Page 7 of Something So Strong

I don’t want to see her tonight. I haven’t wanted to see her for a while.

I didn’t open my door for her.

I won’t open my door for her again.

Not after tonight.

This will be the last time.

I lower my hand and grab my cock through my sweatpants. With Jesse gone, it’s soft—as per usual—even with the anticipation of sex.

Jesse’s not against his door anymore, but I close my eyes and imagine he is. His hand rubbing his dick with a look of perplexity on his face. Disorientation at why he’s hard thinking about another guy pulsing through him and bringing him to orgasm faster than anything ever has before.

“This is new.” Alma’s French-tipped nails rake up the back of my hand and I try to not show her the disappointment I feel.

I’m not dead inside. I actually like Alma in spite of the fact she didn’t heed my warnings that our arrangement would only ever be physical.

Stepping back, I let her enter my room, and I shut the door behind us. “This is it, okay? No more after tonight.”

Flopping onto my bed, she looks up at me like she doesn’t believe a word of it.

Alma is one of those rare women who doesn’t look better with makeup. Her bare olive skin is flawless and her naturally thick eyelashes border her chocolate eyes to perfection. She’s thirty-three, more of a babe than women ten years her junior, and no one else here can hold a candle to her beauty. But as she lays there on her side—one of her bare feet sliding up and down the calf of her other leg, lust for me intoxicating her—I still feel nothing.

“Seriously, Alma. Tonight is the last time.”

“He might have a different opinion,” she says, moving to her knees and looking at my hard-on.

“He’s the only one calling the shots.” Lowering my sweatpants, I stroke myself and step to the bed. Alma kneels up and tries to link her arms around my neck for a kiss, but I turn my head away. “I said, no more.”

“So what do you want me to do, then?” she asks, trying to mask the pain of her rejection.

“You can either suck my cock or take off your leggings and bend over.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it… Or you can leave and I’ll do it myself.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, Alma. You knew what this was from the beginning.”

Her eyes silently fight with mine as she picks the right words to say that won’t sting but will make a point. “I’m not the only one who kept coming back.”

“That’s because your pretty Colombian cunt is the best I’ve ever had.”

Alma’s lips purse and her eyebrows raise ever so slightly in righteous indignation. “So why throw it away, then?”

“Because it no longer sparks any joy,” I spit sarcastically, wishing she would just pick up her dignity and leave of her own accord. But she doesn’t. She has a point to prove and is too in denial to see the person she’s trying to prove it to has already checked out of the interaction.

Taking me by the hips, Alma guides me to lie beside her before tugging off her leggings and rifling through my dresser. Spinning back to me with a condom in her teeth, she straddles me and wraps her fingers around my shaft. We’ve been in this position so many times she knows what I like, but she mistakes my groans for approval.

Tearing the packet open, she rolls the condom down my length and raises herself over me. With my dick in her hand, she uses the head to spread her wetness around before sinking down onto me.

I grunt and bite down on my bottom lip.

I won’t miss Alma, but I’ll miss this pussy and the way it chokes me. How hot it feels. The way she rotates her hips and tugs at me, her muscles gripping and releasing as she uses me to get herself off. I’ll miss how her ass looks when I fuck her from behind and how much of it there is for me to grab.

But still… I won’t miss her.

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