Neon Red [Order The eBook] [Zayn]

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(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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"They say nothing is wasted, either that or everything is."

Charles Bukowski | Dark Night Poem

(Paraphrased by Harry Styles)

Bogota, Columbia

May 2014

She was almost too wet. At times I couldn't feel anything, just the continuous, fruitless motion. And she moved so wildly it was hard for us to find a coordinated tempo. Holy fuck, she just needed to take a backseat and let me handle it. I was topping here, not her. Didn't she get it? Her lustful shrieks had been nonstop since I parted her legs. The concierge would descend at any moment. Good god, it was hot in here. The humidity had a chokehold on the room. Sweat dripped into my eyes. The salt rimming around my lips. The sheets would be drenched by the time we finished. I could feel it beading at my temples too, and along my ropey spine. Falling into the crack of my thrusting ass.

"I'm ready, I'm ready!" she panted, seizing up beneath me. I felt her orgasm around my cock and that sent me to the moon. I came explosively right after her, juddering and doubling over until the sensation abated. Then a guilt-ridden soundlessness filled the room. Like the moments after you realized you'd offed someone.

I withdrew; cock flopping out of her with a wretched slosh. I slid the rubber off, which was oily with goo, and dropped it into the bin beside the bed. Now I simply kneeled there, siting on my legs and allowing the post-nut self-loathing to commence. I deserved to be bodied by it. I needed to feel hideous and minuscule right now as penance for what I'd done. It always played out this way.

"Go again?" she asked, in her confused, accented way.

"Noh." Please just stop speaking.

This bird was strange. Not nearly as cute as I thought she was when I was wasted last night. This was the first brunette I'd been with in a while. Not many blondes in Columbia, I suppose. She was dark too, and spoke with a thick, exotic accent. Nasty as fuck. She'd gone right back to playing with herself moments after we finished—legs spread, fingers rubbing her clit.

When she caught me starring, she grinned through a veil of long disheveled waves, and I genuinely considered calling an exorcist. It stirred nothing close to desire within of me. In fact, she reeked. I hadn't noticed the odor before, because I'd been dying to bust since I woke up this morning, but she wasn't exactly the most hygienic person I'd ever been with. That was probably because we were on round two and hadn't showered in-between. We were both pretty ripe, I'd expect.