Three Weeks on the Road Ch. 16 Pt. 02

The staff - whichever ones were left from when I'd walked out - avoided talking to me, looking at me when I walked back in and headed to the bar. I sat heavily on one of the stools, and couldn't find a reason to switch from scotch. I sipped on some horrendous Red Label and played with my phone and tried to avoid thinking about the last three hours. Or the next dozen.

I wasn't going to go back up to the hotel room, not until Jessie was gone tomorrow. We'd have words tomorrow night.

I had no fucking clue where I was going to sleep tonight.

Probably the Suburban. Wherever that was. The hotel had my truck. And my keys.

So I sat, grief and pain and rage chewing on my heart like a police Malinois dog. Rage at Jessie, pain for the way she'd unraveled our life together, grief for the sight of Tori, the life I'd used to lead. The life that was over and never coming back. Grief for my dead friends, for the rifle bullet that had destroyed my arm. Tonight I even missed my old teaching job. I missed Sienna. I missed Jessie. I wanted to hold her pale body in my arms until I fell asleep.

I wanted to make her believe I still loved her.

I wanted to hurt her for threatening me, for forcing me into a meeting with Tori.

I wanted someone to walk through the hotel door and shoot me in the head, just to make the pain go away.

"Hey there, sailor." I looked to the left as McKenna hiked herself up on a stool. "Whatcha doing?"

I gaped at her. She'd changed out of business clothes and into something... Else. A fuchsia sheathe dress, to be exact. Black and purple striped stockings disappeared under the short hem, and a stylish leather backpack rode her shoulders. Her mane of cocoa hair had been piled up in a messy bun that tumbled locks down her back and around her face. And her makeup was impeccable, glossy, colored lips, dark sparkly pink around her eyes, lightly rouged cheeks.

I shook my head at the vision of - sometimes bratty - beauty and turned back to my scotch. "Drinking. You?"

"Going out looking for a fun time."

I drained the abusively harsh drink and set it down with a clatter. "Have fun."

"Wanna come with me? I'll buy the next round."

I contemplated the empty tumbler and my own sobriety. Not incapacitated yet. "Sure. Why not?"

I paid my tab and followed the little programmer out into the warm night air. She walked confidently with a long stride, and I hurried to keep up with her. She slowed down as I reached her, and after a moment, reached out to take my left hand. I shook off her grasp, and we kept walking. "Got somewhere in mind?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yeah, I would, Mickey."

"Then yeah, yeah I do."

"And do you know how to get there?"

She stopped and turned. "Do you have anything better to do tonight than follow me?"

She had a point.

The night was cooling and the humidity was settling, a warm but sticky feeling that was slightly alleviated by the errant breeze that occasionally navigated down into the metropolitan labyrinths. The city had turned black and dark blue, acidic orange streetlights illuminating harsh cones of pavement, storefronts and neon signs eye-hurtingly bright in the gloom, high above windows shining softly as minimum wage workers pushed carts between cubicles and hotel rooms. Bars bumped the latest rap tunes, and conversations drifted to me half-formed as we passed hurried knots of nightlife moving between the lights.

We walked into the very modern lobby of a towering, multicolor hotel, walked past deep, soft furniture and wait staff waiting to serve us under dim, spidery LEDs, and took a metal and glass elevator up, up, up. McKenna fidgeted the whole way.

The rooftop bar looked and felt like it was about eighty stories up, and it surprised me that there were still buildings rising up around us. The bar was built into an overhang of metallic roof, chairs around a lighted bartop, the darkened interior looking like some kind of undersea grotto. Orange LEDs lit shelves of expensive booze, and pretty girls wearing pencil skirts and white button-ups and black vests filled glasses or shook shakers or dropped cubes of ice into tumblers.

We took seats at the bar and the tiny brunette started scanning the bottles. "What were you drinking before?"

"Shit scotch. Why?"

She waved over one of the bartenders, a redhead who looked like she was right out of college. "What's your best scotch?"

She brought over a green bottle with a white and green label. "La - Laf - Lafra - fuck if I know," McKenna read off the label. "Two, on my card." She lithely shrugged out of her backpack and retrieved a credit card from an interior pocket, handed it to the bartender, and then we took our two sweating glasses of amber liquid to the roof's edge, stared out through the chest-high glass wall at the night-darkened city lit with specks and spots and streaks of orange below.

