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That’s it. I grit my teeth and circle her waist, flipping us both around and pinning her on her back. I cover her mouth with my hand as I push her knees wide, spreading her open.
I fuck her hard and fast as my bed rocks, the floorboards creak, and I stare out the window behind my headboard. I just want this to be over.
I clench my jaw, the feel of her sweat making me feel like the walls are closing in. I want it off me.
I close my eyes.
I need out of this room.
Out of this house.
Out of the woods.
Off the mountain.
I don’t care if I ever see another fucking tree in my life, because maybe now that I’ve fucked every woman within fifty miles and can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore, I’ve reached the end of my rope and won’t be so chicken shit that I can’t stand up to my dad.
Nights are better. When I’m tired, and I just want some ass before I go to bed, but in the morning… I don’t wake up wanting to be where I am and looking forward to doing shit I don’t want to do. I’m bored.
In another minute, I feel her moans vibrate on my palm, her pussy contracts, squeezing my cock, and I grunt as I finish her off, forcing hard breaths in her ear, so she thinks I finished, too.
My skin itches where it touches her.
I remove my hand.
“I love the feel of your cum inside me,” she breathes out.
I didn’t come. And I’m wearing a condom, Dunderhead.
“Noah!” And I hear the baseball bat hit the log column downstairs. “Get up!”
I wipe my face with my hands and roll off Remi.
Fucking prick. A cool sweat covers my body, and I stand up and pull off the condom, tossing it. I pull on my jeans as I throw her T-shirt to her, but I can feel her eyes on me as she sits up. I need some goddamn air and some space to wallow in my shame.
If I can’t come even once, that’s unacceptable. I’m good in bed, goddammit. Women leave my room happy.
Not like the Boulevard of Broken Dreams that’s my father’s bed when they realize he only wants sex and not a relationship or Skid Row upstairs in Kaleb’s room where women are lucky to leave alive.
I, on the other hand, am really good at this shit.
Remi stares at me, a flirty smile on her lips like we’re supposed to make plans for next time or something, but I just dip down and give her a quick peck on the lips that hopefully says, “bye.”
And please, please be gone when I get back from the shower.
I turn around, grab a Bud from my little fridge, and leave the room, shutting the door behind me.
I twist off the top and slide it into my pocket. I’m gonna need a buzz this morning.
Carrying the beer across the hall, I hear footfalls to my right and look over to see Tiernan stomping up the stairs.
She sniffles, not really looking sad but frustrated. “So nasty,” she growls to herself, her voice thick with a sob. “I have… like chicken shit under my fingernails. So gross. Why is he so weird? Just buy your chicken at the store like everyone else, you know?”
My snort almost escapes, but I keep quiet. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I don’t want her to. She’s too damn funny, and I like watching her get pissed off. My only little ray of sunshine in this big ol’ shithole.
Although, I do sympathize with her. Cleaning out the chicken coops is no party.
“And it better be done good enough for him, because I’m not…” And she breaks into air quotes, “doing it fifteen times until I get it right.” She mimics my father’s deep voice and dumbass alpha orders.
