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Perfect.
I picture Becky in my head. Long blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Tight leggings, crop top. Obnoxious laughter as she gossips about some poor girl in her psych class. It’s been a while since I’ve gone after a college kid. My restlessness starts to settle as I begin to plan.
Putting my phone down, I return my gaze to the store and wait for Paige to exit.
Once I make sure she is home safely, I’ll start my hunt.
“Oh god. Yes. Mick!”
“Yeah, you like that? You’re such a slut for my cock.” I grunt, thrusting forward. Veronica arches below me, shoving her ass back to meet each of my thrusts.
I really should feel bad about fucking her still while my obsession with Paige only continues to grow. But I don’t, I can’t. I need some outlet for this pent up sexual frustration. Looking down, I imagine what it would be like to have Paige writhing beneath me while moaning my name. The thought causes my cock to twitch and I thrust harder.
Panting, Veronica reaches between her legs and starts to rub her clit furiously. “Yes…I’m so close. Don’t stop.” I snake my hand around and grab hold of her throat, squeezing tight, her moans cut off by the pressure. With my other hand I slap her ass.
“You gonna come for me?” She nods her head the best she can, tears leaking down her face as I continue to slap her ass again and again in time with my brutal thrusts. “Good girl. Such a good little whore.” I feel her walls start to clamp around my dick. Knowing she’s close I pick up my speed, releasing my grip on her throat just enough to allow her to gasp in a breath before squeezing again. “That’s it. Come for me. Now.” And she explodes, her pussy spasming around me and shudders running through her body.
I don’t stop. I drop my hand from her throat and grab hold of her hips, wildly fucking her. Closing my eyes, my vision fills with Paige. Her eyes, her hair, her ass. Groaning, I thrust forward once more and release myself inside of Veronica, filling the condom with my cum. I quickly pull out and remove the condom, tying off the end and tossing it into the wastebasket next to the bed. A handy addition to the room so I can avoid awkwardly carrying around my ejaculation through the house, looking for the closest bin.
I look toward the bed and see that Veronica has collapsed onto her stomach, eyes glazed with post-orgasmic bliss.
See? I’m not that bad of a guy, I still give her the best orgasms of her life. Sure, I have to think of another woman to come, but at least I’m still a good fuck. And that’s all our relationship is anyway.
“I gotta head out.” Veronica lifts her head and stares at me. I don’t know if I quite like the look in her eyes, she almost looks hurt. “That was fun.” I gesture to the bed in hopes that the reminder lifts her mood. I might like to inflict pain but it’s purely physical. Outside of toying with my victims, I’m not into emotionally damaging folks if I can avoid it.
Rather than bring a smile to her face, my comment darkens her mood further and a scowl forms. “That was fun.” She repeats, sarcasm dripping from her tone.
I arch a brow at her.
Did she not enjoy herself? Could have fooled me.
“You used to stay with me after. At least for a while. Now you bolt the second you finish. You know I like being called a whore in the heat of the moment but that doesn’t mean I like being treated like one.” Sitting up, she pulls the covers around herself.
I stare at her in shock. My mouth opens, then closes. After several long moments of tense silence, I manage to get out, “I thought this was just about sex? I mean, that’s all we’ve ever agreed to and it’s not like we really know each other. Or want to get to know each other.” I grimace as the words leave my mouth.
Oops, wrong thing to say.
She bolts out of the bed, clutching the blanket tightly around herself. “You are an asshole.” She hisses before storming into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.
I stare at the closed door, debating if I should go in after her. She probably wants me to, wants me to chase her and show more of an interest. But that’s crossing a line, because I don’t want to get more involved. Not with Veronica at least. Letting out a heavy sigh, I turn to the other door leading out to the hall and make my way toward the exit as I pull on my clothes.
I’m going to need to figure something out soon or my hand and I are going to become very well acquainted again.
This is a bad idea.
I’ve had the same thought at least a dozen times within the last twenty minutes. Yet, here I am still. Grumbling to myself how much of an idiot I am, I exit my car and start toward the apartments.
I know Paige isn’t here. I followed her to a friend’s house and watched as she climbed out with a bottle of wine in one hand and a stack of DVDs in the other.
Who still watches DVDs anyway?
I couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the reason she’s not just using a streaming service. That intrigue is what’s led me to making yet another careless action. I’m not usually this irrational but every time I think of her, the pull to know her, to take her, to claim her, grows stronger until I can’t think straight.
Striding up to the lobby entrance, I walk in behind a young couple who are too distracted with each other to notice my presence. I’ve found the key to getting into most spaces is to act as if I belong there. People cater to confidence and will do just about anything if you emanate the right aura.
With that in mind, I stride toward the elevators and press the button to reach the third floor. Paige lives in apartment 307. I know this as I stole a piece of mail she had sitting in her car while at work. It was too tempting and easy to pass up the opportunity, and now I am being rewarded for my innovativeness. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open. As I make my way down the hall to the door labeled 307, I discreetly pull out my lock pick and tuck it up into my shirt sleeve. Once in front of the door, a quick glance down each end of the narrow hallway shows I am alone. I make quick work of the simple lock and stamp down the anger that rises at how easy it is to break into her home. It’s in my favor right now, but I will need to do something to ensure I’m the only one who gets to slip in and out as they please.
Stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind me, I take a moment to look around. The space is rather small, just larger than a studio with a small bathroom and bedroom tucked away to the left of the doorway. The living room, if you could call it that, sports enough room for a small couch and TV stand. The carpet looks to be at least a decade old with fraying ends and various stains spattered around.