The scotch was cold and tasted even more like seawater and smoke than the last glass. We both coughed at the same time, and McKenna laughed small.

"Why don't you like me?" she asked eventually.

"What? I do like you."

"Bullshit. You constantly treat me like an annoyance, and you won't call me by my nickname like everyone else. You know I hate to be called Mickey."

"You constantly act like an annoyance, and no comment."

McKenna cocked her hips and gave me a cute little giggle. "But that's my personality. Bratty but adorable and precocious."

"Can't be a brat and not expect to be treated like it."

"Is that why you like spanking me? You want to put me in my place?" Her voice was taunting. And lusty.

"No, I just like spanking women in general."

"And calling me... Mickey?"

"One of my best friends ever was named Mike. I grew up with him, played basketball with him, committed crimes and saved a life with him. Those guys I killed, they crushed his skull flat on a highway in Minneapolis. Every time I say the name Mike..." My voice trailed off and I remembered the pound pound pound of his basketball on my driveway, the way he loved to dress like the Lone Ranger at every holiday where dressing up was appropriate. Fuck, now I was depressed about another dead end in my life.

"Oh. I'm... I'm sorry..."

"You only get to be sorry if you could've stopped it."

"You're an asshole, Gary."

I drained the whiskey, didn't taste it. "Yeah well. I've had a bad day."

"I know, I'm sorry." There was uncharacteristic sincerity in her voice. "What are you going to do?"

"Eh. Go back to the hotel tomorrow, wait for Jessie. Explain to her that being with Tori would actually be cheating on her and I didn't do it."

"All the women you've had sex with, on this trip alone, and Tori would be cheating? Bullshit."

I was drunk enough to admit it. "It'd be cheating because I still love her."

Quiet for a long time as we watched clouds roll down the mountains and style over the edge of the city far away. McKenna said "Oh" very softly.

"So why are you out and about tonight?" I asked when McKenna returned with fresh glasses.

She sighed. "I'm not gonna stay in the same room with Jessie when she's being irrational like this. Alternately raging and crying. Plus I'm pissed at her too. She was a bitch to you. I'm not going to stick around and be supportive."

I chuckled harshly. "Thanks."

"So I decided to go out, get a hotel room, get a few drinks, maybe dance on a few good looking guys, just generally be young, irresponsible, and pretty."

"And then you found my depressive ass."

"And then I found your depressive ass."

I sipped on the scotch. This was not bad. "So get going then. I'll pay this last round and you go have fun. No reason I should ruin your night. Just stay away from those Brotherhood assholes, ok?"

McKenna sighed. "I ain't going anywhere. It's too late now. Nah, I'll get a room here, crash, and hopefully get back into the hotel room with you guys tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan."

"You wanna stay here, with me?" She asked me hesitantly, like she was afraid of the answer. "It beats finding a park bench or an alley or walking around until nine in the morning or whatever you were gonna do."

I thought about it. She was right. Staying here would beat all of those choices. I laughed. "If you'll have me."

"I will."

We drank and watched the skyline for a long time, and then I followed McKenna to the bar, and then to the elevator.

She reserved a room in the lobby, and the waitstaff gave us weird looks the entire time. She looked like a glamorous porn star. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and looked a lot older.

The room was gorgeous. Several dozen floors up and facing the downtown, two massive windows dominated the overwhelmingly white living room. White carpet, white walls and ceiling, white curtains pulled back to expose the night sky, white chairs before each window and a white sofa in front of the widescreen TV. The bedroom was right next door, closet and end tables of dark wood, white bed, white walls and floor, and another gorgeous view of the city through floor-to-ceiling glass. Sticking my head in the bathroom I found white marble and gold fixtures. They were really playing up the minimalist elegance here.

McKenna was flipping through channels on the tv when I came back out to the main room. "I'll take the couch tonight," I told her.

"You'll go take a shower," she replied. "You smell like a day's worth of sweat, and they'll probably charge me for the furniture if you stink it up."

Couldn't argue with that.

I shut the door to the bathroom, marveled that the hotel had even thought to hang bathrobes on the door, undressed, and spent a long time contemplating my reflection. For the first time in a long time I felt unmoored. Like my life was coming apart. Jessie had been the glue that put my life back together, and Tori had been the solvent that released it. And for no good fucking reason.

Dammit.

