Barbie

I got the makeup first, since he’s right, my face looks hideous. The old bruise Brick gave me is already turning green under the fresh one that’s still mostly dark blue. I applied the foundation right there in the store, since I can do that in a matter of minutes after all these years of watching online tutorials about how to cover pretty much any kind of bruise or cut with makeup. But there’s nothing I can do about my eye that’s half shut. Though in my experience that’ll be alright by tomorrow morning.

Ice gave me his whole wallet with over seven hundred dollars in it and just let me walk off. That made no sense to me when I first counted the money, but I figured it out while I was picking out clothes to buy. He probably did it so I’d have a chance to leave if that’s what I wanna do. He’s warned me I should often enough by now, and I’m starting to understand he’s not the kinda guy who likes repeating himself more than once.

However, what he doesn’t seem to understand is that I have nowhere to go, and he also doesn’t know that I dreamed and daydreamed about leaving the place I was at for years. I didn’t try to leave, because I figured wherever I ended up would probably be the same kinda shit in a different place, just like it’s always been. But he’s been successfully showing me there might be a better place out here for me, so I mean to stick around.

Right off the bat, he acted like a better man than any I’ve ever met before, and now he keeps doing it by giving me all this money, which is, more or less, enough to start a new life with. Especially for someone who’s never had more than three-hundred dollars to her name at any one time.

That’s how much I took from his wallet and stashed in the lining of my red dress after I changed out of it in the dressing room. I wanna stick around and find out if he actually is a better man than all the rest, or if what he’s done for me was just a fluke, because he’d had too much to drink, and a play of circumstances afterwards. But I’m not completely dumb either, and I’ve been making my own way in this world for a long time. It’s always good to have a Plan B.

But for now, Plan A is still looking pretty good. He’s grinning at me as I walk up, and I’m glad I decided to wear the cut off jean hot pants I got instead of the normal jeans I also bought. I’m wearing just a tight tank top with them, even though the evening wind is damn cold and giving me goose bumps all over. It’s gonna make me start shivering in a second, but for now that hot look of desire in his eyes is keeping the worst of its bite away.

“How’s this for covering my face?” I ask once I reach him, turning my head to the side. I got the good makeup, which covered up my entire bruise. “Or where you thinking something more like a scarf?”

He shakes his head and grins even harder. I wish it did something for the winter in his eyes, but it doesn’t. It’s still colder than the ice age in there.

“I was thinking I’d give it another half an hour before deciding you’d split,” he says. “And I was also thinking you’d get some warmer clothes. I thought you knew all about riding on the back of bikes. Winter is almost here.”

It’s already here, as far as you’re concerned.

I don’t say that. Instead I open the bag and show him the leather jacket I also got, along with some of the lacy kind of underwear I went a little wild on, since he gave me so much to spend. “I did get some warmer stuff, see. And I got boots.”

I hike up my leg and place it on the back of his bike to give him a better look, though I’m sure he already noticed them. He likes seeing my legs spread open wide so close to him, I can see that despite that winter in his eyes. Or maybe I just feel it.

“I hope you kept the heels too,” he says, which just makes me certain I was right. “Those were hot.”

“And here’s your wallet back,” I say and hand it to him.

He pockets it without checking how much money is left inside. There could be nothing left and he doesn’t even care. Just one more incredibly intriguing thing about this guy that I really want to figure out. I also really want him to be the one I’ve been looking for all these years. But that’s a faded wish, because I wished it with every guy I liked, and I’ve given up on seeing it come true a long time ago. At this point, I’ll just settle for someone who doesn’t slap me around for every little thing I say or do wrong.

“Thank you,” I add, belatedly remembering what’s left of my manners, but also because I really want him to know I appreciate all his help.

He grabs my ass and pulls me to him, so my pussy is pressed against his rock hard cock.

“How about you save the thank yous for when we get back to the room?” he says, and I don’t like this roundabout way of him calling me a whore again. But I also really want to kiss him, because his lips are so close and he’s still grinning at me, and I want to believe - no, I do believe - that there is more to our arrangement than that.

