“I just don’t understand why you can’t be at home more often,” Susan’s voice sighed through the phone. “Why do you have to keep touring?”
It didn’t matter how many times they had this conversation, her frustration was just as evident as when she first brought it up – and as always, showed no signs of giving in. Duff bit his tongue and forced his breathing to stay even.
“Because it’s my job and because I love it.” He replied, poison lacing his tone. Anger burned hot in his chest, and without meaning to, he let it escape through his teeth.
On the other side of the phone, his wife huffed in exasperation. “You’re not 25 anymore, Duff. You should be at home with your family.”
Her words stung, twisting the knife another inch deeper, and something in him snapped. After months of de-esclating, months of listening to her complaints and wishes for him to be a normal retired house husband, he finally said fuck it and gave her a piece of his mind in return for the shards of hers she’d thrown in his face.
“You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” A beat of shocked silence passed before he spoke again, each word digging a deeper grave. “I have always been supportive of your ridiculous dreams and inane careers – whatever you wanted to do, I helped you do it and stood by your side through it all! But it’s never been that way for me, has it? It’s like ever since we got married you’ve just been waiting for me to give up on the whole rockstar thing, as if that hasn’t been my job since we fucking met.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“Yes, Susan, yes it is,” he cut her off before she could speak again. “You know, I called you tonight because I wanted to talk to my loving wife before the show and instead I have to listen to you complaining about how I’m never at home. Maybe I’m never at home because I don’t want to be with you all the time. Because you make me feel like shit.”
The words hung heavy in the space between them, the line dead other than each other’s tense breathing.
“Well maybe when you get home from tour this time, I won’t be there,” Susan broke the silence. If she was hurt by what he had said, Duff couldn’t tell. All he could hear in her voice was spite.
“Fine by me.”
He hung up the phone and tossed it unceremoniously onto the table beside him. The dressing room was empty except for him, the rest of the band in their own room down the hall. Without the phone pressed to his ear, he could faintly hear them; talking, laughing, excited for tonight’s show. As he stood there alone, Duff felt his insides twisting into knots. He hadn’t fought with Susan like that in years, maybe not ever. He could go down the hall, talk to his bandmates – his friends – about it, but he didn’t want to. Not really. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to feel it. What he really wanted was a drink.
Fuck, no.
He didn’t realize his heart was racing until he could barely breathe, his fists clenched and almost hyperventilating. Sometime between the argument starting and hanging up the phone, all the air in the room had evaporated. He needed to get out of here.
The door fell shut behind him as he disappeared into the dark hallways of the venue; it was smaller than anything he’d played in a while, as small as the clubs he’d played with the guys back on the Strip. The thought calmed him down a bit, and he was able to focus enough to find a bathroom. He went straight to the sink, splashing cold water on his face and gasping for air, dragging it into his lungs until he could breathe steadily again. When he looked up, the face he focused on in the mirror was eerily unfamiliar. Sometimes it felt like he had aged 30 years in the blink of an eye. If he squinted, he could still remember his first real tour with Guns N Roses. He could still see it, all the chaos, freedom, and excitement. God, he’d felt so alive back then. A different city every night, a different girl…
He shouldn’t think like that. He’d done so much work to be happy, to be content where he was. He took a deep breath, his hands planted firmly on either side of the sink. He smelled smoke. It was coming from a stall, the big one at the end of the row – the rest of them were empty. It had been ages since he’d had a smoke, and tonight it seemed like exactly what he needed. Duff walked across the bathroom, raising his knuckles to tap against the door of the stall.
“Hey man, can I have one of those?” It was unlocked, and his voice trailed off as the door gently swung open, revealing a girl perched on the top of the toilet, her feet resting on the seat and a cigarette burning between her fingers. Her dark eyes locked onto his, making his heart stop for a split second, and then flashed with recognition.
“Holy shit, hi,” she laughed, surprised but somehow unfazed by his presence.
“Uh, hi,” Duff replied. His head was spinning again. The girl was beautiful – unfairly so – and he had no idea who she was, why she was here, or what to make of her. “You know this is the men’s bathroom, right?”
