For now, I’ll concentrate on work. Not exactly using my brain, but I enjoy working at the club. Knowing I can’t work there forever has me wracking my brain trying to figure out my next move. I’m doing some college courses online, nothing special just some business management stuff. Not that I know what I’m going to do with the classes I’m taking. All I do know is that I’m preparing for something; I’m just unaware what that something is right now.
I do know that I’d rather not be stuck in this apartment and I won’t be. Next weekend, I move into my new townhouse. I’ve never been a homeowner, always rented, but no longer. I’ve purchased a town home just a few miles from the diner and less than ten miles from the club. It’s a beautiful new construction in a gated community. I feel safe there and that’s something I haven’t felt since my father died.
After he passed and my mother sold the house, I moved from one friends’ couch to another’s until I found an apartment. This is my third apartment. Each time I moved to a better neighborhood, a better building. The lease is up next month on this place; I will not be re-leasing. Nope, I, Skye Briar Blake am an official homeowner. One step toward what I want…what I think I want.
Closing my eyes, I tried to forget about moving and about my back, about my sore feet, but I’m unable to forget about the dude, the asshole. It was all so strange and I still can’t make sense of it or him. He’s probably getting carnal knowledge of Stella at this very second. Gross. Really friggin’ gross. I love Stella, I really do, but the woman makes me look like a nun compared to her conquests. I’d say more power to her, but I’ve seen some of the gems she’s brought home.
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. I’ve been soaking in a warm tub, my bourbon long gone, and my sexual frustration at an all-time high. Places that had no business reacting to a stranger were tingling and aching. His rudeness left my panties damp and my nether regions begging for attention.
Yeah, my pussy is shameless like that. Although I can understand completely, it’s been quite a while since the attention whore had gotten…well, any attention.
Putting my empty glass down next to the bathtub, I blow out a few of the candles leaving only a couple burning, and I lie back against the tub, closing my eyes and the asshole’s face appears behind my eyelids. He looks cocky and arrogant even in my fantasy and fuck if that doesn’t get me ten times hotter. What was it about him?
He’s sitting at the same table he had joined me at earlier. The same table where he insulted me, stole my fries, and eventually drank my soda. Eyeing me with nothing but intent. “Bend over the table and don’t say a word, Skye or should I call you Sunny as I fuck you?”
He knows my names, both of them, few did.
I was frozen in place. As if there was a chance of a different decision, I stood still and ignored his command.
His hands toy with the stiff fabric of my diner uniform, and in one fluid motion, he has the dress above my ass and hips and has me bent over the formica just as he wanted, just as he demanded.
His hands squeeze my ass almost to the point of pain, and I pray he doesn’t stop. “No panties? You are one naughty girl, Skye.” Letting his finger follow the crack of my ass down, I know the second he finds out how wet I am. “You liked waiting on me that much, huh?” Busted. “Good, because I’ve been hard since you served me my fries.” Thank you.
Within seconds, I hear his zipper, and I know he’s freeing himself from his denim barricade. Instantly, I feel the smooth, hot skin of his dick against my ass cheeks. The thick head of his shaft pushes its way against my swollen pussy until he is lined up and he plunges into me. Nothing sweet nor slow—this was a fast, can’t-get-enough fucking. Sometimes a girl just needed to be fucked, and this was one of those times.
Pushing against him with each thrust, it’s like we’re in a race to the finish line. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The sound of his body colliding with mine echoes in the diner. The space smells of deep-fried sex.
For the briefest moment, I question myself. I don’t even know this man. Yet, it’s as if my body knows his and vice versa. I feel my body react to his like it has never reacted to another. My God! My climax is nearing; I can feel it, and it’s coming closer with every pant of his warm breath that touches my skin and with each soft moan I let slip through my lips.
Nameless asshole increases his speed as he feels my sex start to tighten around him. “Your pussy—goddamn!” he growls in my ear as he bites along my shoulders. Removing one hand from my hip, he pulls me back by my throat and bites me—bites the hell out of me, biting along my neck and jaw. The muscles in his thighs began to quiver from pure exhaustion.
He’s lost control and can’t slow down, hammering into me hard enough that the table moves, my knuckles bright white where I grip the edge of the table so tightly. I am as far gone as he is.
When I gasp, he knows I’m about to come. He takes his hand from my throat—which was a fucking turn on and he covers my mouth when I start getting a little loud.
I don’t have the strength to stop my orgasm; there’s no way to stop myself from coming like a mad woman. I bite his hand. I bite it hard.
He continues, not faltering as he pumps into me. Biting my neck as wave after wave of electricity leaves his body and pours into mine. My flesh between his teeth, his left hand grips me so hard I know that I’m going to be bruised, and I want it, I crave it, I want to see his passion mark me. His body twitches with the aftershocks of his cataclysmic orgasm, and I smile as I drift into euphoria. I drift further, with the hint of Cool Water cologne filling my senses.
When I shiver, I realize it’s not from my release this time, but because the water has gone cold. My back, my feet, all forgotten, I only remember the orgasm that I just gave myself with my own hand—all while thoughts of the wrong guy are playing in my head. Once again, it is only in my dreams, night or day that a man has given me an orgasm. Because once again, I am simply a girl in her own tub with an imagination and a sexual hunger that’s yet to be satisfied by anyone other than herself.
Chapter Four
**Jaden**
Looking out the front windows of my gym for the hundredth time in the last six hours has me wincing, and I shake my head at my actions. Fuck, my head still hurts. Of course, the music coming over the speakers in here isn’t helping, but I can’t turn it off. No, I’ve got clients asking me daily if I’ll crank it up, change the station, what-the-fuck-ever. My mood is shitty to say the least and only a tenth of it is from my unending headache. I’d say I was lucky if I slept more than a couple of hours.
Confused, that’s what I am. I am confused as fuck. Jesus, thinking of my actions last night I can’t believe what I did. Like some lovesick puppy, I followed her. I followed Skye. She’s so not my type it’s not even funny. Yet, I’m drawn to her like a fucking industrial strength magnet.
Looking around the studio, I see at least five women that I’m sure I could fuck in my office right now. A couple of them I actually have—not that they knew about each other. Each thought they’d be the one to change me, change my playboy ways. It still kills me that every piece of ass swears she’ll be the one to lock me down. Not happenin’. Nope, I like my freedom. I’m a pussy connoisseur, and I’m not looking to change that title anytime soon. Some men are addicted to sports, some are motor heads, some drink too much; I like the feel of sinking inside some hot, wet pussy. It’s my weakness, my kryptonite, but hell if I’m looking for rehabilitation. I’d rather sink deeper into this addiction, if you know what I mean.