Cain’s flavor of the moment, Cherry something-or-other, giggled coyly, her bright red–dyed hair draped erotically across his cut abs as he leaned on his elbows to look down at her. Lips that matched her hair color were puckered around his cock, leaving garish red streaks as she pumped him in and out of her mouth, moaning like he was servicing her, instead of the other way around.
Reaching down, he grabbed a fistful of her hair tightly, letting out a low growl as her teeth razed his taut, tender flesh. Her ministrations became more vigorous, and Cain felt the inevitable tightening in his balls that told him the end was near.
“Don’t finish me,” he groaned.
Her fingers, clutching his ass like she was holding on for dear life, dug into his skin, and he sucked a hiss of breath through his teeth as his cock hit the back of her throat and his back arched off the mattress.
“In . . . your *,” he managed to grind out, releasing her hair and reaching for a condom from the pile on the floor beside them.
They were at Cain’s little fuck pad in the old Glenn River Distillery, fully decked out with an old mattress, pillow, candles that had mostly burned down to nubs, and said stockpile of condoms. Cain wasn’t exactly known for his discrimination when it came to giving and receiving pleasure, but he was fastidious about his safety. From the very first time he’d had sex with Mary-Louise Walker, not fifty yards from where he was right now, he’d never once engaged in unprotected sex. It had been a deal breaker for him many times, in fact, when a soft and willing woman offered herself to him and he found himself unprepared. But his carefully stocked love nest, tucked into a windowed corner on the second floor of the abandoned, castlelike distillery building, made such assignations a lot more convenient.
Cherry lifted her head and grinned at him, backhanding her messy scarlet lips as he jackknifed up and ripped open the condom, rolling it over his slick and straining erection before reaching for her hips and turning her around. With her facing away from him, he pushed her back forward and pulled her down onto his cock. She was hot and wet, quivering around his pole, and Cain clenched his eyes shut as his neck fell back in pleasure.
Keeping his hands firmly clasped on her hips, he pushed her away, then pulled her closer, sliding her back and forth on his slick cock until her gasps became moans and the moans became cries of pleasure. Pushing her forward to her knees and elbows, he rose up on his knees behind her and continued to thrust into her from behind, reaching forward to cup her swinging breasts and tease her tight, pierced nipples.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!” she screamed as her inmost muscles spasmed around him.
Once she had found her pleasure, Cain slid his hands back to her hips, holding her tightly as he hammered into her twice more before biting down on his lip and growling into the climax of his own orgasm, which he rode out, pushing gently into Cherry’s willing body until he was completely spent.
Reaching for the condom, he pinched it tightly before pulling out of her. Slipping it off his glistening cock, he tied a knot in the open end and threw it into the metal bucket near the foot of the mattress.
Cherry fell onto her stomach, and Cain sat back, leaning against the wall beside her, watching her back rise and fall with her panting. His gaze wandered away, and he looked out the half-shattered, grimy window that remained in the once-grand sill to his left, then took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
“Well, this was fun,” he said, smacking her ass to signal that it was also over.
She raised her head, propping it on her elbow and looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “Wait a sec . . . That’s it?”
No stranger to this particular conversation, Cain cocked his head to the side and opened his eyes wide, staring at her wordlessly.
She sat up, her gaudy lipstick smeared and cheeks still flushed from sex, looking at him like he’d just confessed to drowning puppies. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
“About what?”
“You want me to go? Just like that?”
He stared at her—at her angry face and bare breasts, bright pink from the bristles on his unshaven jaw. An hour ago, when he ran into her at the Gas & Sip, she’d seemed wild and edgy with her bright red hair and lipstick. Now she just looked . . . used.
He shrugged.
“You’re an asshole,” she said, grabbing her bra and panties off the dusty concrete floor and standing up to get dressed.
So I’ve heard.
He thought about saying I didn’t force you to come here. In fact, you practically insisted on followin’ me. And from all that racket you just made while I was fuckin’ you doggie style, I think you got as good as I gave. I don’t remember either of us makin’ promises. So what’s the problem?
But Cain knew from personal experience that that particular speech would, at a minimum, get him a slap across the face, so he didn’t say anything—just looked up at her, his face void of emotion, because, well, he didn’t feel anything. In fact, Cain had yet to feel anything significant when he flirted and fucked. He felt the same physical pleasure any normal, hot-blooded eighteen-year-old would feel, of course, but his heart remained unmoved, no matter how many women he bedded, and the list was long and ever growing.