Storm, Meet Raine

Never Again (Part 2).

HER.

     "Bam!" I yell, looking at my phone that's leaning against the mirror in the bathroom that's inside the dorm room that I now share with Carson fucking Speros.

The pretty chick with naturally tanned skin runs back to her screen, while she pulls her dark, straightened hair up into a high ponytail. "Hey, Raine! Oooh, who are you looking cute for?" She practically screams into the phone (thank God I don't have my earphones in) before pulling her ponytail tighter from the root, and picking up her phone, giving me a nice shot of her eyebrows, as usual.

"The guy that thinks I'm going to suck his dick in the showers after his game." I shrug, twisting open my mascara before scraping off the sides against the thin tube and applying the dark stuff to the eyelashes on my right eyelid.

"Please tell me the guy you'll be kneeling before is Storm," she all but squealed, pulling the phone back and showing me her bright smile, her cat eyes thinning as she smiles, hiding her brown pupils from me.

I moved to the other eye once I had finished making my right eye give Minnie Mouse's a run for her money. Bambi quickly commented on how great I did that eye. "It's Carson," I grumbled, hating how everyone calls him 'Storm'. Sure, when he smacks a baseball with his baseball bat that was custom painted a pretty ash color—the color of his steely grey eyes when they're angry—it sounds like thunder, but they don't have to make such a big deal about it by naming him after a darn thunderstorm. "And he wishes I'll be on my knees," I scoff.

     "I think you secretly want to," her dark eyes light up when she sees me hesitate. I quickly blame it on the poor connection within our dorm room. "Nope! That was all you, babe. You want to get on your knees and swallow that fine man's dick—I'm not judging." She smirks.

     "You're a bitch."

     "I'm your bitch." She counters, sending me an air-kiss with her full lips.

     "I'm not sucking him off," no matter how tempting it is. "I shouldn't have even let him fuck me last night." I mumbled to myself, but the audible gasp from Bambi told me she heard me just fine. I closed my eyes tightly as she screeched so loud, I swear I heard the mirror crack.

     "No fucking way! How was it? I bet he's a monster in the sheets..." I let her ramble on as I bit my lip, thinking about Carson. Last night was...great. My craving for sex was sated, and I felt oddly relaxed afterward. So relaxed that I passed out just minutes after I came, but why is it that I feel a bit disappointed?

     Not in myself, before you start thinking I'm some typical female who goes into this state of self sadness because 'I'm not the kind of girl who puts her body out there.' I am. I'm confident in my body. I don't mind casual sex every now and then, but damnit, it's so hard to find people to have sex with!

     I haven't had sex with many people, but all of them added together couldn't really amount to how I felt while being between the dark sheets, tangled up with Carson. But with all the hype I've heard from Cherry—one of his old flings, to his new one, India, you'd think I'd be like on of them: wailing about his skills. Even the cheerleaders talk. Cherelle was yapping about their little time in Texas in the cafeteria. 'Best night of my life!'

I feel that he's holding back. That there's more to him than what he gave me. I'm not determined to find out, though. That'll have me wanting to have sex with him again, desperate to pull more tricks out of his magic dick. Getting back in bed with him is the last thing I want to do, even though, we technically have to get back in bed together because there's only one bed. Le sigh. "He definitely has a monster under his boxers, I'll tell you that." I grinned at my friend who started to fan her face.