Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)(17)
Turning around, I reach for the soap; just as my hand lands on the bottle, I feel a hand land on my shoulder. I look down and notice the perfectly polished, red fingernails.
“Chelsea,” I hiss out. It’s been awhile since I’ve slept with anyone. I have been trying to be a good boy and keep my dick out of everything with a hole, because it shamed me to associate myself with Kennedy while doing such disgraceful things. But right now, Chelsea’s hand was looking awfully nice along with her mouth which was turned up in a sneaky smile. She knew exactly where to find me. This interaction in this very shower stall has happened on numerous occasions.
“I want you,” she purrs. Her nails dig into my shoulders. Chelsea isn’t ugly; she’s beautiful in her own way. She’s no K, but she has something going for her.
“How badly?” I ask, tempting her. I want to see her beg. She knows how I like it, and I won’t give her shit if she doesn’t give me what I want.
“So bad… “she replies, gripping my cock in her hand. Her grip is tight just how I like, and I reach out to reward her with my touch.
“I’ve fingered myself with the image of you pounding into me from behind.” Of course she has, I know how she likes it too.
“Knees, now. I don’t have any condoms on me, sorry,” I say giving her a wink, hoping it’ll lower the blow. She’s never walked away from giving me a blow job, and I know she won’t now. A satisfied smile plays on her lips as she settles herself onto the tiled floor.
Her hand grips my balls, and I groan. Fuck, it’s been way too long. The moment she hears my groan, her lips descend over my dick. My hands grab her hair, and all I can picture is Kennedy’s sunshine blonde hair, and her blue eyes pleading with me to pump into her mouth faster. My eyes pop open immediately as I try and get the visions of Kennedy’s pink lips wrapped around my throbbing dick out of my mind.
Chelsea takes me deeper into her mouth, making sure to hit that spot I like so much. My fingers dig harder than needed into her hair as I pump with all my might. The blissfulness takes over as I feel myself floating, my legs tingling, and I feel above myself. I feel Chelsea’s tongue swirling over my cum as she chugs every ounce down. That alone turns me on enough to give one last push. But just as I close my eyes, images of Kennedy assault me again.
Then I realize Chelsea may have been giving the blow job, but I was thinking about Kennedy the whole time. Fuck, this girl has managed to get under my skin.
“Can you do me now?” Chelsea’s voice interrupts my high and I growl out in anger.
“No. I didn’t say I was going to give you shit in return. You snuck in here willingly and got on your knees for me. Maybe next time.” I give her a nice wink, hoping that will lessen the blow, but it’s doubtful. Chelsea is dramatic and I won’t hear the end of this.
“You mean to tell me I got you off and I get nothing in return?” She sounds as if she’s shocked such words came from my mouth, that she can’t even fathom me saying such a cruel thing. Meanwhile, in reality, there is no agreement stating I had to help her reach hers. She came here and immediately sank to her knees. When a woman sinks to her knees in front of me, I take it as an invitation that I won’t decline.
“You know the rules, Chelsea.” I was annoyed with her, beyond annoyed. I came here to lessen my stress, relieve my tension, but with her yacking, I was going to have to go back out there work my ass off again. Not worth the *.
“You know what this is about!” she yells. Her fingers dig into my shoulder trying to turn me to face her. I whip on her faster than expected, gripping her wrist tightly in my hand.
“Don’t touch me, unless I let you,” I snarl at her. Her face contorts in fear, and I release her wrist with a flick. Last time I f*cking allow her in here.
“This is about that Kennedy girl, isn’t it? I’ve seen you with her a couple times. Does she know you’re doing me on the side? She looks like a na?ve little thing, bet she’s not as aggressive as me. You take your little nun and have your way, but don’t call me when she’s not submissive to your dominate nature.”
Her spew of word vomit doesn’t affect me as much as hearing Kennedy’s name. We are not dating by any means, so technically I’m not cheating on her, but the fact that Chelsea noticed my interest in Kennedy makes me reevaluate my friendship with her. If I fall for her, it would be over, and I would be doomed.
I’m not capable of loving or giving my all to someone. It isn’t that I can’t keep my dick in my pants because I can, but I’m not emotionally stable. Sometimes I have nightmares, and sometimes I’m aggressive by nature. Having Kennedy is like giving a bear that’s been in hibernation all winter its first taste of fish after months of nothing.
One taste of her and I know I will destroy her. Hell, I have the potential to destroy her now. If I’m going down, I’m certainly not going to be bringing her with me.
“Dude, what the f*ck did you do to Chelsea?” my friend, Mike, asks across the shower stalls. I shake my head, running my fingers through my dripping wet hair.
“It’s more so what I didn’t f*ck,” I respond, getting out and wrapping a towel around my waist. No way am I going back to that now, not after the way she acted and marched out of here making a mockery out of herself.
“I would’ve f*cked her. Why would you pass that up?” His question hits me harder than I thought it would. The initial reason I passed up the chance is because I didn’t have a condom, but the more I think about it, the more I know it has everything to do with K. As much as I dread it, I need to go find her and talk to her.