My legs wrapped tighter around his body and joined at the ankles as I attempted to shift the pressure to stimulate my clit. Not that I hadn’t already orgasmed. But twice never hurt.
Sly’s grunts and groans filled the air as he drilled into me, a thin layer of sweat coating his back like he’d been running a marathon. We’d only been at it for less than five minutes, but his chest heaved with exertion.
I did my part in letting out small moans at the right times, digging my nails into his back. I was good at pretending to be super into it—I’d had enough practice at faking it over the years. Thankfully, Sly couldn’t see me rolling my eyes and glancing at the diamond Rolex I hadn’t bothered taking off when we got naked.
It wasn’t his fault I was bored. My head wasn’t in it—I was tired and stressed, more in the mood to be alone than to be naked and sweaty, but I’d hoped a good romp in the sheets would take my mind off the world around me.
Two more grunts and a slam later, Sly’s rutting was over. His body fell to a heap on top of mine and I allowed him around sixty seconds of caressing before I gave him the boot. “Alright, Sly, off.”
His gaze slid to mine as I stared up at him. He smirked, dipping down to kiss the side of my mouth, his dick twitching inside of me before he slid out. He rolled off my body and dropped onto the bed.
“Sorprendente,” he muttered, his voice soft. Bastard had already tossed an arm over his eyes as if he was going to fall asleep immediately.
I reached over to pull a cigarette off the nightstand and lit it up. The cherry glowed red as it caught, and I tossed the lighter aside. Filling my lungs, I let my eyes close as I willed myself to relax.
Anxiety crept into my chest, sitting heavily. No sooner had I inhaled a second puff, Sly pulled it from between my lips and stuck it between his.
This was our ritual. We fucked, played pass the cig, and we passed out.
Well, correction, he passed out. Some nights I laid there for hours until I fell asleep. Other nights, I left and went home.
It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being with Sly, because I truly did. He was great. There was nothing I could pinpoint that made me dislike him, which was why I couldn’t figure out why my feelings for him weren’t stronger.
Being with him was easy and secure. At all times, I knew where I stood with him and after so many failed relationships, a man like Sly was exactly what I needed. A great lover with a wicked tongue, easy on the eyes, and extremely compliant. Whatever I wanted, I got—the man had never so much as thought the word no when it came to me.
It didn’t hurt that he also looked hot as hell in his black jeans and leather vest. Just seeing him on his motorcycle, his bronzed skin covered in tattoos, his dark hair always combed to perfection, and the way he could wear a pair of dark aviators, was enough to get me wet.
I never would have guessed I’d be into the whole motorcycle club thing, but here we were. The best part—Sly never tried to lock me down. He took me at face value and never forced me to commit to a label I wasn’t interested in. I wasn’t his girlfriend; he wasn’t my boyfriend. The simplicity of our arrangement was what kept me from going stir-crazy.
Finishing the cigarette, I watched Sly peel the condom from his limp dick, knot it, and toss it onto the nightstand next to its wrapper. My face contorted as I outwardly cringed, grossed out that he just tossed it haphazardly onto the same surface he puts things like his phone on.
Andhemade fun ofmefor taking a disinfectant wipe to everything the second I stepped foot into his room. I wasn’t a germaphobe, but bikers—men—could be absolutely fucking disgusting.
I kept my mouth shut and made a mental note to wipe it down at some point while settling into the softness of the cotton sheets. As my eyes shut, I felt his hand circle my middle, and he pulled me closer. There would be no falling asleep for me. His body heat was stifling.
His arm draped across my naked tits, while he gripped my waist and tucked me into his body.Little spoon. All I could think about was rolling out from under his grasp.
Ihatedcuddling.
After what felt like hours, the steady rhythm of his breathing told me he was finally asleep. Peeling his fingers from my areola, I scooted my body away and silently placed my feet on the cool hardwood below. I sat for a minute, listening to the low snores as they fell from his lips.
I really did like the man, but there was just something lacking that I couldn’t put my finger on. Sly was all golden retriever vibes. And there was nothing wrong with that. Wasn’t that what most women wanted? A loyal, loving man who spoiled them? I should want that too.
Maybe the problem was me.
Retrieving my thong, bra, and the men’s button down I had worn as a dress today, I quickly got dressed, leaving the shirt unbuttoned. Grabbing another cigarette and my purse, I headed for the door. As I slipped through the crack just wide enough for my body, I lit up another smoke. The cherry was the only illumination in the dark hallway, and as the door clicked closed behind me, I leaned against it with my eyes shut, enjoying a drag.
“That shit will kill you, Rose.”
His voice made me jump, not realizing someone else was in the hallway with me. I turned my head to the right where his voice had come from, and watched him push off the wall and stalk toward my direction.
Stopping in front of me, he plucked the cigarette from between my fingers and carelessly tossed it to the floor, snuffing it out with the sole of his boot. “You need to fuckin’ quit.”
“And you need to quit stalking me, Cain,” I retorted, crossing my arms in front of my chest. His eyes trailed down my body, appreciating the swell of my tits, the curves of my wide hips, and the lack of thigh gap. All so different from the body of the girl he once knew.
The Rosie I had been…the Rosie I was…she wasn’t me. She was the shiny exterior I showed the world, but I was tired of being her.
While some old habits die hard (and are super challenging to let go of), I was able to control my body.