So that’s what I do. Lean in and kiss him, moan as he grips my ass tighter and grinds his cock into me, sigh as he kisses me back. Because as he does that, our kiss starts to feel like I’m floating with the wispy summer clouds high in the sky, near the sun, lighter than air, and I don’t feel the throbbing pain in my wrist anymore, or the dull pain in my face, or the headache I’ve had for the last two days. I just feel his hard cock throbbing against my stomach and his sweet soft lips against mine. I just feel good.

Then it’s over, and he’s telling me to get on his bike, and, yes, I do want to get back to our room. But I also want to stay right here and keep kissing him, because I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed getting kissed more than I just did.

* * *

He grabs me by the hair and kisses me dirty and fast, as soon as the motel room door clicks shut behind us, pushing me back against it. But despite the wild roughness of it all, I’m as light as a cloud again, feeling things I’ve forgotten I could from just a kiss.

He’s ripping off his clothes and mine, and I help as much as I can with my one good hand. It’s all so dizzyingly fast, his desire for me like a freight train rushing through us both, and igniting mine. Just as I get a good grip on one sensation, another pops up, urgent and wild at first, lasting and fitting and simply perfect the next.

He’s kissing me hard, causing my bruised up face to ache, but that’s just one drop in everything else he’s making me feel. Not even a big drop, just an inconvenience, because I’d rather be whole and complete and healthy for what we’re about to share.

His hands are getting familiar with my breasts and my ass, my stomach and my neck, he’s pushing me against the door, his tongue filling my mouth, tussling with mine as he gropes my soft parts. No part of him is soft. I know, because I’m touching most of them too. Sometimes our hands bump together as we’re switching the parts we want to feel next.

Well, no part of him is soft, except his lips. Those are soft. His cock is rock hard, but the skin covering it is soft too, pure velvet against my palm. I’d love to taste him. He’s breathing hard by the time his lips leave mine and travel down my neck, and so am I.

He yanks down my shorts without undoing the button or zipper first, the sharp tugging pain mixing well with the perfect bliss that’s his lips on the soft spots of my neck, which is aching too, since Brick likes to choke me and that pain never goes away completely, but I’m used to it. And it’s just a distant breeze on the wind tunnel caused by the freight train of our lust.

I yelp as he pushes at least two fingers into my pussy, but he silences me with another kiss. He hooks his fingers and starts pumping them in and out fast and wild, ravaging my pussy while his tongue assaults my mouth, and his other hand digs into the softness of my thigh as it keeps my legs spread. I’m so close to coming by the time his lips move down to my neck again, I’m only capable of making raspy, screechy sounds, even though the good way he’s kissing my neck makes me wanna moan softly and sweetly.

Everything is just a burning mess of pleasure in my mind and in my body, and I’m about to have the kind of orgasm I don’t even remember ever having. It’s almost here, I can almost already feel it, as clearly as I can feel the pulsing of his dick in my hand. I’m trying to stroke it, but can’t because the mix of sensations in my body is already too wild, too unbearable, too much, and I don’t have control over anything anymore.

Then they all vanish in a flash as he withdraws his fingers and stops kissing me.

But the next moment, I’m as light as a cloud again, ensconced in his arms as he carries me to the bed. All my aches and pains explode as he tosses me on the well-used, flimsy mattress, the musty, dusty smell of old linen rising around me.

That hardly registers in my mind though, because his body is covering me, its weight the perfect counter balance to my lightness, his smell the best I’ve noticed in a long time. It’s leather and wind and clean like the clearest water, clear like ice.

“Slowly!” I scream out as he forces the head of his dick into my pussy.

With all the pleasure and bliss and fiery lust overflowing in my brain, I’d forgotten how large he was, forgotten to fear it. But his massive dick is entering me like I’ve never been entered and he’s not going slowly. All I can do is moan and gasp.

His cock is already so deep, but he keeps thrusting it even deeper into me, his face buried in my neck. The sweet, soft pleasure caused by his lips on my tender parts is less than a pop of sensation amid the ones his cock is causing in my pussy, my belly, all the way in my chest. That’s pure fire. Welcome, all-consuming, but frightening at the same time.