She laughed again, nodding as she took another drag. “Yeah, I know. The women’s bathroom is always crowded and no one’s ever in the men’s before the shows. And it’s too cold to go out for a smoke.” She shrugged, deep brown waves falling over and over her delicate shoulders, as if that explained everything. Duff guessed it did. “Did you still want one?”
Duff looked from the pack in her outstretched hand, to the black-work tattoo of a rose decorating her wrist, and back into her eyes – almost as black as the ink etched into her skin. He should have stopped, walked away or at least thought it through before he stepped into the stall, letting the door fall shut behind him. But instead he took the pack from her, his fingertips brushing against her knuckles for the smallest of seconds, and let her light the end of one as he placed it between his lips.
“Thanks,” he exhaled. The nicotine calmed his nerves immediately, and more than he’d like to admit. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these…”
“Really? Big-time rockstar like you doesn’t smoke anymore?” The stranger replied. Her voice carried a sharp sort of sweetness, teasing him like they were old friends. It drew a laugh out of him, the sound bringing that much more warmth to the smile pulling at her blood red lips.
“I’m not really a ‘big-time rockstar’ anymore…” Duff mumbled, his mind drifting back to what Susan had said over the phone.
He didn’t look up to see it, but the stranger’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. She wasn’t sure whether it was his tone of voice or the sentiment itself, but something about what he said sent a twinge of sympathy through her chest. She had driven three hours tonight just to see his show, even though she could barely afford to fill her tank and would have to get up at 7:00am tomorrow for work, because to her, this show was everything. Looking forward to tonight had kept her going for months, ever since she bought the tickets. Of course, Duff didn’t know this, but it still shocked her that he could think so little of himself.
“You are to me.”
She said it simply, without melodrama. The sincerity in her voice nearly made him choke, and when his eyes met hers again, it was an effort not to gasp for air. Because the way she was looking at him was exactly the same way those girls backstage had 30 years ago. It wasn’t fair; it wasn’t fair that she was here, right now, looking at him like that – seeing him exactly the way he wanted to be seen. It wasn’t fair that she was beautiful, wasn’t fair that they were alone – he hadn’t been face-to-face like this with a fan since he couldn’t remember when. There was nothing between them except for air, getting hotter and heavier, the tension growing thicker by the second.
“H-How old are you?” Duff asked, clearing his throat halfway through the first word. Heat was creeping higher along his spine, wrapping around the back of his neck and reaching down to prick at his chest.
She laughed, unsurprised but amused by the question. “Old enough,” she answered with an exhale of smoke. When he didn’t respond, she conceded. “23.”
Good enough. He took a step closer.
“What are you doin’ here tonight?” He asked, taking another drag. Ash fell, forgotten, to the floor.
“I came to see you play,” the stranger replied, eyes fixed on him, watching every move, her heart steadily beating faster.
“Well yeah, but why?” Another step closer. It should have been enough of a reason – it was – but he wanted more. He wanted her reason.
She sighed, finishing the rest of her cigarette and dropping it into the bowl between her feet. “Because I love you. Because I wanted to see you up close. Because maybe you’d see me in the crowd and think I was worth looking at twice.”
And that was it. In one moment, this strange girl in a dingy bathroom stall made him feel more desired and more alive than he had felt in years. His cigarette followed hers, and his empty hands found purchase on her knees. His heart raced but his hands stayed steady as he looked her up and down – not for the first time since he’d crossed the threshold of the stall – taking in every inch with newfound interest. When his gaze met hers once more, he could see the desire clouding her irises; though he wondered for a moment if it was only a reflection of his own. A smirk tugged at his lips, his expression shifting to one she recognized from old magazines and live recordings.
“What?” She demanded, fighting a nervous laugh. The look in his eyes stirred something in her stomach, sending butterflies fluttering from her heart to the tips of her fingers.
“You’re definitely worth looking at twice.” It was the last thing that left his lips before they crashed into hers, stealing the air from her lungs and sending an electric shock through his veins.
He pulled her, clumsily, to her feet, hands wrapping around her waist as hers slid from his chest to claw at the back of his neck. He groaned at the pain, pulling her closer and letting his hands wander over her body. She felt delicate and malleable, almost breakable under his rough, unyielding touch; but she moaned when he forced her back against the wall and bit when he pressed hard enough to bruise, giggling when he pulled away.
