jeans and pull out a sleeve of condoms. I always have at least half a dozen on my person at all times. You never know when I might need them.
“Right, sorry,” she mumbles and tries to keep a smile on her face, but I can see that she’s a little disappointed.
I’m not. I’ve never been inside a woman raw, and I don’t ever plan on it.
I’m pretty sure fucking a woman without a condom is just like taking a taste of heroin.
Once I know what it feels like, nothing will ever be the same.
I hand her the condom and watch as she expertly rips the wrapping open and pulls out the latex. Lacy licks her lips and slowly rolls the condom down my thick cock. I groan at the feel of her small hands working the protection over me.
Her fingers are quick, sliding the condom over me with practiced ease. Her eyes stay locked on mine like she’s waiting for a reaction, a spark, something to tell her she’s got me exactly where she wants me.
And sure, my body’s on board. I’m hard, I’m ready, I’m in the mood.
But there’s a thin layer between us I can’t quite ignore.
Maybe it’s the musty smell of the room. Maybe it’s the way she keeps glancing at her own reflection in the mirror behind me like she’s putting on a show more than sharing a moment.
She grips my shoulders and grinds down with a practiced rhythm, her head thrown back, a moan already building deep in her throat.
"Shit," I grunt as she sinks down on me, tight and wet like she’s been warming herself up since I walked in. The sensation is good. Good enough.
But barely a few strokes in, and she starts going loud. Loud like she’s on stage again. Loud like there’s an audience in the walls.
“Oh God, yes. Yes, fuck me!”
I clamp a hand over her mouth, gripping the back of her head with the other so she doesn’t lose balance.
“Quiet,” I hiss against her ear. “You’re the one who said we can’t get caught. You wanna risk someone opening that door?”
Her eyes widen, but I feel her smile against my palm. She nods and starts moving again, slower now, muffled gasps slipping between my fingers.
Her nails dig into my chest. She rolls her hips in tight, fast circles, chasing her own release with zero concern for anything else. I know her type. Girls who know how to fuck but never learned how to feel.
I help her along, gripping her ass, letting her ride the friction while I keep her body close and my head somewhere far away. I should be more into this. She's hot. Tight. Responsive. The kind of girl most guys would beg for.
But all I can think about is how off it feels.
Too wet. Too quick. Too fake.
She clenches around me with a sharp cry, her whole body shaking as she comes. I keep my hand over her mouth, holding her in place while she rides it out. It’s a solid performance. Almost convincing.
I let go of her mouth just as the last tremor runs through her.
“You okay?” she whispers, breathless and smiling.
“Yeah,” I grunt, still moving beneath her. I’m close, too close to stop now. I grip her hips tighter and thrust up hard a few times, chasing my own release without flair. A few seconds later, I finish with a low groan, head falling back against the wall behind me.
Silence settles over us, sticky and sharp.
She climbs off and fixes her hair in the mirror like nothing happened.
I toss the used condom in the trash and pull my pants back up, my body relaxed, but my mind still wired. Still hollow.
She turns and flashes me a wink. “Told you it was gonna be good.”
I smirk, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah. Real good. I'd give you a solid three and a half stars.” My eyes slide close and I let the last bit of my euphoria wash over me.
"What?"
"Huh?" I blink my eyes open.
"Did you just say that I was a 3 star lay?"
Fuck, did I say that out loud again? I really never learn. "Don't forget the third star. It really does count." I quickly fix my pants and grab hold of my cut that's hanging on the back of the chair.
"You unimaginable asshole... how the hell-"
I cut her off before she can get all the way worked up. She's not my woman and she knew that this was all for a good time. If she thought she was going to get more out of me tonight it's best I let her down now.
"I'm heading out of here sweetness. You have a good night.
" I reach in my pocket and pull out four bills.
She never gave me a price and I don't usually pay for a lay but I can at least compensate her for her time she missed out on the floor.
I drop the money in her hand and she looks from the greenbacks back up to my face.
Once again that look of utter confusion plastered on her expression.
If I were any other man I'd stay and try to comfort her. If I were any less of an asshole I'd do my best to ease her confusion. But I'm not. I tried to do the good guy thing before and it only got me burned in the process. I'm not going through that again.
I fix my clothes, nod once in Lacy's direction before I walk out of the back room and through the dim club.
A few other women try to get my attention but I'm not in the mood to entertain anyone else tonight.
Usually after I get a piece of trim I'm in a much better mood but tonight it's almost as if getting my rocks off has done nothing but make me all the more tense.
I'm not looking forward to going back to the clubhouse tonight. I think I'll just stay at the shop. My room in the back is bigger than the one in the clubhouse anyway.
Almost on autopilot I hop on my bike and make my way back toward the clubhouse.
Why am I slowing down?
Before I can make it to the block, I pass by Melissa's house. I'm happy to see the short term fix I used to get the lights back on is still working. Even if I know I'm going to have to come back and do a better job.
So why the hell am I still sitting here, staring at her porch like it’s got answers I’m not ready to hear?
She’s not mine. She’s not even my type.
But for some damn reason… I can’t make myself drive away.