Fucking lie.
Every second with her was incredible… completely different, but incredible. Those gasps, whimpers, the way she clung to my body, her taste, how she shook like she was breaking just for me.
She didn’t complain. Didn’t even whine when I tested her to see if she’d let me finish despite the pain. Didn’t ask for anything. Just gave. Like a woman should.
First girl I didn’t want to skull-fuck until she tapped out. First girl I wanted to kiss when I finished, but couldn’t indulge. Not with her. Too fragile. Too clingy. Fuckin’ desperate.
But if I say any of that?
She’ll never let go. Girls get so hooked on my cock. It’s a problem.
Her tears fall. Silent, fat streaks rolling down her round face.
Goddamn, that’s making me hard. Uh, I can’t look at her. Not like that.
So I mutter, “Jesus, Charlotte. Grow up. It was a pity fuck. I thought you were cool.”
And then I hear it. Her footsteps.
Fast. Light. Fleeing.
Bedroom door.
Click.
And I stand there like the bastard I am, wishing I would go knock... if only just to fuck her once more, or…
Don’t think like that, Grayson.
I sigh heavily, her pain rubbing off on me. That was god awful. It had to be done, though.
Now, I need a beer.
An hour later, and my buzz is quieting the guilt. I lay down on a lounger next to the pool.
Brax looks down at me and laughs. “Hold down the party, bro.” He gestures to his phone. “Gotta make a run.”
“Will do.”
It is a great party, too. TV blaring on the patio, good game on. This is nice. Everyone is here.
Lots of eye-candy, too.
Especially my girl, Meghan. The woman that never clings, just appears when I need her. Like now.
She sways her hips as she walks to me, fresh beer in hand.
“Here, baby,” she purrs, then straddles my lap.
Hell yeah, nowthisis what I need. Her tattooed arms complement her bad girl look, and that black, jaw length hair. A modern day Cleopatra. And God, that ass. Such a nice bubble butt. I give it a squeeze.
A flash: Charlotte, naked under me with that worried look. The fear. So addictive. I took her. Couldn’t resist.
I shake my head, trying to bury that memory for the hundredth time.
Damn it, Grayson. It’s been weeks. Let it go.
I opt for my default. Flirt.
