N.R.Walker

those red briefs were pretty spectacular dry, but wet? I wanted to meet Calvin Klein and kiss him.

I never knew I wanted this, until now. I thought all I wanted in life was a casual hook-up, no strings attached. It was all I ever had time for, and it had worked well for me until now.
Until Foster.
Until I knew what I was missing.

“Lock the door, captain. Your cabin boy needs a really good fucking.”
Jesus.

My body wanted him like he was oxygen.

I wanted to tell him to stay. I wanted to tell him to quit his job, his old life, and stay with me.
I wanted to tell him how I felt.
But as I searched for the right words, his breathing evened out and he slept. I drew him in close and wrapped my arms around him, and even though he couldn’t hear me, or maybe because he couldn’t hear me, I said the words anyway. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Fuck him.
Fuck him for coming here, for making me realise what I’m missing. But most of all, fuck him for leaving.

I fucking hated him for making me want him.

“Stay the fuck down, you piece of shit,” he said. “You want me to fuck you like I hate you?” He pulled out and drove back into me. “Because I fucking do.”

“I’ll give you a week to think about it. No strings attached, no questions asked, just sex and nothing more. Like friends with benefits—”
With his hand on the door handle, he gave me a snarl over his shoulder. “We are not friends.”
I smiled at him. “And that makes it so much better.”

To them, he was so cool, calm, and collected, so superior and commanding of respect.
To me, he was nothing but a whore for cock, who had a world of issues that Freud himself wouldn’t be able to fix.