Hang out? No. Fuck. No.
She nods, keeping her lips firmly, seductively, teasingly wrapped around her straw, which I’m pretty sure is only sucking up air now that she’s been at it for a good ten minutes.
“One night. Just sex,” she affirms, leaning closer to give me a better advantage of her cleavage. I take notice, and she smiles. Her thumb and finger begin stroking up and down the length of the straw. My cock appreciates the innuendo.
“I can do that. I’ll even promise I won’t fall in love with you.”
I stand, dropping a twenty dollar bill on the bar top. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” I say, staring down into her eyes. The corner of her mouth twists into a smile as I stop her from jerking off the straw. “I hope you don’t think that’s anywhere near what you’re going to be feeling.” I flick my head in the direction of my hand as it wraps around hers, forcing all her fingers to grip the straw with enough pressure, it begins to bend in her palm.
She watches me out of the corner of her eye.
“This is how I like it.” I stroke her hand up and down, slowly, pressing against her skin. “Firm. You got it?”
She laughs, and it’s a nervous one, but I prefer that to some chick who thinks she knows what she’s in for. I don’t like it to feel familiar, not for me, or whoever it is I’m taking home. We’re not going to be getting acquainted. This will never be more than just meaningless sex to me. An empty connection, one that gets my dick wet, but keeps this shit as impersonal as possible.
“Ready?” I ask.
She grabs her clutch off the bar, and spins on her stool to face me. “Ready,” she echoes, tugging at the bottom of her skirt as she stands. Her lips go for mine, but I tilt my head and let her full mouth graze my jaw.
“No kissing,” I tell her, watching the curiosity spread across her face.
An eyebrow raises as she waits for an explanation.
“I don’t do that. Sorry. I’ll fuck you until you have trouble walking, but I won’t kiss you. That’s not part of it.”
“I’ve never had sex with someone and not kissed them. Isn’t that weird?”
“No,” I answer flatly. I lead her out of the bar to the parking lot, releasing my grip from around her waist when I get close to my truck. “Follow me. I don’t mind if you stay the night, but you have to leave first thing in the morning. I have shit to do tomorrow.”
I don’t. I have absolutely zero plans tomorrow.
She gives me a quirky look as she walks backwards toward a vehicle. “Have you always been this way when it comes to sex?”
“Yeah,” I answer, dropping my head into a nod as I open my driver’s side door. I watch her from over my shoulder, catching the limp shrug she gives me in response to my answer before she turns to get into her vehicle.
I climb up into my truck, my head now throbbing along with my dick.
This better be the extent of her questions tonight. The only other response I plan on giving her is “no, you don’t have to swallow.”
This is just sex, and the only thing this chick needs to know is how I fuck, not why I fuck the way I do. I’m not getting personal. My dick is. End of discussion.
“HEY. YOU GOTTA GET UP.”
I kick the edge of the mattress, jarring the lifeless body slumped across it. She doesn’t move, not even a slight stir to let me know she’s heard me. I move the coffee cup I’m holding to my other hand and reach down to pinch her bare ass. She squeals.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” I say as her head slowly turns, her eyes peering through the dark hair that’s covering her face. “Remember . . . shit to do today? You need to get dressed.”
She makes a protesting growl in the back of her throat. “What time is it?” she asks, rolling onto her back and stretching her limbs out around her. Her tits threaten to break free from the rest of her body as they protrude unnaturally high off her bony sternum with the arch of her back.
Christ, she’s skinny as fuck. I shouldn’t be able to see the outline of every damn rib, but this chick doesn’t have any fat on her. Instead of fucking her last night, I should’ve force-fed her some carbs.
I look down at my dick.
Standards. Let’s re-think those.
In the morning light, she’s doing nothing for me. Nothing. I prefer soft women with hips and shape, who look like they eat more than a piece of lettuce for a meal. I’m also partial to real tits, as opposed to the cement filled ones I had in my mouth last night. I get it. It’s their bodies, and women can do whatever they want to them. But I don’t know a man who doesn’t have a preference. Mine just doesn’t happen to be hers. Even as this chick turns on her side, propping her head on her hand and gesturing at me with a crook of her finger, her tits dart out in the most unnatural way possible. Like they can defy gravity, or the opposite, sink her to the bottom of an ocean.
“Come here. Play with me,” her throaty morning voice attempts to bait me.
I shake my head, taking a step back to evade the hand she’s holding out for me. “Were you not present during our conversation last night? I told you, you gotta go first thing. Get up.”
She drops her hand to the bed. “Really? You’re going to kick me out right now instead of sliding between my legs?”
“I’d never kick a woman.”
“But you will spank her.”
I cock an eyebrow, staring down at the proud gleam sparking back to life in her eyes.
She thinks she has me as she waits expectantly for me to pounce, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
She never had me. I made sure of that.
I bend down, pick her pile of clothes off the floor, and toss them onto the bed, covering most of her body up. “Like I said, I’d never kick a woman, but I will carefully, but very efficiently, remove you from my house in ten seconds if you’re not out of here. Clothed or not.” I raise my wrist in front of my face, staring at my nonexistent watch. “Time starts now. I’d get moving if I were you.”
“Shit! What’s wrong with you?” she grumbles as she throws her body out of bed, fisting her clothing in her hands. “You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you? Throw me out half naked.”
“Obviously. I’m counting.”
She frantically slides into her skirt, fastens two of the buttons on her blouse, and clutches her panties and bra in her hand as she steps into her heels.
“Nice hustle. You might make it.”
“You’re a dick,” she scolds as she grabs her clutch off my nightstand and heads out of the bedroom. “What the hell kind of guy passes on morning sex?”
“The kind that specifically said you weren’t getting any last night. Two seconds.”
And the kind who no longer has any desire to fuck a skeleton.
She flings the front door open with a loud grunt, cranks her head around to glare at me, and flips me off.
I smile behind my coffee mug. “See, now this is why I didn’t fuck you this morning. My cock only gets hard for ladies.” I lean out onto the porch and watch her storm across the grass, fury in each step.
She hates me. Most of them do after our one night together. I don’t fucking get it. I’m clear, really fucking clear about not wanting anything to do with them the next day, and in the moment, they are more than willing to agree to those terms. But shit happens the next day with women. They forget all about our little pre-fuck chat, and I’m left throwing their asses out, looking like the bad guy.