“See?” She grinned, watching with heavy eyes as he licked his swollen lip. “I knew you were still a rockstar.”
Duff laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head as he let his hands slide lower, slipping beneath the hem of the girl’s dress. “You know what you are, baby?” Underneath her skirt, his hands found lace and heat. “You’re the best bad decision I’ve ever made.”
He smiled as her breathing grew heavier and her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting in a sigh of bliss. At the same time, Duff felt his pants growing tighter and his heart pounding out a harsh, desperate rhythm inside his ribs. But he’d like to think he was a gentleman, and he wanted her to remember this night as much as he knew he would; so he didn’t stop until her breathless moans echoed around the empty bathroom and her pussy spasmed around his fingers. She was still holding onto him, her nails digging into his arms through the fabric of his shirt, and her head fell forward against his chest as aftershocks rippled through her.
Duff ignored the throbbing ache in his cock for a minute longer, holding the girl against him as he let her come down. After a second, she looked up at him, eyes blurred with lust, a blissed-out smile on her pretty face.
“That was fun…” she murmured, leaning back against the wall.
“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you?”
His voice sounded deeper than before. Rougher, more wanton. His desperation was apparent now – obvious, even – and it made her need him even more. A second later, he had her turned around and bent over, her hands pressed flat against the wall, her heart racing all over again. Her legs were still shaking as he undid his belt. He only fumbled with his zipper for a moment before freeing his dick from restraint and nearly groaning in relief, stroking himself a few times as he ripped the lace between her legs. He grinned at the soft gasp that slipped from her mouth, and matched her moan with his own when he finally pushed inside her.
What he was met with there had to be heaven.
His head fell against her shoulder blade, his breath hot against her skin as he panted. He could feel her shaking in his hands, hear the strangled whimpers and moans that escaped her, the stuttering gasps she let out as he set a harsh, steady rhythm.
“Fuck, baby,” he sighed. “God, you feel so fucking good…” He inhaled and breathed in her perfume; flowers bloomed behind her ear, begging for kisses that he readily scattered across her neck. She leaned into his touch and Duff took the invitation to pull her closer, smiling against her skin when she whined at the way his cock pressed deep inside her. “You like that, don’t you?”
“I love it.” The words are a breathless moan on her tongue, spilling from her lips clumsily.
Her eyelids flutter and her brows knit together, her expression shifting from bliss to pure euphoria as he drags her closer to the edge. Duff curses, feeling her pussy tighten around his cock, the feeling sending a bolt of electricity through him. He could feel his own orgasm building, stronger and faster than anything he’d felt in too long. It was exhilarating; everything about this girl was different and exciting. The fact that it was wrong only made him want it more.
“Fuck, Duff I’m–” her sentence was cut off by a cry of ecstasy, her nails tearing at the wall as she came.
He followed her a second later, groaning into her neck and pulling her body impossibly close against his. For a second, time stood still. For a second, he was back in ‘87; he felt young and alive and free. Euphoria didn’t begin to describe it, and all Duff knew was that he never wanted this feeling to end. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard her giggle; a sweet, girlish noise that felt completely out of place in this moment, but it made him smile and open his eyes to look at her.
“That was fun,” the stranger said, grinning up at him. She straightened up as he pulled out, fixing her dress and running a hand through her disheveled hair.
“Uh, yeah…” Duff mumbled, zipping his pants and avoiding her gaze as he blushed in spite of himself. The lustful haze that had been clouding his head was starting to dissipate and he was being confronted with the reality of the situation. Still, he wasn’t regretting it yet. “Yeah, it was.”
She just smiled at him, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew what he was thinking. “You should probably get back out there,” she said after a long pause. “You’ve still got a show to play, rockstar.”
He laughed as she brushed past him, following her out of the stall and watching as she fixed her lipstick in the mirror. He knew she was right; in a few moments, they’d both leave the bathroom and this whole event behind. But he didn’t want to, and he’d be lying if he said he did. What else could he do? She turned and reached for the door handle, and without thinking, he stopped her.
