Ain't Like It

I bore my gaze to the shades dancing on them. "Do your fuckin' worst. Keep proving to me how ESPN's favorite is legit trash."

"Fuck--!" he bursts, and gripped my throat tighter. It took a second to gasp before my breathing locked that I almost choked.

I was forced to look into his face, and what was there to his handsomeness somewhat shredded all what was angelic in it.

To the best of my ability, the only response I can give him is a glare. I made sure it could serve him straight to the grave if only it were. I struggled to fight off the tightness while he held one of my arms with his other hand, distracting me to optimize my oxygen.

He was heaving beet-red of his anger. I moved once more but it's a waste. His forearms were solid to have settled towards my neck.

When he calmed down, he loosened his hold a bit, giving me an opportunity to breathe. I hoarded the air like I'm gonna lose them again.

He pushed my back and thumped it on the wall. "Say one more thing, Perez, and I'd lose all of my patience."

I don't want to admit it but, I'm bone-deep chilled. Folding to it, however, is non-negotiable.

Judging Carson discriminately, he'll be more disgusted and will lose respect if he finds it weaker than expected. This motherfucker likes bending people to his will and earning them with it. At least, if something happens, I won't say I didn't even put up a good fight

He leaned and drew himself, my nose catching the smell of sandalwood around him. Steam of hot breaths fanned to my ears when he put his mouth closer. "If I knew better, I would've held it a little while longer and have you tied and whipped instead," he gritted, diverting back his hold to imprison both of my arms.

I wriggled, but he curled his fingers that what only came out was a wince.

Then a laugh broke out into the room, a laugh thrown at his face, a maniacal one, coming from me.

"Oh, I will have my say. Here's a thing, Carson. You learn from it, you carry on with that shit, and move on," as I cherry on top embellished this in a fucked-up smile, "grow up, dawg. Sympathies are given to the one who takes it up like sissy."

I heard his tongue reciting the thickest pronunciations to the strings of oath he could've ever known in his lifetime.

"I'm fucked if that's true! Not on a know-it-all banged cow getting herself into thinking she knows football!"

"Say what you will, it's better than a big piece of shit vomited from a horse's ass--"

It happened so fast that I yelped before knowing that he grabbed my hair and yanked it.

At that moment, his mouth locked mine, sucking me out of my air. My body recoiled by instinct but he had none of it. He held my arms hostage and shoved them back harder, and by the pang of it, I whimpered.

He took that opportunity to assault his tongue to mine.

Against my better sense, my body jolted. Becoming aware that what I have with me, is a mix of his spice, his hot and wet exhalations tinged with the thick malt he may have drank in his beer.

When that tongue wandered, my thoughts became inaudible. They ran askew, humming in tune to the vibration of my prickling skin down to my curling toes.

This wasn't mind over matter. My fucking body, seized the best of me.

Holy. Shit.

It kept going. He adjusted his angle, took everything in, toyed with it. He'll grab my tongue with his then have it tag along to a little dance play inside our conjoined mouths. There are moments when he'd explore deep, he'll leave my tongue alone as he plunges, further and further.

I made a shiver when he placed the tip of his tongue to the roof of my mouth and skims it over to my hard palate.

Before I knew it, my muscles relaxed. I can still feel his pressing arms knowing that it will leave a goddamn bruise. But I was overpowered by what was in front of me.

I was beside myself.

And fuck, why this?

My direction swayed to lean forward, and I began to feel that in every riff of sensations, every tingle brought by his contact made me just want to absorb it.

When I realized that I had my eyes closed and hanging to every bit of it, opening them again and meeting those depths reverted to a shattering reality.

His eyes flickered with tidal waves of multiple expressions inside those pools of Atlantic waters crashing, all at once, to my weakness. His forehead was furrowed and his breathing was heavy, processing what just happened, as much as I am. It didn't take long for me to understand that I wanted him.

For all that he is, I craved more of what he brought me into. I can suspend the reality that we are nothing good to each other except talking shit, and that we're both gone far off. I can suspend reality for a moment and just relish having sex with him.

My girlfriends shared these ideas with me about where to look when you check out a guy. That will be my receipt if I hear a thing or two about this.

But it could complicate things and I'm starting to hate him for it.

"Let go!" I ordered once again when the thoughts toned down and felt my arms begin aching.

He did let go, backed off to a far distance, and stood there. Not long after we were roughly wiping our mouths and sizing each other up.

"If I didn't take your mouth to how it benefits me, I'm not sure of what I'd do to you; clouding away from my sight."

My head whipped to a scoff. "Praise your sexual contact then. How would you want it settled?," I jabbed.

"What now?" came his rebuttal before giving me a derisive laugh, "say we should fuck?"

"Don't you want a better release than this?" spreading my now relieved arms in motion, "Who knows if that will clear your head from the PR shits you burden yourself with?"

Carson crossed his arms and shook his head. He kept them low and paced end to end in front of me as if contemplating something. "If you'd help me with it, I will forget your stunt in no time."

For a moment, my daze started to find its equilibrium, but neither reality can wash all over me completely out of trance. I watch him stand there, staring at him in a near blank.

"I'm sorry I can't help you with that, Carson. I won't compromise the integrity and the independence of my writing even if it takes broken bones along with it. That shit's past. My best advice is to get over it and, really, be better, what else?" became my soliloquy,

"But I'll give you a way with me. Access and control of my body, going as far as role-playing. You blame me for the bad things that happened to your life lately, and I blame you for inciting lust.

If we put that into the bargain, we'll settle this in bed: tie me up, blindfold me on it, whip me, bruise and sting my skin for some time, get rough, fuck me raw, fuck me hard, that's up to you."

"It sounded as if we're trading flesh, Beatrice," he rejoined. "Fucking you raw, however," he stopped for a second and dropped me a glance, "would be much palatable on my part than having you beaten black and blue."

"Be gentle, daddy," I blurted, parodying the sounds I've heard in porn. "Should that be supposed to scare me? You can have that converted in bed--only if you can ensure that I'm stripped and out of my virgin skin. And that you can promise a harder climax than my toys, how 'bout that?"

He stopped in his tracks and threw me a look. "You're a virgin?"

I gave him a nod. "Facts. If I didn't misread how you were the one to initiate that kiss, I'm sure you can stomach having me while we fuck time casting out that timid hymen, be my guest to pop it."

Then took a moment to lean my spine into repose after that shitty drama, zooming him out of my view. "Girls may have liked you for your big dick energy, you know."

He snorted to a stifled chuckle, "and so?"

"And so, I'm not any different from them." I started relaxing on the tabletop he put me while mindlessly swinging my feet.

I moved my head leftwards and looked ahead, "I won't deny it if I want to use you for the experience. Don't tease, airhead. You know you're hot. I want you. I don't know if you want me too, but you'll have my body in exchange. "

He didn't say anything. He looked in different directions, some were headed my way. He was still on his pacing until he exhaled and looked at me in resignation. "Your place or mine?"

"We're here," then tapped the tabletop, "put me down, will you?"

He made a face. "Can't you do it on your own?"

"No," I said, "since I wasn't really the one who put me here."

He let out a sound before coming towards me, "petulant bitch," he grumbled. "You bet I'll have that pussy soar. Railing you so fucking bad 'til it's tender you want it to stop," grounds his furious whispers up close, "but then you won't. 'Cause you'd still be wanting more with that insatiable swollen red cunt."

It somehow felt different when his grip grabbed me down. I've become keen on it.

Damn how it affected me.