“You’re dick is so huge,” I moan or shriek or yelp I don’t even know.

He thrusts his dick even deeper as I say it, and looks at me as he does it, his clear, ice blue eyes the only thing I see as I come so hard, so viciously, so completely, I’m sure something inside me broke, shattered, but in a good way somehow. No part of my body is absent from feeling this orgasm, because it’s impossible not to come on a dick this large, even when it’s tearing you apart, even when you want it slow, even when you’re a slut that’s taken more dicks than I can count. It’s impossible not to orgasm on a dick this huge, it’s pure physics, but pure pleasure too.

My whole body is on fire, my blood carrying the heat and the sparks everywhere. He starts thrusting into me again, going deeper and deeper, and I’d moan and complain, but my voice has already been burned away by the fire. The only two things I know in this moment are that his dick is inside me and that I can’t take it anymore. I can’t come again, or I’ll go mad, or I’ll shatter too, just burn away into a pile of ash.

I’ll pass out if he keeps this up. All the aches and pains in my body are amplified now too, and my pussy is screaming for a breather, for a rest, for all these sensations that the fire in me has raised beyond fever pitch to settle down again into something that won’t kill me. I’m having trouble breathing already.

But he keeps his eyes fixed on me as he fucks me even harder, completely unfazed by the fact that my nails are digging into his flesh and drawing blood, as I try to make him slow down.

“Come, please come now,” I whisper even as I do for the second time, my whole body just a massive, deep lake of smoking hot lava now. I’m gasping for air, which feels hot and sooty. The room is spinning before my eyes, but I see just enough to see him shake his head.

“I can’t…no more…let me suck you off,” I plead, my voice all broken and raspy.

And that finally stops his thrusts, where my shrieking, scratching and begging failed before. He removes his dick in one fast and jarring pull, then crashes down on his back next to me, sending the whole bed shaking. His cock is still rock hard, glistening from my juices, its pulsing visible to the naked eye.

The whole room tilts sideways as I lift up to do as I promised. Now that the fire in my blood is receding, and the burning is lessening in my brain, I’m just grateful for the orgasms he’s given me, because they left behind a soft fuzzy cloud of pleasure in my belly, which is all my own. It’s been awhile since anyone’s fucked me this thoroughly and this well. I’ve been faking orgasms more often than not these last couple of years, and he’s given me two mind-blowing ones in the space of…well, I don’t know how much time has passed since we got back to the room, but I want to give him the same.

He groans as I wrap my lips around the head of his cock. My mouth is just barely wide enough to fit his girth, but he tastes fantastic, even despite my own juices all over him. I already knew he’d taste good, but being proven right stirs the embers, makes flames of desire rise high inside me again, so I get bolder, take more of him, take enough to gag.

“This ain’t gonna work,” he says and yanks his cock from my mouth, disappointed outrage now added to all the other things I’m feeling.

“I’ll make you come real good, I promise,” I say and smile at him, which just makes him frown in an ugly way. Not the reaction I was expecting.

“No, you won’t,” he says and rolls onto his side, pulling the covers over himself. He’s not even giving me a chance, and I’m an expert blowjob giver. I like giving head, it’s my second favorite thing about sex.

I don’t know what to say and I don’t know what to do. I want to convince him some more, but I’m afraid to touch him now, because I’m pretty sure I’ll get backhanded across the face on my first attempt at it. But I also want to finish what we started, and I don’t want to just not speak and go to sleep now. I want his dick in me again. Just slower, less fierce, less wild, more perfect. And I want to taste him some more.

He’s not moving though, and I don’t feel him in the room as strongly as I did a couple of minutes ago, whatever that means. The runaway freight train of his passion has definitely left this station. That’s what it means.

So I don’t say anything and don’t do anything. I just lay down and stay as still as he is, because I don’t want to fuck this up, and because I have no idea how not to.