I showered under scalding hot water, scrubbing my skin near to raw. Angry at Jessie, angry at Tori, angry at myself, angry at the world, I punished myself with the only source of pain I had available.

I toweled off, dressed in my boxers and one of the bathrobes and walked back out into the living room. "All yours, Mick - "

Oh.

McKenna was lounging in one of the chairs by the window. She'd taken her dress off.

The stockings were clipped at her upper thighs with garters, connected to a black lace belt around her waist. Over the skinny straps she wore a skimpy black thong and up above, her full breasts were supported - not covered - by a quarter-cup bra. She had her hand between her spread legs, rubbing slow circles over her feminine mound, and when she saw me, she continued a moment longer before rising and sauntering over.

"So this was your plan all along."

"Nope, just when I saw you drinking alone."

"Mickey, I don't think this is a good idea."

She stroked a warm, slim finger down my chest. "Fuck me like I'm her."

"Who? Tori?"

"No. Jessie."

I gritted my teeth. "That'd be a bad idea."

"Why? You don't want me after all?"

"No, because if I fucked you like I want to fuck Jessie right now, you would NOT enjoy it"

"Oh no, why is that?" Another finger traced from the notch in my collarbone down to my navel.

"Because you do NOT like pain. And if I were fucking her tonight, I would be ROUGH."

McKenna stepped closer. I could feel the heat of her, smell the hint of perfume and the dark musky smell of her arousal.

"But I do want that...daddy."

She was in her late twenties, but hearing the word "daddy" come from the mouth of someone who looked so young, and who was dressed so scantily almost turned my stomach.

"I do want it," she continued, voice low and dripping with lust. "I want to see you without any inhibitions. I want to see your demons come out. I've loved your strength, your power when you've fucked me... Now I want to feel you let loose. What you do with your strength when you lose control..."

"No."

"Please daddy... I'll be a good girl for you. I want it sooo bad. You can do whatever you want to me, I want to give that to you... You deserve that after how badly your other sub treated you..."

Ok, that made me fucking mad. I pushed her back with a hand on her throat. Left it there. McKenna raised her head defiantly and stared me down, even as her nostrils flared with effort to breathe. "Don't. Don't you fucking dare make this about Jessie and me. That is our fucking life together, it's none of your business."

"Or what?" Her voice was thick, forced past my hand. "You'll punish me?"

I let go of her throat, and she knelt instantly, crawled sinuously to my leg, nuzzled her face against my thigh. "You'll punish me? You'll give me that discipline I SO desperately need? You'll treat me like the bad girl I am? I know you want to. I want it too...I want to see what my best friend has every night at home and what she threw away tonight."

Thrown away.

Motherfucker.

I hauled McKenna up by the messy fall of hair down her back, made her twist and wince at the points of pain biting into her scalp. Then she saw the look in my eyes, and her lips curled slightly to a grin.

"You want this?" I growled, pulling her hair harder, forcing her to her tiptoes, making her yelp.

"I do, daddy...my cunt is so wet right now... Give in, daddy...let go..."

Dammit.

I tugged her along by her hair until we stood next to the sofa. She looked up at me uncomprehendingly as I released her hair.

"Bend over, bitch."

She gasped and did as she was told, folding herself over the arm of the couch, round bottom lifted perfectly for my hand. I tugged down the silly little piece of string she was wearing for panties, balled it up and held it in front of her mouth. "Open and bite."

McKenna did so, a shocked look on her face even as she obeyed. She had her arms stretched out in front of her on the couch, and I pulled them roughly to her back, tugged the terrycloth belt from the robe, and tied her wrists together. Not some stupid wrap-once-and-a-knot tie.

I tied her up.

And she knew it too. She pulled at the tie, fought her bonds, couldn't maneuver free. I pushed her legs wide open and stepped back for a moment, enjoying the sight. I might be angry at her, at Jessie, at Tori, at the world, at myself, but the sight of the small, struggling, barely-dressed woman bent over the couch waiting for my hand or my cock gave me a painfully hard erection.

I was gonna enjoy this. Enjoy her body. Enjoy using her to get off. Enjoy hurting her.

And I didn't give a shit if she did or not.

I stepped forward again and brought my hand down on one firm, round cheek. It rebounded from my touch and McKenna gasped through the panties stuffed in her mouth. I smiled and leaned forward, left hand steadying me on the couch, and started spanking her. My hand cracked against her upturned bottom over and over again as I reddened her soft skin. She moaned quietly at the rapid claps of impact. I hadn't started off hard, this was warm up.

