I wasn’t a prude, but I wasn’t one to go around having sex with men I’d only just met. Even so, I understood what he was saying. I wanted to devour him too. I wanted him to devour me. He’d said he wasn’t a one-night stand sort of guy and while that was nice to hear, I wasn’t going to put stock in his words. My mama didn’t raise any dummy. So while I was going to make the most of this moment, I also knew that there’d be no future. Cinderella was a fairytale, after all.
When his lips found mine, I didn’t push him away or act coy. I kissed him back. I parted my lips to invite him in. To let him know that I was up for whatever.
He groaned. He put his drink on the table and then took mine setting it next to his. As he removed my glasses, his brown eyes looked into mine like he was searching for something. I wish I knew what it was because I desperately wanted to give it to him. But then his lips were on mine again and I got lost in his taste.
Our hands moved quickly as we undressed. His long fingers brushed over me and it felt like my skin was on fire.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured as his hands found my breasts and started to knead them. He pinched the nipples watching as they hardened and distended. He leaned over, sucking one into his mouth, making my entire body light up. I arched beneath him desperate to feel him inside me.
“Simon,” I gasped. I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his length. Like his body, it was long and firm. I stroked him, and he thickened.
“Fuck. I need you.” He pushed my thighs apart, hooking one of my legs over the back of his couch and the other around his waist. His long fingers slid between my legs. “Tell me you’re wet. That you’re ready.”
My hips bucked up at his touch. He slid a long finger inside me and I nearly came out of my skin. “Yes. Simon…God…please.”
He withdrew his finger and pressed the tip of his dick against me. “What is it about you?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “I want you.”
He thrust in, hard, fast, and so deep.
“Oh my God,” I cried out as he filled me.
“Do you like that, Leslie?”
“Yes…more…don’t stop…”
He lay over me and gripped my hands bringing them over my head, resting them on the arm of the couch. “Do you like to fuck hard and fast? Or slow?”
“I want what you want.” I squeezed hands. “Just start already.”
He let out a surprised laugh. “You’re so real. And so responsive. I wonder if I’m dreaming.”
I did a Kegel squeeze. “Not dreaming.”
“Ah fuck…” he groaned. He began to move. Slow and long. I felt each and every inch of him as he slid in and out, until I was writhing beneath him.
“Yes...more…more…Simon…please.” Every neuron in my body was cranking up to fire and I could hardly stand the anticipation. It was like reaching the top of the first of a roller coaster, that split second before it went careening down in a thrilling ride.
“Are you there? Are you going to come?” his voice was strained, like he was holding back. I didn’t want him to. He seemed to be a person that was always holding back, but I didn’t want that now. I wanted the real Simon Stark.
“Yes…make me come Simon…don’t hold back.”
He growled and heat flashed wildly in his eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw him. The real him. But then he was fucking me. Hard. Fast. Wild. And I was lost in sensation over sensation until I was teetering on the edge of oblivion.
To me, this was what it was all about. Two people, getting real and intimate. Giving and accepting pleasure. I hoped to God that he meant what he said about not being a one-night sort of guy, because that string between us was now a rope and I was completely tethered to him.
1
Simon
Sometimes I wondered why I was bothering. As I looked around at the crowd enjoying the fundraising party that I put together for Jay Wallace’s mayoral campaign, I was struck with the notion that I was wasting my time. If he won, and I had him as an ally in Salvation, I could do more than I’d been allowed to do so far, but to what end? I came here with the idea that I could find my place. I could make a difference and help small town Nebraska as the rest of the world left it behind.
At first, my plan worked. Armed with the governor’s support, I came to town and convinced Mayor Valentine of my project’s merits. Like me, he was concerned about the fate of the family farm and of Salvation as opportunities took many of the youth away to larger cities. My prison project would have brought in jobs that many in town welcomed.
But the deputy mayor, Sinclair Jones, with the full force of the farmers, was able to shut that project down. I won’t lie. I wasn’t a man used to losing. I was determined that somehow, someway, I’d win.
There was no question that I was an asshole. I wasn’t born that way. I’d once believed as everyone else seemed to that life was about love and happiness. Even after the shitty parents I had, I’d believed in the possibility of a joyful life thanks to a couple of nice nannies. But I’d learned the hard way that love and happiness were all marketing gimmicks to sell greeting cards and personal development books. What I knew now was that the only thing that lasted, the only thing that never let you down or betrayed you, was money and power. I’d also learned that the best way to get money and power was by being an asshole.