“W-Wait, wait a second,” Duff said, clearing his throat awkwardly. His hand was wrapped around her wrist, tight enough that he could feel her pulse quicken just a little. Her eyes flickered with hope, just for a second, and just for a second Duff felt it too. “...don’t tell anyone about this, yeah?”
He hated himself for saying it, hated himself for the way that it made her face fall, her eyes going dark and dull again, her gaze falling to the floor. She nodded, and he knew she understood. It was fun, but that’s all it was. All it could be.
He kissed her one last time, slow and deep, savoring every second; the taste of tobacco on her tongue, the smell of her perfume, the feeling of her in his hands. A minute later, she was gone and he was stumbling towards the stage, running into his band and muttering a lame excuse to their questions of “Where the hell have you been?!”Duff knew he wouldn’t forget about her, he knew that even trying to would be pointless. He also knew he’d never regret that night, no matter how much he should or how guilty he felt for cheating. The only thing he regretted was not getting her number, not asking to see her again. God, he didn’t even ask for her name. And yet somehow – he didn’t even know how it was possible – he had fallen in love that night.
I can hear his thoughts as he kisses me, our tongues twisting together hungrily. They’re all along the lines of “I shouldn’t be doing this,” or something like that. He’s probably right. Duff has a beautiful wife that he adores, and two daughters – both older than me – that he loves more than anything. But ever since we met a few months ago at a bar in New York, he hasn’t been able to keep himself away from me. Every time we fuck, he tells me it’s the last time as he walks out the door.
We’ve had about 7 “last times” in the past 5 months.
I don’t mind at all, I like being his dirty little secret. And it’s not just sex that keeps him coming back for more. He can talk to me about things in a way that he can’t with almost anyone else. He can be honest and angry and brutal and he doesn’t have to worry about me telling anyone or judging him for what he says. I’ve always been a good listener. I love being someone that he comes to for comfort, I love playing with his hair and listening to him ramble about anything and everything in his life, I love getting calls from him in the middle of the night when he’s miles away in Seattle but still needs to hear my voice or tell me about something that happened that day. I love being the drug he can’t quit.
“Fuck,” he groans as I pull away from his lips and drag my tongue over his pulse. “I really need to stop doing this…”
I smile against his skin and dig my teeth into his neck, sucking and biting at it and making him moan underneath me. He pulls me into his lap, one of his hands tangling in my hair and the other one gripping my ass. He yanks my head away from his neck by tugging on my hair and pressing his lips against mine. I let my tongue slide across his lips, the taste of the cigarettes we shared earlier this evening lingering on his mouth and driving me even more wild with desire. I rolled my hips against his, grinding on him in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building between my legs. My hands wander into his long bleached hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at his hair playfully. I can feel his cock hardening underneath me when I bite down on his lip, and I smile pulling away from him slightly.
“Christ, you’re so handsome,” I murmur, my lips brushing against his as I stare into his eyes.
Duff grins, licking his lips as he glances down at my tits in the tiny tank top I’m wearing. All at once, he gets up from the couch, carrying me with him into the bedroom and throwing me onto my bed. I watch with hungry eyes as he takes off the leather jacket he’s wearing and pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it across the room. He leans over me, reconnecting our lips as he tugs at my clothes; I’m not wearing much, I was just laying around my apartment when Duff showed up, so I’ve only got on my tank top and underwear.
“Goddamnit, you’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, rubbing his hands up and down my body after throwing away my clothes like they offended him. He drags his lips across my tits, playing with the silver piercings adorning my nipples.
I moaned as he toyed with me, and I let my own hands wander over his body. I traced his chest and stomach with my nails, scratching along his spine and tucking my fingers into his waistband. I can feel his thick, hard, cock pressing into me, and it’s making me even more hot than I already am. My hands shake with desire as I fumble with his belt and the button on his pants, trying to get them off. He laughs darkly.
“You’re needy, aren’t you?” Duff says. His hand slowly travels down my body, between my legs, and he pushes his fingers inside me, forcing a loud moan out of my mouth. “Jesus, you’re so wet…”
“Fuck Duffy, that feels so good,” I whimper, arching my back into his touch. I dig my nails into his back, holding him close as his fingers move in and out of me at a painfully slow pace. The tension building in my stomach is driving me insane, and I need more. “Please,” I whisper, sliding my hand into his pants and wrapping it around his cock, stroking him firmly. “Please, Duff. Please fuck me!”
