Confessions of a Litigation God

Frantic desperation to erase the last hour of my life and drown it out with something that I can understand. Something that is comforting to me.

Hardcore, dirty f**king.

Matt Connover style.

I settle my body in between Mac’s legs, and her hands come up to grip my shoulders. I use my hand to guide myself to her pu**y, and I start battering my way in. She’s wet, but not as wet as she could be. She’s definitely tight, whether from tension or because I simply refuse to take the time to get her worked up.

With three hard pushes and pulls, I work my way in to her body, knowing I should feel guilty because I haven’t even kissed her or touched her intimately other than to bite her nipple once. But the guilt doesn’t come, only the unbelievably fantastic feeling of being immersed deep inside of her.

Mac’s breathing is harsh, and she hasn’t said a word, but she moves her h*ps against mine and that’s all the encouragement I need.

I start f**king her hard, and by my fourth full stroke, I feel her flood with wetness. Raising her legs up, I put them on my shoulders and lean into her, causing her to practically fold in on herself but giving me the deepest f**king angle imaginable for me to tunnel into her.

“Feels good,” she pants, and I would have to agree wholeheartedly with her.

I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at Mac’s face, because I know that even though this feels amazing, she’s worried about me… about what we’re doing right this moment, and whether or not she has the ability to help me get past this anger.

I f**k her, and f**k her, and f**k her, trying to drown out the torment that Marissa just laid upon me. With every thrust, it becomes a little more palatable.

When Mac seizes up underneath of me and starts shaking as she cl**axes, I purposely hold off my orgasm, not wanting to share that moment. I want it all for myself.

I heave and lurch against her, slamming my way home, again and again, and when I finally think I’m distant enough away, I let go and pour all of my frustration into her body with a powerfully quiet orgasm.

When I’m empty of every tremor and ounce of se**n I can unload, I roll off Mac and lay on my back,

gasping for breath. I examine my feelings, searching for the guilt and anger that had me hostage just moments ago.

Gone. Vanished.

I feel nothing, and that is great.

Just what I was looking for, and apparently, it was nothing that a good rousing f**k with Mac couldn’t cure.

Standing up, I reach down and hold my hand out to her. She doesn’t hesitate but lets me pull her up from the floor. I lead her back to my bedroom, because I think I might need a few more sessions just to make sure that shit with Marissa is purged for good.

Chapter 30

“That smells fantastic,” I tell Mac as I walk up behind her. Putting my hands on her h*ps and resting my chin on her shoulder, I watch as she stirs the pot of spaghetti sauce.

“Why don’t you set the table? This will be done soon. ”

Turning away, I open the cupboard. “Sure. Will Macy be joining us?”

“She’s got a date, and by date, I mean she has a one-night stand. ”

“I thought I used that service a lot, but Macy takes the cake,” I say with a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as hollow as it feels.

Because I just had a little zap of longing that coursed through me when Mac referenced Macy having a one-night stand. Ever since Marissa came over on Saturday and told me all that shit about how she felt… about how she was pissed at me, making me feel as if I did something wrong… well, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.

After I f**ked Mac on my kitchen floor, then took her back to my bedroom and f**ked her twice more, I left her passed out on my bed in an orgasm coma. I went into my home office and booted up my computer, went straight to my bookmarks menu and pulled up my One Night Only wish list.

Scrolling through profile after profile, I looked at each woman presented to me with dispassion and only vague interest. Not one of them could ever compare to Mac. But that’s not why I was looking. I was looking because ever since Marissa walked out of my apartment with Gabe, I had started longing for simpler times in my life. Such as when I was a one-night stand kind of man, with no strings, no connections, and no feelings other than the euphoria that comes with busting a good nut.

Those simpler times were simple because they were black and white. There was no guessing… no worry that some action I take today may cause me pain tomorrow. I didn’t have to look out for anyone but Gabe and myself.

It was just… simple.

Of course, I never did anything other than look at the ONO profiles because while I longed for the simpler times, I certainly didn’t long for anyone other than Mac. My feelings may be a hundred ways f**ked right now, but the one thing that has not changed is my desire for her. I still lust after her with a vengeance. She can’t be within my proximity for ten seconds before my mind is already calculating on how to f**k her, and if I can’t f**k her, how I can at least touch her in some way.

In fact, since Saturday, it’s like my sexual appetite for her has increased tenfold. After I closed out the ONO profile, I went back to the room, woke her up, and f**ked her doggie style. Then I went down on her, made her come twice more, and by then I was hard enough for her to ride me to a blistering eruption.

Sunday, I didn’t let her out of my bed. If I couldn’t spend time with my son, I’d spend it f**king away the pain and anger. I’d like to say Mac never complained once, but by Sunday mid-afternoon, she asked for a hiatus. She told me she was sore and needed to get home to do laundry. I had a tiny frisson of guilt course through me, but I didn’t ask her to stay. I could have. I could have asked her to stay and we could have curled on the couch and watch an old movie, but I had absolutely no desire to do that.

What does it say about me that my only interest in Mac, at that point, was just in f**king her?

I think it says a lot.

Now granted, things were a little brighter on Monday at work. I had a good night’s sleep, I put Marissa out of my mind, and I was looking forward to having Gabe for the upcoming weekend. Weirdly, I didn’t mention it or discuss the potential plans with Mac. I’m not sure if she’s going to come with us or not. I’m not sure if I’m extending another invite to her, or if she just assumes there is one. It’s all messed up in my head now… what level of involvement I want her to have with Gabe… because frankly, he has enough crazy stuff between his own parents going on that I don’t want to add additional confusion onto his young shoulders.