But right now I don’t give a fuck. We’re way past shyness. I want Dean to take his pleasure out of me any way he likes. I want my body to be his plaything.
“Harder,” I beg. “Fuck me harder.”
I want more, more, more.
There’s never enough.
Dean roars as he explodes into me, what feels like a gallon of cum pumping out of him.
I turn my face into the pillows, grinning with delight.
15
Dean
Only a week remains before Christmas.
That means I only have one more week with Cat as my pet.
That’s a problem, because I’m completely fixated on her. She occupies my mind night and day.
An additional problem: I fucking need her to cum.
I tested it on Saturday morning when Bram walked down to the village with Valon.
I stayed alone in our dorm room, setting myself up in my bed, planning to try to stroke my cock light and steady like Cat does. I wanted to prove to myself that I was the one in control of my orgasms. That I could make myself cum over and over just like she does, that I didn’t need her.
I laid back and tried to think of things other than Cat. I didn’t even want to use her for mental stimulation.
But no matter what kind of woman I tried to picture, tall or short, thin or curvy, I couldn’t get hard. They all seemed bland and insipid, as plastic as dolls.
I only felt that spark of lust when I pictured Cat on her knees before me, with that wild mane of dark curls all around her face, and those big, innocent eyes looking up at me above her mischievous smile.
Then my cock swelled to life. I couldn’t help but picture her crawling around in that sinuous way, the candlelight gleaming on her tight body.
I scowled, thinking that I would use her for fantasy, but I’d cum all on my own, without her touch.
I stroked myself, imagining it was Cat’s small hand wrapped around my cock, making it look enormous.
My hand was too big, too rough, too clumsy. It felt wrong.
Far from cumming multiple times, I couldn’t bring myself to climax at all.
I wanted her, not myself.
Disgusted, I flung the covers off and went to shower, pent up and furious.
I can’t be this dependent on her. Especially not with so little time left.
It’s dangerous and weak. I told myself I’d never make this mistake again, wrapping up my desires in a woman.
That night in the tower, I fucked Cat viciously, telling myself I was only using her, that I didn’t care about her at all.
I never should have told her about my mother.
I never should have told her anything at all.
Cat didn’t seem to care that I was in an awful mood. She didn’t mind that I was rough with her. She bit and scratched me back until we had scattered the cushions and rubbed our backs raw on the floor.
When we lay there after, panting and sweating . . . I felt nothing but peace.
Sunday, I go hunting for Lola Fischer.
I find her lounging in the common room of the Gatehouse, with Dixie Davis and a half-dozen other members of the Dixie mafia.
They’re a motley group, all ages and appearances. The Dixie mafia is one of the only mafia groups not connected by family or country of origin. They recruit out of prison, and their members include both wealthy entrepreneurs who run the businesses along the Strip in Biloxi, as well as decidedly less-reputable members operating riverboat casinos, strip joints, and bingo parlors all through the Appalachian states.
Hence why Lola dresses like a dolled-up debutante, while her henchmen Carter Ross and Belkie Blintz look like they’ve never encountered indoor plumbing.
She notices me at once as I enter the large and cluttered common room, messy with abandoned shoes and pullovers and the detritus of forgotten snacks. I can see from how she sits up a little straighter and tosses back her fair hair that she knows why I’m here.
“Dean Yenin,” she says, batting those big blue eyes at me. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I doubt it’s pleasant, or a surprise,” I reply coolly.
“Oh, it’s both, I assure you.” She smiles sweetly. “After all, when have you ever broken that brooding silence of yours to speak to me before?”
“I’d prefer to keep it that way,” I say flatly. “But you’ve been putting your hands on something that belongs to me.”