Page 43 of Unhinged

I’ve had many arguments with women in my life, but one after the Halloween party still hangs in my mind. It’s one that cut me deeper than I realized until now, and it reawakens every reaction possible.

Bouncing tits, a wet pussy on my fingers, and pleading moans in my ear as we fuck.

Though it’s temporary, my dick hardens for the first time in months. When it pushes against my zipper, I undo my belt and fly. While I grow hard in the moonlight, I reach down to encourage it, not wanting to scare it off. I fucking need this. Having been shelved, my balls are hot and heavy. Damn, it feels good to get reacquainted.

It’s painful, but as I spit in my hand and jerk, I think of what that night did to me. With my hands gripping her ass through her red shorts, I offered myself to her. How could she resist, really? She knew what happened the last time she did, and it almost blew our friendship apart. If I had only stopped it there.

My mind then jumps to her bare pussy, already wet and all mine, when I slide into it. It’s a place I never thought I’d be, even though it’s one of the places I fantasized about.

I stroke faster, becoming more frantic as I imagine ramming between her spread legs. She begs for more, though there’s no experience to compare that to. I needed and wanted it so much. I had chosen her pussy as the first to fuck without it forced upon me.

It takes less than two minutes for me to moan, “Holy shit.” I hold my breath as I lift my hips, coming long and hard in the air. Shooting heavily, I cream my hand, pants, and bedspread. Old Faithful has nothing on me, but I’m apparently more fertile than Miracle-Gro.

Amid more minor spasms and eruptions, I catch my breath, shell-shocked and somewhat ashamed for letting my mind and hand go there after everything that went down between us. But I can’t live in that space, no matter if she’s already living there for free.

Sitting up, I sigh and stuff the mess back into my pants. The house is still quiet, so I leave my room for a quick shower before I lock myself in my room, determined to avoid my mother and her questions for as long as possible.

Chapter 9

Simone

“How could you, Amos?”

“I’m—”

“I can’t believe you sprung him on me!”

“Allow me—”

“Is this entertaining? Are you done now? Because I’m so out of here.”

“Simone, wait.”

I yelled at Amos for a solid hour, but after that, I refused to talk to him until this morning, when he offered to pay for my last semester of college. I’d be a stupid college kid to refuse that. But since my father already pays for it, Amos agreed to buy me a French bulldog puppy.

He asked why Greg and I were angry, but I couldn’t tell him. Instead, I told him I didn’t appreciate being lied to or surprised. Which is true.

Yet, before he left for his bar job earlier, I offered to help him there. This time, he told the truth.

“Greg works there.”

“Oh, really? That’s surprising.”

“His aunt co-owns the bar with me. So, it’d be best for you to—”

“I want to help. Does he work tonight?”

“Yes, after his Home Depot shift. I don’t want you sparring every time you work together.”

“Tell him that. I can be civil.”

“Very well. You’ll want to change your clothes. Gucci and Donna Karan aren’t regulars.”

Following Amos into the poorly lit bar, I can’t help frowning. Although I’m offended, I don’t want to offend anyone. It’s hard to believe Amos is even in here, as snooty as he can be. Amos takes me through a white swinging door and into a brighter kitchen. A gnarled, disheveled man missing several teeth, and I think a finger grins at me. The magazine he’s holding is in better shape than him. When he moves, I swear I see a dust cloud, making him the adult version of Pig-Pen who hit the skids and exploded.

“Simone, this is Milt Curtis. He’ll be working with you tonight.” I’m out of here.

Milt leers at me, and I smell his decaying body already. “Hey, there, pretty lady.”

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