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“This is all your fault. If you could just learn to behave, we wouldn’t have problems like this.”

It wasn’t like my dick could answer me. I guess it was less crazy that I could rationalize that portion of this weird encounter. Instead of dwelling on it, I rolled my eyes as I moved to turn on the shower. As soon as the temperature was just right, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and stood under the spray.

My hand had a mind of its own at that point. It wrapped around my shaft, forcing a hiss past my lips as I pictured the determined look on Allison’s face when I told her no to taking pictures of the shelter. Would she be just as stubborn when it came to the bedroom? She seemed like a woman who liked being in charge. Someone that I would like to break down, but only in the best of ways.

A groan worked its way out of my throat as my fist worked its way up and down my shaft at a faster pace. Fuck. All I wanted to do was see Allison in front of me, wrapping those pretty pink lips around the tip of my cock as I fucked her perfect mouth.

It didn’t take long.

There weren’t that many options in a small town like Maple Lane Falls, and it wasn’t like I would often make the effort to visit any of the nearby towns in order to get laid. People talked. No one needed to be in my business like that. But the moment my thumb rolled over my cockhead just right, dragging a thick string of pre-cum over my length, a sharp surge of pleasure shot up my spine. My balls drew up and with a low moan, I spilled my release over the bottom of the tub.

I gasped, doing my best to catch my breath, because I hadn’t had an orgasm that strong in a while. What was it about Allison that had done that to me? If she could make some self loving feel like that, touching the real thing had to be especially dangerous.

Keep away. That was what I needed to do. She was beyond dangerous and would break down every last one of my carefully constructed walls.

Chapter 7

Allison

It was strange how fast time seemed to fly by in a small town. There was much less to do, but with being new in town, I’d gotten so much exploring done. I liked that things were slow-paced compared to New York, but there was plenty to talk about. Everyone seemed to know everyone.

I’d stopped in to get my bi-weekly blow-out, a habit I’d happily maintained while I lived in New York. There was something special about being pampered in a salon chair and walking out with hair free of frizz.

When I was little, I had the worst problem with poofy hair. It probably had a lot to do with being brought up with so many upper-class kids. I was teased endlessly. When I hit high school, I begged my mom to take me. She’d finally agreed. It’s such a bad habit, but it makes me feel good about myself, so it couldn’t be all that bad.

“You got Truman MacIntyre to talk to you?” the stylist gushed. She fanned herself before she went back to styling my hair. “I’d give anything for that man to give me the time of day. He’s sex on legs.”

I could only smile. While I could agree that the man was attractive, that wasn’t what had me interested in him. It wasn’t what had me interested in most people. Whenever people talked like that, it brought me back to those days in middle school when I was not only teased for my hair but for my lack of interest in dating.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cute.” The words tasted wrong. No matter how long I’d been playing the game of pretending I was just like everyone else, it never got any easier.

It sucked feeling like I was broken all the time. After talking to a therapist, she told me about asexuality and how it was completely normal. Most people went their whole lives without realizing that was what they were. Not all asexuals were sex-repulsed, either. Some were more on a gray-scale and felt that with the right partner they wouldn't be—it didn’t make them any less ace.

It took a while for me to accept that the sexuality fit me, but I still hadn’t told anyone. When society teaches you that sex drives everything, you still feel like something is wrong. Like maybe there’s some miracle cure out there.

“Pretty cute.” The stylist snorted a laugh. “Are you blind? Oh, better yet, are you gay? I don’t know a single woman in this town who hasn’t drooled over that man at least once. Even the gay ones. You must be a special type of gay. I bet I know someone I could hook you up with.”

My face grew hot at her persistence. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to at this point. I’d been accused of it several times. What woman didn’t crave sex? She had to be into the wrong gender, right? That was the only thing that explained it.

“I’m not into women, but thank you.” Not that I thought there was anything wrong with that. Love was love and all that. One of my best friends back in New York, Gloria, was an out and proud bisexual. She dated far more women than men, and it never bothered me. She was always so happy, and that was what was really important.

The stylist only shrugged, finishing my hair treatment before letting me out of her chair. It was only two more days until the festival, the whole town was buzzing with excitement.

Decorations had been going up, and Maple Lane had more pumpkins lining the street than I’d ever seen in my entire life. The trees had almost completely changed from green to oranges, reds, and browns. There was a crispness in the air that you only got in the fall. A gentle breeze blew my freshly straightened hair into my face, and I pushed it out of the way just in time to see the man I’d just been talking about with the hairstylist being dragged down the street by Hector.

With the dog outside of his kennel, he looked so much larger. At least I knew he was all bark and no bite. There was a perk to having been to the shelter. And it looked like the giant beast of a creature recognized me. His ears perked up as he yanked at his leash, pulling Truman in my direction.

“Jesus, Hector.”

I laughed at Truman’s disgruntled face as the dog plopped to a stop in front of me, sitting and panting like he’d found something special, and was waiting for his reward. Since I didn’t have a rusted chain-link in front of me this time, I leaned in to pet the dog on its head. He whined happily before jumping up to lick me in the face.

“Hector, no. We don’t jump on people.”

I laughed and helped Truman lower the massive dog back to the ground.

“He’s okay. I’m surprised he’s happy to see me.”

Truman rolled his eyes. “Don’t start feeling too special. He likes anyone who gives him the slightest bit of attention.”