What’s the point of wearing anything at all?

It’s such an overt measure on Julia’s part to be sexy and it puts me off. She’s a nice girl and all—a good fuck—but she tries harder than she needs to. It’s why she’ll never be on my radar as anything more than an acquaintance with benefits. She’s just a regular appointment to keep that placates my inner beast and lets me focus on my work.

The moment her panties drop to her ankles, I kick my foot between both of hers and stomp down on the fabric to keep them hooked around her stilettos. I don’t want her spreading her legs wide—I want her tight when I fuck her so I can be quick about it.

I shove her down, pressing her over the arm of the couch, and let go of her hair so I can unbuckle my pants. I pull out my hard cock and rather unceremoniously push inside her tight pussy. She gasps and groans, whimpering when I put my hand on the back of her neck and press her head down into the cushion. She turns her head to the side, showing me her parted lips and the grin that’s just enough acknowledgment that my aggression is welcomed.

If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be fucking her.

That aggression is why I insist on being quick with her. I have to be cautious—always cautious—whenever I’m alone with a woman. I don’t know what I’m capable of. More accurately, I know exactly what I’m capable of, which is why I need to be cautious. If I ever lose control, there’s no telling what might happen.

I canneverlose control.

Not like my piece of shit fuckingfather.

This is why I use Julia. We can both be satisfied with a quick, rough fuck without the need for anything else.

“Tell me I’m a slut. Talk dirty to me, Andrés.”

My hand slips around her throat and jerks her upright, her pussy squeezing tight around my dick as I pull her back against my chest.

“I’ve told you not to say my name when we’re fucking.”

“Am I a bad girl, then? Are you gonna spank me?” she purrs.

I try to disguise my agitated sigh as a groan of interest, and I indulge her with a sharp swat of my palm against her ass cheek before digging into her flesh with my fingers. The dirty talk and punishment requests put me on edge. It’s not that I don’t like it. I do like it—a little too much—and that’s why I wish she’d just shut up and let me fuck her.

I can’t lose control.

I indulge her as minimally as I can. She puts out for me on the regular, doesn’t push me too far, and does a decent job with keeping our boundaries in place. As hard as it is for me to keep my shit together, I know she deserves to enjoy our little therapy sessions. I have to make it worth her while to keep up with this little charade without strings and commitments.

“You want dirty talk?”

She nods as best she can with her throat in my grip.

I drag my nose up the side of her neck, inhaling, savoring the scent of a woman who wants it. They all smell the same to me, but I like it. It’s the smell of sex—raw and carnal. Stripped of fake fragrance, they smell exposed, bare, and vulnerable.

The beast inside me wants to take advantage.

I can’t losecontrol.

“You want me to talk about your cunt?”

“Oh, God…” She shrinks in my hold.

“I’m gonna fucking destroy you. I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to remember your own name.” I run my tongue from her jawline, back behind her ear, making her tremble. “But you’ll never forget mine, will you, beautiful?”

“Shit.Fuck.Fuck me. Make me come, quick.”

Make me come, quick.

Jesus Christ.

A quick lay is all I want from her and it’s all she wants from me, too. But it doesn’t exactly stroke my ego to be reminded of it. My spirit gains nothing from sex like this—it craves intimacy, but intimacy is something I fear. Not because I’m afraid of being open and vulnerable, but because I’m afraid of the strength of my desire to explore women in ways they were never meant to be explored.

Iam my father’s son.

It doesn’t matter to me when my therapist reassures me that I’m a different person capable of making different decisions. I do make different decisions, but I can still feel that beast hiding deep within my soul.