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Does it matter? She doesn’t care. She’s the type who’ll agree to just about anything. And I don’t “invite” so much as drag her from her stool and tell her I’m fucking her tonight. She giggles in response, so
I wrap an arm around her neck and pull her close. I take her outside, one hand already inside her dress, fondling her tits. She has big ones. She’s hot. She’s everything I want in a piece of ass.
So why the hell do I feel numb?
I need to forget. I need to feel something other than that gnawing need I feel for her.
Not saying her name. I can’t even think her name.
When the blonde and I get to the nearest alley, I pull her inside and kiss her. She smells and tastes like cigarettes, and it only makes me feel less turned on.
I pull her closer to me, running my hands up her hard ass, delving my fingers into her pussy from behind so that she moans. “You like that?” I growl.
“Please,” she pants. “Fuck, right there.”
I rub her clit with expert fingers, making her gasp and buck against my hand. I used to love this. I used to fucking get off on this, on making women insane. I know I’m good at it. And now… Nothing.
Pushing her from my mouth, I tear open my pants and force her down on my cock. She descends to her knees and laps at it, eagerly. Licks the tip lightly, then deep-throats me with ease. From this vantage point, she almost looks like Juliet.
Stop. Can’t think of that.
Try as I can not to think of her, the second I do, it makes me instantly hard as a rock.
So I welcome the torture.
I allow myself to think of Juliet, naked in that necklace, giving me the best blowjob of my life. The way those big blue eyes looked up at me, wanting to please me… I think of those perky tits, of the smooth feel of her skin, the taste of her, those sweet little noises she’d made as I ran my tongue over each nipple. The taste of her pussy, the way I felt inside her, like I’d died and gone to heaven.
And fuck, I really shouldn’t be dwelling on her. She’s what I’m trying to forget. What I need to forget if I’m ever going to be sane again.
But I can’t.
Fuck.
I grab the blonde and pull her off my cock. She lolls back, surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I growl, zipping myself up. Everything. I help her to her feet, still a gentleman, despite everything. She grins, unsteady.
“Want to continue this at your place?”
“No.” I answer shortly. I head back to the street, and flag down a cab for her.
“Don’t you want my number?” she asks, but I just shut the door, and start walking, full of rage.
At Juliet. At myself.
No woman should have this kind of power over me.
I need to put Juliet in her place, once and for all.
In my bed.