“Yeah, baby, beg for it,” he groans. “You sound so hot when you’re desperate.”
I let my thumb rub over his slit, smiling when he hisses in pleasure. “Please, please, please,” my voice comes out in short breaths, begging him for more. “Duff I need you, please, I need to feel you!”
Finally, finally, he gives in. He sits up and tugs off his pants, tossing them aside and grabbing onto my legs, pushing them far apart. I’m nearly holding my breath as he pushes inside me, both of us moaning at the feeling of his cock filling me up. I grab onto his arms, my dark red nails digging into his skin as he starts thrusting at a steady pace. Every time he moves, I can feel his dick pressing into my sweet spot, making my toes curl and my eyes roll to the back of my head. Above me, Duff is cursing to himself under his breath and I smile slightly, wondering what’s going through his head right now.
Is it about how wrong this all is?
Guilt over lying to his wife and going behind her back?
Something about how good my tight, wet cunt feels around his cock?
Or is his head completely empty, nothing but euphoria and the feeling of my body on his?
I’m pretty sure I know the answer because at that moment, he grabs onto my thighs, hooking my knees over his shoulders and forcing himself even further inside me. I nearly scream at the feeling of his dick pressing so deep into my stomach; I can feel every vein on his shaft as he fucks me harder and faster, his hands on my waist pulling me into him with every thrust.
“Oh god,” I moan, my eyes fluttering closed. “You fuck me so good. Do you fuck your wife like this, hm?”
Anger flashes through him and I feel his hand covering my mouth, forcing it closed and nearly cutting off my airflow for a moment. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. I open my eyes to see him glaring down at me, but his aggressive expression only makes me want him more. “Fucking brat, just shut up and take it like a good girl.”
I nod my head quickly. As much as I love pissing him off, I love making him happy even more. He moves his hand away from my mouth and I gasp for air, my chest heaving. I grin, watching him stare down at my body, completely bare and exposed for him. It doesn’t matter what he says, I know that it turns him on. My age, that is. He loves fucking my young, tight pussy as much as I love letting him use me like a fucking whore.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, confirming my thoughts.
“God, Duff, you feel so good inside me,” I whimper, clutching at his arms, my nails digging into his tattoos. The knot in my stomach is getting tighter and tighter, and I can feel myself getting closer as he pushes himself deeper into me. “I-I’m so close…don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
I hear him laugh darkly above me, and a second later I feel his fingers press against my clit. The sudden touch makes me moan loudly, which in turn makes him laugh again. His fingers work in quick, rough circles, turning me into a squirming, whining mess underneath him. My legs start to shake as he continues his abuse of my pussy, fucking me harder and harder into the mattress.
“Cum for me, baby girl,” he growls in my ear. “Cum all over my fucking cock.”
His voice is enough to send me over the edge, and I scream as he pinches my clit lightly, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through me. My nails drag over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, leaving cherry red marks all over his skin. He moans loudly, feeling my cunt squeeze and grip his dick even harder than before. Not long after, I feel his cock twitching and the warmth of his cum pouring into my stomach.
He falls onto the bed beside me, pulling me into his arms and holding me close, his cock still inside me. His hands drift over my body, the gentle touch of his fingertips on my skin making me shiver. I let my head fall back against his chest, reveling in the heat of his body. He’s so much taller than me that I feel like a stuffed animal or a doll in his arms, fragile and vulnerable, but somehow also safe.
“Jesus Christ, what are you doing to me…” he mumbles, more to himself than to me.
I giggle softly at his statement. “I’m not making you stay…” I whisper. As much as I love the time we spend together, I wouldn’t mind if Duff never came back. I barely ever call or visit him, unless he asks me to, and I live my own life happily. He’s the one that keeps coming back. He’s the one that can’t stop. And we both know this.
He sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But you don’t make it easy to leave,” he laughs quietly.
