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I pulled her up to me, and thrust in one last time before I exploded inside her. I groaned loudly, my eyes closing and my head spinning as I emptied myself deep in her cunt. She milked my cock with her pussy, squeezing hard on my cock until it felt like she might tear it right off. When it was over, I collapsed on top of her, and we rolled off the couch and onto the floor, gasping for breath, the two of us spent.
I closed my eyes, washed in an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction, and waited for my breathing to settle. I could feel her hot body against mine, her limp hand lying gently on my chest, her breath against my shoulder. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but when I finally opened my eyes, she was fast asleep on the floor, hair disheveled across her pretty face. I pushed myself into a sitting position and let my eyes take her in, the nakedness of her making me want to turn her over and do it all over again.
I got up, leaving her on the floor, and made my way upstairs to my bedroom. I quickly jumped into the shower, turned on the hot water and closed my eyes. I felt my muscles slowly start to relax. Go slack. There was a short burst of pain in my chest, quick and piercing, that made me cringe, but I quickly shook it off as the water fell in waves down my body. With a fuck like that, it was no surprise I’d be this spent.
I stood there for what seemed like forever, then stepped out and dried myself off. The bed beckoned me to it, and without a second thought to the girl sleeping on the floor downstairs, whose name I had already forgotten, I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes.
I’d let Pauline deal with her in the morning.
3
Chance
If you don’t mind me saying, Mr. Ridder, you look terrible.”
I looked at Miles’s eyes in the rearview mirror and nodded. “I feel like crap, Miles” I said. “Thanks for noticing.”
“Long night?”
“Aren’t they all?” I asked.
The piercing pain from the night before hit me again, and I winced, my hand automatically reaching for my chest as if it could somehow pull the pain out and relieve me from it. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head spinning. The car had pulled away from the curb, and when I opened my eyes again, Miles was watching me instead of the road.
“Sir, are you…”
“Eyes on the road, Miles,” I said, gritting my teeth against another burst of pain.
“Mr. Ridder, are you sure –”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. My vision blurred, and I felt like the world had somehow dumped me in a large carousel that was going a little too fast. I blinked, trying to regain some sort of focus, and was greeted by shifting images and bright spots. The heaviness against my chest only intensified.
Am I having a fucking heart attack?
I laid my head back and gazed out the window, the buildings looking like silhouettes of varying shades of gray. I felt the car pick up speed and turn sharply.
“Miles, what are you doing?” I croaked.
“I’m taking you to the hospital, Mr. Ridder.”
I didn’t protest. The hospital sounded like a very good idea.
I felt better. Not much, but enough to wish I could light a cigarette and maybe get a drink. The walls around me were surrounded by posters of the human body and motivational quotes telling me that my health came first, everything else second. I scoffed when I looked at the fake smiles of the models in the pictures, the frozen “jumping in the air” glee that was a little too happy for my taste.
I need a drink. And a smoke.
The door opened, and I shifted on the bed as the doctor walked in, holding a chart in his hands and flipping through the pages with great concentration.
“Mr. Ridder,” he mumbled, frowning as he looked at my stats.
That can’t be good.
“How old did you say you were?” the doctor asked, looking at me from over the top of his glasses, his gaze making me feel like I was twelve again and being scolded for playing where I shouldn’t have.
“Thirty-two,” I answered. “Isn’t that in your chart?”
“It is,” the doctor nodded, flipping through the pages again. “The thing is, according to these reports, you should be fifty.” He looked up at me again. “Or dead.”
