Page 10 of Savage Daddies
“I know,” replies the tall one. “Isn’t she just.”
“She’s ready to come,” says the blue-eyed one. “So hold off until she does.”
I close my eyes, grip the silk bedsheets until my fingers no longer have strength to hold them. I’m floating. It feels like my soul is leaving my body without the dying part.
Who knew sex could be this liberating?
“FUCK!”
The two watchers reach to grab my nipples, and it tips me over the edge. I release the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. It’s so intense that I don’t feel human. I’m the ocean on a high tide. I’m the wind blowing through the desert.
I’m the moon.
I’m the stars.
I’m the milky way.
I’m fucking everything.
Which is strange, because after sex, I usually feel nothing. I feel full, but not in a satisfied way. It’s like scarfing down a Raising Cane’s meal—some kind of fast-food junk that your body craves.
But you always feel disgusting after.
I don’t feel like that. There’s no panic. No rush to get dressed and get the hell away so I can leave before the guy inevitably does.
For the first time, I feel light. My stomach feels sated, and the paperweight feeling in my chest brings sleep to my eyes. It’s rare I get a good night’s sleep these days. Even melatonin pills can’t make me feel this relaxed.
I settle my back into the mattress and let it hold me. The three motorcyclists slip back into their pants, their figures blurred as my eyes lull shut again. Everything goes dark. Everything feels so peaceful. There’s no urge to leave and get back to the party, because my soul dances here.
Everything feels light, and my head feels like it’s in the clouds.
I’m seconds from drifting into a deep sleep when I feel one of them kiss my forehead.
2
POET
“Stripes.”
I stand the cue against the wall and take a sip of stout. It’s sweet, and I could do with a touch of sweetness on my tongue to begin my morning.
Some members prefer to start their day with a club whore appointment, but nothing sets the day up quite like an early morning game of pool—of which I’m already in the lead.
“Your turn.” Bullwhip taps me on the back and returns to the wall. Out of the three of us, he’s the one most inclined to wet his dick for breakfast.
But then we introduced him to stout and pool cues.
And a handicapped win.
Which he isn’t getting this time.
I line the cue up with a striped ball.
One…
Two…
BANG!
