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It’s amazing to me the crap people write about me. They don’t know me. They see small glimpses of my life here and there. It bothers me that they would just make things up to sell their little magazines. When they stumble upon something tangible they can take a picture of, they have a field day.
I look down at my phone. Only a few minutes have gone by, but I get worried she’s too busy and might not be able to let me in. The door suddenly flies open, causing me to yelp like a twelve-year-old girl.
She pokes her head out. “Did you just scream?” She’s laughing at me.
Yes. “No,” I snort after clearing my throat. Her smile beckons me as does the wiggle of her finger calling me inside.
She chuckles and then rolls her eyes, the wild mass of hair flying around her head like a halo makes her look ethereal in the street lamp light.
“Hurry Hollywood,” she says. “Get in here before someone sees and both our asses are busted.”
The hint of Latina in the lilt of her voice stirs my blood, prodding my dick awake. Nothing is sexier than when she rolls those R’s. I take that back, hearing her purr and talk while we’re having sex is sexier, but’ I’ve not told her that. Yet.
Our relationship has been strictly sex. The conversations we have are shallow and are of your garden variety “How about the weather” topics. I can’t help that my fingers twitch wanting to latch onto her hips and hold her tight while I pound into her tight wet center from behind.
She knows who I am now, but that’s just about it. Neither one of us has ventured into anything deeper. This is okay because the less I know, the less I become attached. It’s a win-win situation.
Neither of us seems to be bothered by this. Having met her here at the bar surrounded by people imbibing to escape who they truly were, it seemed only natural. A no strings attached relationship was often desired by people but hard to achieve. Too many feelings got involved in sex. Not with me and Sophia though. It was all raw, hot, animal passion and leave your feelings at the door. No feelings here. No sir. And, if I have any say in the matter, that is how it’s going to stay.
The bartenders at The Spot wear denim and cut off t-shirts with the bar’s name on them. Tonight, Sophia has worn a tight little denim skirt, and it is taking all the strength I have not to reach out and grab that sweet ass. I bet I could strum the lace of her thong better than the cover band on stage right now. I groan as she walks in front of me. My eyes dancing over the natural, seductive sway of her hips. I can’t wait to push it up and screw her against a wall somewhere. I can almost feel her tight body wrapped around me. When I’m with Sophia, it’s one of the only times I can clear my mind without drowning it in a lot of alcohol. She’s the balm I need without realizing the impact she has on me.
She’s exciting and doesn’t take everything so seriously like Rosa did. Rosa was a very straight-laced, sex with the lights off kind of girl. The sex wasn’t bad, it was just . . . well, boring. Since meeting Sophia, sex has never been so good.
I shake away the comparison my brain has conjured. I really have to stop thinking about Rosa when I’m meeting Sophia, the two are completely different. It isn’t fair to them either. I loved Rosa once upon a time and what I have with Sophia isn’t love. It’s lust like a head-on collision I can’t keep myself away from. Of course, looking at her, I wouldn’t want to stay away.
I follow Sophia deeper inside the bar, watching as she looks over her shoulder and bites her lip. Her dark hair swings from her ponytail begging to be grabbed and wrapped around my fist. Yeah, I think it is high time that I forget about Rosa. Most definitely.
The music is thumping so hard and loud that I can feel it through the walls and into my chest. Even my cock feels the pulse and craves to be sheathed inside Sophia. We need to hurry this show up before I lose control and take her right here, right now.
