Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
In fact, maybe that was just the thing to get over him. I could arrange to meet some willing stranger in Vegas after I got off the plane, then report to camp the next morning with a fresh outlook. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. I did it almost every time I finished a fight.
There was this cheap motel on the outskirts of town called the Tick-Tock Inn, with green-and-yellow vinyl curtains and beds that smelled like mothballs and ass. It had tiny bathrooms with mildewed tiles and toilet paper that felt like that stiff shit people stuffed in gift bags. Every bedside table drawer contained a King James Bible and a condom. This is where I always had the boys meet me— or rather it was where John Brown had them meet him. I’d come up with that fictitious name because I wasn’t about to use my real one.
John Brown was kind of a sick puppy.
When I played the part of John Brown, I usually showed up with a busted lip or a clotted cut beneath my eye, hard-earned in a fight within the last couple of hours. I was always ready to go, usually with a throbbing boner that hadn’t abated since shortly after the bell had sounded to end the fight. Once I escorted my fuckboy into the motel room, there were no pleasantries exchanged, no hey-how-ya-doin or handshakes. I’d simply click the door shut behind me and smile down at the flavor of the night— always a pretty pain slut, young and wide-eyed and willing to be used hard. I’d watch them for a long moment as they swallowed and squirmed under my scrutiny, seeing clearly just what my wicked smile did to them as they trembled just a little bit and glanced at the door. I loved it when they did that— got off on it, actually. That expression of doubt, the slight hesitation, betrayed the fear that maybe this time they’d gotten in over their heads. But I knew they got off on it, too. It was all part of the game.
I only chose the ones who craved what I offered— a little bit of humiliation and a little bit of pain, all tied up with a thin ribbon of fear. There was never any real damage, of course. It was all in good fun. I’d hold them down, bind their wrists with a belt or curtain tie-back if they wanted, choke them with my big cock before rolling on a condom and fucking them good and hard. Occasionally, I’d spank them or something if they wanted me to, but only if they begged. I wasn’t fancy in my needs— no ceremony or gear, no rules beyond the obvious. As long as it was rough, that’s all I cared about. I fucked, I came, and then I went.
The sex was what I did to come down from the fighting, otherwise I’d be a nervous wreck for days. All of that raw aggression built up inside me, needing to go somewhere, and shooting it out through the tip of my dick worked better than therapy. I knew, because I had experience with both.
What I’d just done to Jamie felt different, though, because it had felt more like fighting than sex. Instead of calming me down like it normally did, this time I felt like I needed a comedown from the sex. I was agitated as hell, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to get it to stop. I hated what he’d done to me, what he’d reduced me to, how helpless he made me feel. Love wasn’t supposed to be this way. But then, what the hell did I know about love?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and went to click on the icon for my favorite hookup app, but I didn’t click it right away. My thumb just hovered there in mid-air for what seemed like ages. In my peripheral vision, I could see the lights of the city whizzing by outside the window, hear the road noise humming and clicking off the seconds, and still my thumb hovered there. Then, before I realized what was happening, I’d tapped the quick call button for my psychiatrist.
“Michael?” Her voice was breathless on the other end of the line. “Is everything alright?”
A man spoke in the background, near the phone, and she covered the speaker and mumbled something to him.
“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Tanner,” I said.
I didn’t tell her I was freaking out. I didn’t need to. There was only one reason I’d be calling her outside of our now-monthly sessions.
“Has something happened, Michael? Do I need to come over? Is Jamie there?”
At the mention of his name, my body went weak. Somehow hearing her say his name aloud made it all real. And over. I slumped into the corner between the seat and the cab door like a frightened kid. Now that my doctor was on the other end of the phone, it was okay to do that, to feel and to show my weakness. A sound escaped my lips, somewhere between a sigh and a whisper, and I bashed my head against the window glass hard enough to rattle my teeth.