She rides my hand, her body thrashing wildly when I stroke over her clit with my thumb.
“Fuck me, Dixon,” she cries, rubbing her plump ass against my crotch.
“You’re a greedy, greedy girl.”
I hurriedly remove my fingers while she braces her hands on top of the dresser in front of her and bends at the waist, spreading her legs out wide. Arching her back, she pushes her hips out so her ass is on full display for my perverse pleasure. Bending my knees, I steady her waist with both hands and I push into her from behind.
The moment I’m sheathed inside of her warmth, my body has a mind of its own and my hips begin pumping into her with exact precision. I know this won’t take long because the harder I push, the louder she moans, which suits me just fine, as we’re both here for the same thing. The way she wiggles her ass, I know what she wants, but I’m in no mood for that type of play today.
Placing one hand low on her hip while the other cups her neck, I push down on her nape so her hips rise and I’m able to drive into her at a deeper angle because I can’t find my rhythm. I know she’s close, but I’m not, and I don’t know why. This is one of my favorite positions, but I’m just not with her. I piston my hips and reach up, tweaking her plump nipple, which usually gets me going. But today—nothing.
“I’m close,” she whimpers, her cheek pressed into the hardwood of my dresser, the contents rattling with each powerful strike I inflict on her softening body.
The moment her inner muscles squeeze my cock, I know she’s there, and she comes with a loud scream, her body shuddering around me. But yet I fruitlessly pump and grind into her, my release nowhere in sight.
Juliet is ready for round two, but my homerun is nowhere to be found.
“Babe,” she moans, her body slumping forward, my forceful movements almost making her one with the dresser.
Why can’t I come? My orgasm is tethering so close to the edge, but I just can’t get there.
Suddenly, Juliet’s locks are replaced with a head of lush, brunette hair, and her small ass is curvier and shapelier. I begin to envision my dick driving into a nameless brunette with large green eyes and plump rosy lips, her cheeks tinted a flushed pink. Her glorious tits bounce uncontrollably as I swathe myself in her warm, innocent body. Now this image is one that awakens my body, and I pull out before pushing back in, the sensual feel sending a jolt of pure ecstasy to my toes.
However, unexpectedly, the face is no longer faceless, and as she turns over her shoulder to look at me, I meet the sparkling green eyes of Madison.
Memories of her dancing, and the way her body moved to the music plummet into me, and as I imagine her soft, seductive voice echoing in my ear, I explode with a force so great, I almost collapse with the power of it. My body milks my orgasm, drawing it out until I am panting, gasping, Jesus, about to have a damn heart attack, as I’ve never come this hard before.
It takes me a full minute to come down and when I do, I meet satisfied blue eyes, instead of the sparking green ones I was envisioning.
“That was…wow,” Juliet gasps, her cheek marred with a pattern from the wood grain.
I smile half-heartedly and pull out, as her body suddenly feels cold and amiss. Disposing of my condom, I fall face first onto my bed and pray sleep overtakes me, burying my shame.
Thankfully, it does.
I wake alone.
Juliet is no doubt long gone, as I made it more than obvious I wasn’t in the mood for snuggling.
What the hell was that? Not once, not ever, have I had to envision another to get off. Even when I took Sharon Witherstone aka Shamu the Whale over the edge, my orgasm was brought on by the fact her shapely body was hungrily grasping my dick and milking me dry.
Tossing my blankets off, I reach for my cell and dial the only two people who can explain to me what the fuck is going on.
“You’re fucking like a woman.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, slightly offended, as I stare at Hunter over my coffee.
“You. Are. Fucking—”
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” I say, interrupting him. “But what does that even mean?”
“It means,” Hunter explains, waving his fork in my direction, “that you’re fucking with your mind, rather than your dick.” He finishes the sentence with his silverware pointing at my junk.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I cry, but holy shit—he’s right.
I’ve mentioned to both Finch and Hunter on more than one occasion that Juliet fucks like a man. She can fuck anytime, anyplace, just like a man. And I’m usually a hundred percent there with her, but this morning, I could only cross the finish line when it was Madison’s face and body I pictured driving into.
“There you go,” Hunter says, throwing his hands up in victory.
“That’s not possible,” I scoff, but it’s very possible.
It’s a well-known fact that most ladies fuck with their minds, while most men fuck with the head between their legs. It’s more of a challenge to stimulate a lady’s mind, rather than her G-spot. But if you can do both and you’re fucking her body and her mind, then you’re superman.
Sweet baby Jesus, I am turning into a woman.
“This is impossible. I mean, I’ve never had this problem before, and I’ve slept with some real…” I make a pained face. “But you’ve seen Juliet. She’s beautiful.”
“But she’s not the one you want to be screwing, obviously,” Hunter says around a mouthful of food.
I down my water, suddenly feeling sick.
“How does Juliet make you feel?” Finch asks, chewing on his fruit salad.
“Well, usually, she can make me come in five seconds flat.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he says, blanching. “Like afterwards. Do you talk? Snuggle?”
“Dude!” Hunter exclaims in disgust. “Next you’re going to tell me you and Heidi are on the same menstrual cycle!”
But Finch ignores him, and continues. “After the act is done, what do you feel?”
I think for a while, and reply honestly. “Nothing.”
“Exactly,” Finch says. “It’s just sex, Dixon. I’m not the professional here…” He looks at me with a smirk. “But do you think Juliet is just filling a…void?”
Hunter snorts, and I eyeball him, as I can only imagine what wiseass comment he’s about to say about me filling a void.
“Maybe all these mechanical hook-ups have started losing their appeal,” Finch continues. “And Juliet was the first woman in a long time that was something a little more than just a booty call.”
I nod because he’s right. From the first moment I met her, I knew she was going to be trouble. Could it be that subconsciously I was trying to fill that void? Was I trying to make something out of nothing? But that doesn’t explain Madison.
“I could have filled this so called ‘void,’” I say, making quotation marks around the word void, “with Madison, but I chose Juliet instead.” I’m interested to hear Finch’s thoughts.
“Sex is easy, Dix; it’s the relationship component that’s the hard part. With Madison, it’s obviously something more.”
“I hardly know her,” I pathetically rebuke.
“But from what you do know, you’re obviously attracted to her on another level. You must have some kind of…interest in her,” he concludes with a nod.
He’s right. The few times we have spent together, I found myself enjoying her company, rather than wondering if she likes reverse cowgirl or not.
“And this is what happens when you make your fuck buddy your girlfriend, Dix,” Hunter unsympathetically says as he salts his fries.
“She is not my girlfriend,” I state for the tenth time.