“Is that so?” I say teasingly, my lips brushing against his chest. I smile at the feeling of him tightening his grip on me as I slowly trace the contours and edges of his muscles with my long red nails. I press my lips onto his skin, kissing and biting him gently, which earns me a few soft moans from him.
I can feel his cock getting hard again inside me – we still haven’t moved from the position we were in a moment ago, still locked in each other’s arms – and he grabs onto my throat, forcing my head upwards and kissing me hard, taking my breath away in the process. He rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him and grabbing onto my hips, moving them over his slowly and making both of us moan into the kiss. His tongue massages against mine, and my eyes flutter closed as my hands wander up his chest, tracing my fingers over the marks I left there just a few minutes ago. I hold his face in my hands as he kisses me deeply, groaning as he grinds my hips back and forth.
I’m surprised that he’s ready to go again so soon, but I’m not complaining about it. The only problem is that I’m still so sensitive from the last orgasm he gave me, and when he starts thrusting into me again I can’t help the small whimpers and whines of pain that spill from my lips. I pull away from his lips, burying my face in his chest and biting on my lip to try and keep myself quiet.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Duff asks and I smile. I know that’s his favorite nickname for me and it’s mine too; it always makes my stomach flutter with butterflies.
“N-Nothing,” I stammer as he thrusts his hips sharply, his dick slamming into my sweet spot. “I’m just a little sore…” I moan loudly as he grips my waist, rolling my hips and forcing me to feel every inch of him inside me.
“Want me to go slow?” He asks, his voice soft and low. He lifts me up again, pulling almost all the way out of me.
I nod, and the next thing I know he’s let go of me, making me slam back down on his cock and forcing a scream of pleasure from my lips. I dig my nails into his shoulders, my back arching of its own volition and my eyes rolling back in my head a little.
“Go on,” Duff says. His eyes are dark with lust but there’s an amused look on his face. I shoot him a quizzical glance, not sure what he means, and he smiles. “Fuck yourself on my dick.”
My face turns red underneath his intense gaze, but I obey. I start moving slowly, placing my hands on his stomach as I ride him. I know he’s watching me, and for some reason it makes my cheeks hot with embarrassment so I close my eyes. I don’t realize until a moment later when his hand comes crashing down on my thigh that it’s a bad idea. I yelp at the pain, my eyes flying open.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Duff smirks. He reaches up, his hand wrapping around my throat and pulling me closer to him. “If you look away again, I won’t let you get away with it so easy.”
“Ok,” I whisper, nodding as best as I can.
“Good girl,” he grins, letting go of my throat and grabbing onto my hips again, moving them slowly, but still faster than I had been.
I let him take control, focusing instead on keeping my eyes on his. My mind is screaming at me to look away – it’s hard not to be self-conscious when he’s staring at me like that – but my thigh is still stinging from where he slapped me. My embarrassment fades as I watch him looking me up and down, biting on his lip as he starts fucking me faster and faster, chasing his release as my moans get louder and my nails claw at his chest and stomach. I have to fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head as he slams into me over and over again, and eventually I can’t help it anymore and they flutter closed as a loud moan leaves my lips. Another harsh slap comes down on my thigh and then another and another. He stops his thrusts and I whine, grinding my hips desperately. I look back at him with pleading eyes, but his expression holds no remorse.
“What did I just say?” Duff growls.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter. I’ve never seen this side of him before.
In half a second Duff has me on my hands and knees, my back forced into an arch and my ass on display for him. I scream into my blankets as he slaps me again and again, each stinging red handprint making my pussy wetter. By the time he’s done, I’m aching for his touch between my legs.
“Duffy…” I whimper. “Please…”
I hear him chuckling darkly. I feel his big hand gently caressing the bruised flesh of my ass before sliding between my legs, his fingers pushing inside me and making me moan loudly. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me. My little slut…”
I open my mouth to speak again, to beg for more, but then he’s shoving his cock inside me and the moan that leaves my lips is almost pornographic. I was already getting close before he bent me over and started spanking me, and now that he’s slamming into me faster and harder than ever I can tell it’s not going to take long until I see stars. My hands claw at the blankets on my bed, my back arching and my teeth digging into my lip as Duff’s cock crashes into my sweet spot over and over again. I can feel my pussy start to spasm and clench around his dick and I know I’m dangerously close.
