Page 106 of Unhinged

“You’re a royal pain in the ass. There!” I walk into her, forcing Simone to back up until she hits a wall of liquor boxes lines against the wall, three deep. She screeches, “Leave me alone!”

I lean closer, nearly touching noses, and I whisper, “Make me…princess.”

Simone mutters, “Asshole,” before dodging to my right, but I grab her and push her into an enclave of liquor cases. I pin her outstretched hands to the boxes behind her, and we glare at each other.

She swallows, and it echoes. My anger falls somewhat as I say, “I’m not trapping you here. You can leave if you want.” In the dim light, the uncertainty in her eyes changes to fierce determination, as if I just dared her to stay.

Simone juts her tits toward me with heavy breaths, and unable to resist, I dip my head in between them and inhale her. I clutch her hands in mine as I feel her heart slamming against my lips. I want to suck on a tit, but we don’t have much time. I move to her neck and kiss her throat.

Beneath my lips, she swallows and states, “I’ll fuck whoever I want, Greg.”

Over her collarbone, I ask, “Is that so?” She nods, and I release her hands to untie her apron strings, dropping it to the floor and then pushing down her skirt and underwear. Simone’s deep breath is loud in my ear as I move to hers. “So will I, Simone.” I hope I’m not misreading her, and she honestly doesn’t want this. I’ve been the victim but then also accused of crossing that line. I’m not that guy. I’m just a fucking dense idiot who lived in denial and was in love with the wrong woman.

Simone’s skirt falls to the floor, and when her hands go to my belt, I sigh with relief before we become frantic. I remove my phone from my jeans and set it on a box as she digs into my underwear to stroke my aching hard-on, frustrated and craving Simone’s pussy. Removing my wallet, I find a rubber and toss the wallet next to my phone. Thank fuck I remembered to refill it. This would’ve tragically turned into a jack-and-jill session instead.

I hold Simone and guide her as we both push and pull. I don’t know how to fuck a woman against a wall, but it works. She moans, “I love riding your massive dick.”

“And I love nailing your soaking pussy.” I dive deep into her, feeling her short and curlies rub against mine, and it’s such a turn-on. I lean against her more, holding her hips as I slam into her like on the dance floor, but it’s the real thing this time, and relief looms. The bottles behind her jangle. We pant against each other as I thrust between her legs, clinging to my hips. Aside from the liquor sloshing, her wet pussy and our panting are the only sounds between us until I plead, “Come on, Simone. Flood me.”

As she uses the boxes for leverage, her screeches again echo. “Shit! I’m going to come! Oh, Greg!”

“Oh, Jesus, baby,” I groan as Simone’s cunt squeezes my dick into coming with her. While I pour into the rubber inside her, she pours over me, running down our legs, and splashes the linoleum. The feeling is overwhelming, and my voice echoes with hers.

We catch our breaths to the sound of muffled music, but when our eyes meet, we instantly look away, like it’s more personal than what we just did.

I pull out and set her down slowly. Simone gasps but squats for her skirt. I watch her put it on and then assess the puddle. When I remove the rubber, Simone takes it from me so I can pull up my jeans, despite my damp legs. I kind of like having Simone with me this way since that’s all I can really feel of her pussy. I look at Simone to see her studying the full dick slick, and I smirk. “Is that interesting to you?” She shrugs but won’t look at me. I sigh since I still can’t zip my jeans. “Harold is a bar slut.”

“So?”

I scoff, “Damn. Okay, then. He lives with his grandmother.”

“You live with your mother.”

“It’s temporary. I plan to move out and get an apartment soon.” Simone finally looks at me, and I say, “Or we can get one together…” Am I asking her to live with me? This is different from asking her to stay with me at my mother’s. This would be our place and have nothing to do with our so-called marriage. But why would I want her with me that much?

I try to ignore the moronic voice in my head screaming the answer. It’s been wrong one too many times.

Simone looks at me like I just ate a cat. “You have a date Saturday night. I don’t think she’d like it if you lived with another woman.”

“Even if we’re married?”

She rolls her eyes, and I still notice her pinching the rubber between her fingers. “Especially then. You sure like playing that card.”

I grin. “It’s the ace, isn’t it?”

“Not when you’re the joker. I’m not moving in with you.”

“I mean, we’re sorta friends.” I smirk, but she doesn’t see me since she’s back to looking at the wall. “Aside from either of us dating, why would that be such a bad thing?”

She laughs. “Do you know how crazy that sounds? We shouldn’t have even fucked. I said our time together is over, but you pushed it.”

“And you caved. I didn’t fuck myself. You’re not going out with Harold. I don’t give a shit if we’re over or if it pisses you off. He’s not even attractive, and I say that as a straight man. No, Simone.” When she just glares at me but has no response, I mutter, “I need to get back out there.”

“I’m glad you’re done with me.”

“You wanted it too.”

I turn to walk away, and something soft with a squishy sound hits my back. I stop and pivot, seeing my used rubber spilled on the floor. I look up at Simone. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

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