9. Kieran

9

KIERAN

W ater pounds on my back, scorching my inked skin as I rest one hand on the tiled wall. The other is wrapped around my cock, stroking slowly while I think about the brat in the next room. What I would give to spank her ass just once. It would be long and hard until she was a sobbing mess over my lap, promising never to be sassy to me again. Of course, that would be a big fat lie because, let's face it, Paisley can't resist poking me.

I pump my cock while that fantasy rolls through my mind. She might hate me, but in my dreams, she loves my dick. And I already know her pussy would be like cocaine. Addictive.

The night started off rough between us, but when she approached me and asked me to pretend to be her man, I couldn't say no. Then, she snuggled her thick body up to me. I kept catching a whiff of her perfume, and I've been rock-hard ever since. She doesn't know how beautiful she is. I could see the insecurity flashing in her eyes whenever her ex and his bitch of a girlfriend were around.

I'm not the type of man to ever hurt a woman, but when Mercedes commented that Paisley looked like Morticia, I nearly made an exception. The only reason I restrained myself was because, while Mercedes meant it as an insult, it was a huge compliment. Morticia Adams is fucking gorgeous. Dark, mysterious, beautiful beyond measure. Paisley is all of that and more. I don't think she took it as a compliment, though.

When the water finally runs cold, and I still haven't come, I give up. Normally, I come within minutes of thinking of Paisley, but for some fucked-up reason, having her in the next room, I can't. Maybe it's because I'd rather have her tight cunt squeezing me or those scarlet red lips leaving lipstick stains on my dick.

Relationships aren't my thing. After being burned in the past, I've never gotten involved with anyone again. Casual sex is all I ever have, and I don't ever stay the night with a woman. The last thing I need is someone catching feelings. I don't just want to fuck Paisley, though. I want to explore her body and find out what makes her tick. Of course, she'd have to not hate me for that to happen.

After I slide on a pair of pajama pants, I let myself fall into bed. I need to stop thinking so damn much. Stop fantasizing about her. Wondering if she's eaten. Hoping she's drinking water. Paisley isn't my girl, and she never will be. I'm simply chalking it up to temporary insanity that I invited her to stay at my place for the night. Yep, definitely insanity.

I'm not sure how much time passes with me staring at the ceiling, wondering if she's asleep already. When I hear the faint creak of a cabinet opening downstairs, I have my answer, and I'm on my feet instantly.