I paused, stroked my hand down between her thighs, felt the wetness on her little, puffy nether lips. She couldn't deny it, she was turned on by this. I pushed one finger into her and she shifted, lifting her ass up, trying to take me deeper. Another finger and she groaned as I pumped back and forth in her soaked box. "You do like this, Mickey."

Her glare was angry, even as she shifted luxuriously against the arm of the couch, grinding her pubic mound against the white fabric. I withdrew my fingers and wiped them on her cheek, leaving a glistening smear. "You say no, but your hole says yes."

With McKenna's ass lifted and her legs spread as wide as they were, it was easy enough to angle a swat at her pussy. She yelped as I spanked her sensitive privates, eyes going wide. Her legs snapped shut and I jammed a hand between them and wrenched them apart. "Spread your legs or you'll be sorry."

She believed me. I landed a few more slaps to her swollen pink vulva before returning to her ass, harder this time. Before she been still, making little moaning noises and generally luxuriating in what had been a rough massage of her gluteal muscles. Now she bucked with each hit, shrieking through the gag in her mouth with each loud impact of my hand against round bottom.

Another brief interlude where I gave her time to calm down, another pause where my fingers sought out the depths of her twat, making her sigh and twist. This time when I withdrew my slippery digits, I wiped the liquid across her dusky brown star, causing it to clench. She looked back hopefully at my touch, eyes widening when she saw my hand pulling back.

McKenna's shrieks were loud even through the makeshift gag, and I turned her head roughly towards me. "Quiet, whore. Understand?"

Her nod was pitiful, and I alternated slaps of her cheeks, occasionally throwing in a strike against her plump pussy. She couldn't stay quiet for those, squealing high pitched and loud with eyes closed and a grimace on her lips. The grimace was cute, and arousing, especially with the lace hanging out.

I stopped when I saw bruises beginning to form, dark red on top of pink.

I reached down and pulled her panties from her mouth and she gasped, swallowed a few times, looked up at me worriedly. "Was that what you wanted?" I asked.

That earned me a hesitant nod.

I trailed my fingers along her back as I walked around to her lifted bottom, knelt between her spread legs. She had to be worried about what I was doing back here.

I stuck my tongue in her cunt.

McKenna thrashed and moaned as I made out with her pussy, nibbling downward to suck on her clit, kissing back up the inside of her leg, probing the depths of her soaked tunnel as far as my tongue could reach, then licking up to rim her brown asshole. Over and over again, until neither of us could tell whether the wetness inside her and between her thighs was my saliva or her vaginal juices. She kept up chants of "oh yes" and "oh fuck" as I ate her out, twice burying her face in the couch cushions to scream through an orgasm, legs stiffening and then shaking on either side of my head. I had to reach around to grab her ass to hold her in place as she writhed.

When I was satisfied with my handiwork, I rose and gave her upturned glutes another stinging slap, then knelt by her head. Her body was flushed pink and covered in a light sheen of sweat, heart hammering like she'd just run a marathon. McKenna raised her head weakly to look at me, a little string of drool connecting the corner of her mouth and the couch cushions. "Oh wow."

I seized her head and pulled her into a kiss, forcing my tongue roughly into her open mouth to press against hers, then dragged her off the couch and to a kneeling position. Towering over her, I pulled her face to my boxers. The little brunette grinned up at me as she rubbed her cheek against the very prominent silk-clad erection, and I let her nuzzle for a moment before pushing the robe back, pushing my boxers down, and holding my member out for her. "Untie me," she whined, twisting her wrists behind her while staring at my prick with ill-concealed joy.

She looked up with a wonderingly smile when I gave her face a light slap. "Not yet."

"Meanie." McKenna made a valiant effort to begin the blowjob, leaning against me, angling to lick and kiss and nibble my shaft, putting her soft lips around the head and pulling back teasingly, holding me in her mouth and snaking her tongue along sensitive skin. It felt like she was trying out every technique she could think of to stimulate me.

I just wanted to fuck. Alcohol and depression and anger were doing laps through my circulatory system and I just wanted to wear myself out in the process of wearing someone else out. A fistfight would've been better, but I'd take fucking McKenna senseless.