“Duff, I’m gonna cum!” I cry.
“No you’re not,” he hisses. “Not until I say so.”
A loud whine rips from my throat as I struggle to hold off my orgasm, which only gets more difficult as Duff gets closer to his and starts fucking me faster than I considered possible. I bite my lip so hard that the skin breaks and the taste of blood fills my mouth. Tears prickle my eyes as my legs shake from the intense pleasure rippling through me. I can feel myself losing control and I know I can’t hold on any longer.
“Duffy, please!” I scream.
“Jesus– fuck,” he curses, his thrusts getting sloppier. “Cum for me, baby girl.”
The knot in my stomach explodes and I cum harder than I ever have before, my vision going blurry and my body vibrating. It feels like there are fireworks – supernovas – going off throughout my entire being and I scream Duff’s name until I’m sure I’ll be hearing from my neighbors tomorrow. My cunt squeezes around his cock so tightly that I can feel every vein in my stomach and I can hear him moaning as his hips still, his dick twitching inside me.
After my orgasm has run its course, my body feels thoroughly exhausted and I go limp, falling into my mattress. Duff laughs softly and I smile at the feeling of his big hands gently caressing the red handprints on my ass and thighs. I whimper as he pulls out of my oversensitive pussy and I feel his cum dripping down my legs. A moment later, he leans over and presses a kiss onto my shoulder.
“You look so pretty like this,” he whispers, his breath sending shivers over my exposed skin. He pulls me onto his lap, holding me close to his chest as he sits back, leaning against the headboard. “You did so good, baby. Such a good girl for me….”
“You’re so sweet, Duffy,” I mumble, nuzzling my face into his neck subconsciously. It used to surprise me how sweet Duff always is after sex. The first few times we fucked, I expected him to just leave like all the other hookups I’d ever had – especially considering the situation.
But he didn’t leave. He would always stay and hold me. And sometimes if we’d gotten especially wild he’d get in the shower with me and help me clean up. Sometimes we would lay in bed for hours, watching movies, talking and laughing together. And he always kissed me. And he always held me like I was something delicate, something to be cared for.
“Was I too rough?” He asks, gently tracing his fingertips up and down my thigh.
I smile a little. “Not at all,” I say. “I loved it.”
Duff chuckles softly. “Good, I’m glad. I loved it too.”
I can feel myself drifting off into sleep as I listen to the sound of Duff’s heartbeat. A small voice in the back of my mind is telling me to pay attention to the butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but I’m too worn out to think about that right now. So instead I let myself fall asleep in his arms, reveling in his affection, so different from anything else I’ve ever known.
The next morning, I wake up alone. The spot next to me is empty, and Duff’s clothes are gone. I try to get out of bed, but I can’t get very far with how sore my body is. I smile to myself, thinking back to last night. He was fucking relentless, fucking me harder than he’s ever done before. There are bruises, hickeys, and scratches all over me, my skin marked with proof of how he ravaged me. Eventually I get out of bed and make my way around the apartment, looking to see if Duff is still hanging around. But he’s nowhere to be found in my small home. There is, however, a note on my tiny kitchen table. I recognize Duff’s handwriting instantly and I look over the note that appears to have been scribbled down hastily.
That was the last time. Take care of yourself. I hope I’ll see your pretty face around sometime. –Duffy
At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought that the note was another empty promise Duff made to himself, but after several weeks of hearing nothing, I realize that he’s gone for good. I feel an unexpected sense of sadness and loss. Duff never took me out, never treated me like a girlfriend or even a mistress. The only times we were in public together were when he would meet me at the club where I work, and even then he was careful and the visits were rare. I was his secret. And still, he managed to make me feel so special.
Time goes by and I move on, I don’t think about Duff at all. That is until I start throwing up, and feeling more tired than usual, and my period doesn’t come when it should, doesn’t come at all. I know what’s wrong even before I take the test, but nothing could prepare me for the feeling that washes over me as I stand in the bathroom of my tiny, shitty New York apartment, staring down at the little pink plus sign on the drugstore pregnancy test in my hands. I burst into tears, falling to the ground and sobbing uncontrollably.