2. CHAPTER TWO
I know he’s still standing on the other side of the door. I could feel it even before the shadows of his feet gave it away.
At the airport, the girl was who I saw first. With her hips and thighs so thick, and that bare, soft stomach. Bleach blonde, almost white—her hair skimmed her jaw as she tucked it behind her ear and silently judged me whilst at the same time reveling in the attention my eyes were giving her.
Then, I saw him, and I haven’t seen anything else since. Not his friends. Nothing. The entire two-hour ride from Calgary airport, I spent more time looking at him in the rearview mirror than I did the road.
I make him nervous, and the feelings mutual. But I don’t get flustered. My cheeks don’t redden like his do, making the freckles over his nose stand out. He did make my cock hard, though, and I know that’s never happened on sight. Not once. Never has something as meager as eye contact shot an arrow straight from my brain to my dick, nicking something in my chest on its way down.
And… He’s a guy. His shoulders are wide, his thighs look sweeter than candy wrapped up in his skinny jeans, and his dirty blond hair makes him too fucking pretty for his own good. But… he has a dick.
No tits.
No pussy.
No delicate fingers.
No soft curves.
No luscious voice that gets higher the more he’s turned on. His voice is deep with a thick accent that screams of a private school education and more money than he knows what to do with. I bet he’s never even had a conversation with someone as dirt-poor as me. Someone with so little to lose, they don’t let anything stand in the way of what they want.
Fuck. I never even felt like this when Millie dumped Josh in front of the whole school and professed her love for me. I let her kiss me while Amy, Candace, and Laura clapped on the sidelines. I slid my hand into the back of her hair and eyed Josh the whole time his ex fucked my mouth with her tongue. But there wasn’t even the slightest surge of anything that went on inside me. I may as well have been making out with my grandmother. Sexy as that sounds.
I did fuck her that night, though. She’d begged me to, and it was the worst thing I could have done because even though it only lasted ten minutes, it was the best I’d ever felt in my life.
All the alcohol and cigarettes in the world couldn’t compare to the power I had. She hung on to everything I did. And the feeling of sinking into something so soft and warm and aching for me gave me a high nearly as life-altering as coming inside her.
Almost every night that first month, Millie snuck out of her house and made the trek to the end of Russell Road and into my bed until it became a little too routine for me. Then it was Laura, behind Dad’s shed; bent over—hands against the splintery wood. I knew Millie would be upset, but I didn’t care. Any emotions I had left died when I was forced to my knees and stretched over that fucking log.
All I knew was what felt good, and power and pussy felt fucking amazing.
Millie’s and Laura’s.
And Amy’s mouth and tongue. That girl could suck a golf ball through a garden hose.
Then there was Candace, the most deviant of all. She had me eating her out in the library while she jerked me off with her feet. Those pure white, cotton, knee-high socks were so smooth against me. And when she shoved her fingers in my mouth, my pleasure sensors sparked like pop rocks and I was as complete as I was ever going to be.
She was my favorite. She let me do all the things the others wouldn’t and never asked for me to be exclusive in return. I think that’s why I kept her around the longest, not that I gave it much thought. I didn’t give any of them much thought as soon as they made me come. It didn’t mean I hated them. We were still friends, but once the switch had flipped, they were also vessels, and all I cared about was which one was going to get me off next…
The door to the shit box elevator clangs open and I sense it’s Alma before I even see her. She would have ridden it all the way down and back up to give Jesse enough time to get inside his room.
I don’t want to see her tonight. I haven’t wanted to see her for a while.
I didn’t open my door for her.
I won’t open my door for her again.
Not after tonight.
This will be the last time.
I lower my hand and grab my cock through my sweatpants. With Jesse gone, it’s soft—as per usual—even with the anticipation of sex.
Jesse’s not against his door anymore, but I close my eyes and imagine he is. His hand rubbing his dick with a look of perplexity on his face. Disorientation at why he’s hard thinking about another guy pulsing through him and bringing him to orgasm faster than anything ever has before.
“This is new.” Alma’s French-tipped nails rake up the back of my hand and I try to not show her the disappointment I feel.
