lethal | hs

/03/

~~*~~
'Hot Shot'

My shaky hand finds its way onto the cigarette gripped in between my lips, pulling it from the loose gap. I release my exhale up into the air above, taking my hand over to brush the hair off the shoulders of the girl riding me. My breath hitches from both the smoke and moans, as I weakly travel my cigarette over to her lips. She continues to rock against my cock as she inhales smoke, both of her hands pressed on my tatted chest to keep me flat against the back of the couch.

With smoke still leaving her mouth, she's burying her face in the fold of my neck, kissing down each tattoo through her moans. Her nails dig into the sides of my shoulder, and my thighs start to feel the shake of her own. The sweet sound of her whimpers causes my head to fall back, and all I do is close my eyes to the sound of her sensational orgasm.

With her chin resting on my shoulder, her chest still firm on mine, she stops. The halt of her motions only causes me to lean over, kissing under her ear as I travel up to whisper, "Stay. Lemme feel you a little longer."

I slide the burnt out cigarette onto the tray beside the couch, moving my free hands down her skin. The smooth sensation is something I can't get enough of, and as I slowly start to rock up into her, she fumbles back down onto me, "I can't- I can't," she shakes her head, each word heavy with exhaustion, "You've worn me out."

"I like makin' you feel good," I kiss over to her collarbone, up her neck. Her tired breath hits my own skin, "that's why."

She kisses me, running her hands down my bare abdomen before pulling back, "And I love it," she mumbles, "but if I keep going, I might faint. I never realized how good you were at this."

"Take a break then," I encourage, running my lips across her skin for a few more seconds. "I'll be here every night, more than happy to take you back upstairs."

It's almost like she can't resist herself, she kisses me again. Her head pushes forward, knocking my back further into the couch. She runs her hands up through my sweaty hair, almost like she's fighting herself to pull away. Finally she climbs off of me, heading over to throw her clothes on. Her legs stumble slightly with her first few steps, struggling to hold her up almost.

Eventually, I stand up too, following the same pattern. I tug my wife beater tank top back over my head, wiping the sweat from off my forehead as I do so. It doesn't take long for me to grab up my beige colored pants, sliding my belt through each loop carefully. I pull the leather tight to my waist, making sure it's secure before I throw on my corduroy jacket. I can already feel the heat of the room starting to overcome me, even as I roll up the oversized sleeves.

"My friends are probably looking for me," the girl tells me as she heads over to the door that leads back downstairs. Her hand grips the door knob as she turns to give me a half smile, "but the next time we run into each other, I'll make sure that they know I'll be gone for longer."

I say nothing more as she leaves, watching as her feet trail her down the staircase, back into the booming bar below us. The second she's gone, I throw myself back onto the couch, sinking down in exhaustion. She was good. Brunette, long curls. But that's almost how all of my hookups are... just good. While they're happening I feel great, but when it's over I feel even worse than I did prior.

I know that once I walk back downstairs into Serpent's Den, the only bar on this side of town that I actually enjoy, Slick's agonzing complaints are going to fill my ears. I was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago to play pool. Once he finds out I was on the upstairs couch fucking another girl he's going to interogate me again, and with my mentality right now, I really don't want to reassure him again that I'm fine.