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But tomorrow he’d be banging the bikinis, he wanted to say. “Sounds good,” was all he managed, as he touched her clit and felt her shiver beneath him. She came quietly; he followed a beat after. The dozed together for a little while, and when he woke up, she was asleep at his side. Perfect.
But when he tried to sneak out, she caught him at the front door. She didn’t seem drunk at all now. “Where you going, Dean?”
“I was all hopped up,” he said. “I thought I’d take my energy for a walk.”
She had a white silk robe tight around her body. God, she was pretty. He didn’t know what it was about her. The long black hair, full lips, the sad look in her eyes. He reached out and touched her face, and he felt a tightening in the pit of his stomach. The bikinis could wait until the morning. He returned to the bedroom with her, and he was surprised when she pushed him forcefully down on the bed.
“What we did before...” she started.
“Yeah?”
“That’s not really my style.”
He found himself interested. “What do you mean?”
She had cuffs in her hand, as if magically, and she dangled them in front of his face. “You want me to tie you to the bed?” he asked. He’d never played like that before.
“No,” she said. “I want to tie you down.”
His cock responded as if she’d spoken directly to it instead of to him. What was going on? He’d never even thought to do things kinky before. Most of the girls he dated were so young that simply the act of fucking was exciting to them.
“Are you game?” She put one hand on his dick. He was rock hard. “You seem game.”
“I was going out,” he said, to give himself a second to think.
She nodded. “I know. You were going out. Take off your shirt.”
He could stop this charade at any second. He could tell her she was over the top, rebounding, using him to get her aggressions out. But he took off his shirt anyway. He was proud of his six-pack, of the rippling muscles of his arms and chest. She put one cuff on his left wrist. He didn’t fight her. He could leave at any time, he told himself. She strung the chain through the headboard, and then put the cuff on his right wrist and clicked the lock shut. Dean tested his bindings, and realized that he’d have to take the bed with him now if he were going anywhere without her permission.
Connie continued, “You were going out, and then you were going to pick up some little sunscreen-scented sophomore and screw her senseless.”
Dean started to say, “No, no, I was just going to take a walk around the block. Clear my head...” but Connie put a hand to his mouth to quiet him.
She climbed on top of his body, her pussy to his cock through his pants, and he could feel her heat even through the layers of fabric. “And then you were going to go out again and pick up another one, a carbon copy, and fuck her just the same way. Does it ever get old for you, Dean?”
“How do you know all that about me?”
“You’re Dean. You’re legendary to Brad. He talks about you all the time. How you come out here every Spring Break. How you notch your belt with your kills.”
In spite of himself, Dean was flattered. Brad had talked about him. Of their frat boy crew, Brad had been the shy one. Picking up girls had never come easy to him.
“You never stick around long enough to see whether you actually could like a girl or not, do you?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Like, you don’t even remember me.”
He squinted at her. What was she talking about? “We just fucking met six hours ago.”
She sighed and undid his shoes and pulled them off, then undid the buckle on his belt and pulled his slacks down. He felt odd to have a woman undress him, but his cock responded the way it had when she’d talked of tying him down. He could not remember ever being this excited before.
“You’re as hot as you were in college,” she said, and then he thought back. Graduation. The party. He would have been twenty-two, and Connie would have been eighteen. Constance. He saw the pert brunette in his mind, remembered fucking her in her parents’ pool. Jesus, a lifetime ago.
“You were my first,” she said. “You always remember your firsts.”
He felt a pang. She hadn’t been important to him at all. A number. A notch. A nobody he’d used, like he used all the others. What was Connie doing now? He watched as she pulled the belt free from his slacks. What was the point of that? His pants were already off. She snapped the leather, and the pang he’d felt a second before turned to anxiety. What was she going to do?
Connie bent and sucked his cock. He groaned and rattled the handcuff chain. Metal on metal. He begged her with his hips.