I’m not dead inside. I actually like Alma in spite of the fact she didn’t heed my warnings that our arrangement would only ever be physical.
Stepping back, I let her enter my room, and I shut the door behind us. “This is it, okay? No more after tonight.”
Flopping onto my bed, she looks up at me like she doesn’t believe a word of it.
Alma is one of those rare women who doesn’t look better with makeup. Her bare olive skin is flawless and her naturally thick eyelashes border her chocolate eyes to perfection. She’s thirty-three, more of a babe than women ten years her junior, and no one else here can hold a candle to her beauty. But as she lays there on her side—one of her bare feet sliding up and down the calf of her other leg, lust for me intoxicating her—I still feel nothing.
“Seriously, Alma. Tonight is the last time.”
“ He might have a different opinion,” she says, moving to her knees and looking at my hard-on.
“He’s the only one calling the shots.” Lowering my sweatpants, I stroke myself and step to the bed. Alma kneels up and tries to link her arms around my neck for a kiss, but I turn my head away. “I said, no more.”
“So what do you want me to do, then?” she asks, trying to mask the pain of her rejection.
“You can either suck my cock or take off your leggings and bend over.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it… Or you can leave and I’ll do it myself.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do, Alma. You knew what this was from the beginning.”
Her eyes silently fight with mine as she picks the right words to say that won’t sting but will make a point. “I’m not the only one who kept coming back.”
“That’s because your pretty Colombian cunt is the best I’ve ever had.”
Alma’s lips purse and her eyebrows raise ever so slightly in righteous indignation. “So why throw it away, then?”
“Because it no longer sparks any joy,” I spit sarcastically, wishing she would just pick up her dignity and leave of her own accord. But she doesn’t. She has a point to prove and is too in denial to see the person she’s trying to prove it to has already checked out of the interaction.
Taking me by the hips, Alma guides me to lie beside her before tugging off her leggings and rifling through my dresser. Spinning back to me with a condom in her teeth, she straddles me and wraps her fingers around my shaft. We’ve been in this position so many times she knows what I like, but she mistakes my groans for approval.
Tearing the packet open, she rolls the condom down my length and raises herself over me. With my dick in her hand, she uses the head to spread her wetness around before sinking down onto me.
I grunt and bite down on my bottom lip.
I won’t miss Alma, but I’ll miss this pussy and the way it chokes me. How hot it feels. The way she rotates her hips and tugs at me, her muscles gripping and releasing as she uses me to get herself off. I’ll miss how her ass looks when I fuck her from behind and how much of it there is for me to grab.
But still… I won’t miss her .
My hands roam from her knees to her thighs. She’s so toned I can feel every muscle working as she lifts herself up and down.
I wonder what Jesse’s legs feel like. How different it would be to run my fingers through the hairs on them as he fucks himself on my cock.
My abs tense and I shudder at the thought.
Digging my fingers into Alma’s waist, I hold her in place, close my eyes, and rut up into her. Hard. She cries out. Begs me not to stop, but all I see is Jesse’s bare chest, his blond hair hanging loosely in his face as he looks down at me, carnal pleasure and disgust smearing his features. His hand pumps his cock because perplexing as it may be to be railed by a guy, it also feels so fucking good.
“Yes, Kai. Harder!” Alma urges, leaning her hands on my chest. But in my head, the words fall from Jesse’s plump lips and my heart squeezes and contorts with a beautiful ache that settles in my guts. I want to wrap my arms around him. Lick his lips, then kiss them softly. Capture his cries of pleasure in my mouth as he pants on top of me.
I want to see his body overtaken with lust and gratification.
I want to make him feel that way.
I want to do all of those things and more.
I need to.
I need him .
I need to feel this way all the time.
Turned on by a smile. A nervous shuffle. The unfamiliar craving in his eyes. By the thought of making him happy. By the concept of putting someone else before myself.
Nine years ago, I stopped relying on other people. Friendship and sitting left of center had gotten me nowhere, so my life became a solo race to the finish line and I could get there quicker if I had no one weighing me down. Yet now, in a flurry of freckles and dirty-blond hair, I’ve hit a giant fucking speed bump I’m not sure I want to get to the other side of.