Folsom (End of Men, #1)(12)
SEVEN
FOLSOM
My job is simple. Intellect is not needed when you’re fucking your way through an entire Region of women. There are days when I long to have a meaningful conversation, to discuss, and dispute, and have my voice mean something to this corroded world we’re inhabiting.
I shower again before I meet Gwen’s sister, Sophia, in her bedroom. The water runs over me and I’m given a reprieve from the constant looks and touching. There is a stark contrast between the two sisters. I wonder if they get along or if the tension I felt is real. Where Gwen is quiet and introspective, her sister is talkative and social. The type of woman you kiss just to shut up, not to actually enjoy it. A servant directs me to her room. I knock once and she opens the door wearing only her underwear and a pair of heels so high they look fucking painful.
“Come in, Folsom.”
They like to say my name. It makes me feel like a fucking dog. Come in, Folsom. Sit down, Folsom. Eat this, Folsom. She turns on her heel and I’m given a view of the tightness of her body.
I step past her and I’m immediately hit with the heady smell of lilies. I smile to myself when I see the various flower displays across the room.
“It stinks in here,” I say.
Sophia bats her eyes, uncomprehending.
“The lilies.”
“Oh! Do you want me to have them removed?” She heads to the door to summon someone when I stop her.
“No, don’t bother. I won’t be here long.” It’s meant as an insult. I don’t like the games she was playing with Gwen, but when she walks toward me, I can tell it’s gone straight over her head.
“Well, I certainly hope you’re staying for a little while at least…” She trails a finger across my chest as she heads for the bar. “A drink, Folsom?”
“No, I’d prefer to get started,” I say.
I don’t need to be drunk for this one. I drink when I feel too much—good or bad—and only then.
She looks mildly disappointed. I’m used to this—the women expecting to be entertained socially before we have sex. It’s like a courting ritual I don’t care to play. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. Sophia sets her drink down and begins to touch me. I stand still as she takes off my clothes, first unbuttoning my shirt and running her hands across my chest, then cupping me through my pants to feel if I’m ready. I am. The pill I took at lunch only needed an hour to stiffen me up again. The women are unaware that we take pills. It’s a joke among the End Men that women think we are always hard and capable of fucking once an hour. Even Jackal, who brags that he hardly uses the tiny blue pills, laughs along with us.
Once Sophia has confirmation that I’m hard, she smiles slyly and leads me over to the bed. A bed covered and draped in silk. She makes a show of stripping off her clothes, running her hands across her bare skin to entice me, and then walking over to suck on my fingertips. I let her suck while I unbutton my pants and try to engage my mind in what we’re about to do. Focus, Folsom, fucking focus.
“I’ve had female lovers,” she tells me. “I know how to pleasure a woman, but I want you to show me how to pleasure a man…”
Jackal would be so much better at this than I am. I grimace when she turns her back, sashaying slowly to the side of the bed and beckoning me closer with her finger.
She is beautiful; her blond hair hangs across her breasts, which are full and perfect, the nipples a deep rose. I’m familiar with the shade of rose because of all the fucking flowers in all the fucking bedrooms. She stands on her tiptoes to reach my neck where she kisses me softly, moaning like it brings her pleasure.
“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees,” I say, my voice low. She casts a coy look over her shoulder before doing what I say.
I take her with a singular anger that on any other day I would not have allowed to reach the surface. She seems to enjoy it, crying out in pleasure each time I slam into her, her back arching and her head twisting around to watch me. I can see every inch of her, the erotic folds of her pussy, the way it looks like it’s grabbing onto my dick when I pull out, trying to keep me inside. But, I’m not thinking of her, I’m thinking of Gwen. Gwen, who wrapped her body around me like we were doing more than just fucking. I felt more intimacy in those moments than I have in years. I pull out of Sophia, moving her onto her back. She spreads her legs for me and I settle between them. I don’t have to work my way in like I did with Gwen because she’s already so wet. I move inside of her the same way I did with her sister, telling myself that the things I felt with Gwen were in my head. A moment of weakness brought on by our conversation. I could feel that way with anyone if I tried.
Sophia moans beneath me, repeating the same phrase over and over: “It feels so good, it feels so good…”
I let myself go rigid, pressing my lips against her mouth as I come, to shut her up. When I’m done, I remove myself from her lax body and walk to the bathroom without looking back. My job in this house is finished. Thank God for that. It was a strange morning and I feel off-kilter. I had to think of Gwen to come. That has never happened before.
Their mother is waiting at the bottom of the stairs as I make my way down. She smiles up at me as I’m straightening my collar. It’s always an awkward exchange, seeing the parent when your dick is still wet from her daughter.