* * *

Issues. And, boy, does this man have some. I’ve been with guys who either couldn’t get it up, or couldn’t keep it up, and it’s not a pretty thing to go through, but I’ve never been with a guy who could get it on this spectacularly, but then couldn’t come. Or wouldn’t come. I guess that’s what happened. But either way, it’s a first for me, a brand new thing to add to the long list of things I’ve already seen. Don’t know why I’m even surprised, since pretty much everything about this guy is a first for me.

He’s sleeping now, yet I can’t. Every time I move I feel the devastation his dick left in my pussy, but that just reminds me of the pleasure he also gave me, and I want more of that, a whole lot more. After Brick started acting weird and kept demanding I fuck other men while he watched, it got to a point where I’d hardly feel them inside me anymore. I love sex, but that was demeaning and it made me forget just how passionate and wild and pure it could be. Ice reminded me very well tonight. And it could be so much better still, if not for his issues.

Here I am, back full circle to where this thinking that’s keeping me up started. Back full circle to where every one of my relationships began and ended. They’ve all had issues. Every single guy I dated did. And I gave up on trying to fix any of their issues a long time ago, gave it up as a lost cause.

So why’s this guy so different? Why do I go right back to thinking I should try to help him even as I decide—even as I know—that it’s totally pointless?

It is pointless. He’s fire hot one minute and ice cold the next. He’s all nice one minute then rough and demanding the next. The winter in his eyes scares me, but I want to change it to spring. A pointless wish.

I could’ve left with his money earlier and been on my way to a new life now like I’ve been dreaming about doing for months. But I didn’t. I came back here, all set on spending more time with him. All set on running away with him all the way to California. I’m no longer sure that’s such a good idea.

All the running I’ve done in my life has been from the arms of one man into the arms of another. From my sleazy stepfather onwards. And it never turned out how I hoped and wished it would. Now I’ve just found a guy I thought could be better than the rest, but, as it’s fast turning out, he’s also got more issues than the rest.

That’s my shit luck exactly. Should’ve seen it clearer from the start. Maybe I should just leave now.

I’m so sick of remembering all the ways my life is a complete and utter disaster, and I suspect I’ll have plenty of time to do that if I’m on my own. It’s easier to get lost in another adventure, with another man, one who at least has the power to surprise me, and who’s nice to me more often than not. I also like how we just click most of the time. We clicked right from the very beginning back there in the bar. Maybe that means something.

But if he hits me, I’ll split. This time, I’ll draw the line at that and leave right after it happens the first time.

It’s easier to doze off once I come to that decision. I want to get as far away from Brick and Razor as I can, and Ice is alright when he’s not weird as hell. It could be worse, that could be Razor with his rotted teeth snoring beside me.

At least this guy’s got a huge dick, and that goes a long way. He just needs to control it a little better. And I’m sure that’s one issue I can help him with.

* * *

Ice

I spent six years fucking whores and wishing it was different, wishing I had the choice of finding and fucking a girl that wanted to fuck me, because she wanted to and not because she was paid to do it. And then I find one like that and I fuck her like I would one of those whores. Every which way I turn there’s another reminder of how messed up in the head Lizard left me.

Instead of enjoying her like any sane man would, my mind shot me right back to that windowless, stuffy room where I fucked whore after whore until their faces blended together, and they all became just another outlet for the rage and the hate eating me from the inside out. She probably didn’t lie about having no one else to turn to, but this set up we have going is too much like I’m paying for it. I’d blame her for coming on so strong, but my insanity is none of her fault and none of her doing. It’s just all there is now.

The only difference last night was that I wouldn’t stop for any of the whores like I did for her. Maybe that means something, but I doubt it. It just proves I’m a crazy bastard, because even after the crazy subsided, I still couldn’t let her suck me off. I was too afraid it’d come back.

I woke up hating Lizard so bad I’ve been holding the knife I used to kill him, and wishing I could do it all over again, since well before dawn. It’s light out now.

I’m not fit to be around other humans, he took that away from me and I let him take it. All I was still fit for after the Devils freed me was killing them all. And now that’s done and there’s nothing left. It’s a bitter thing to swallow and just keeps getting worse. I should’ve left as soon as I woke up. Now it’s too late again, because she’s opening her eyes.

She blinks a few times, but her eyes widen real quick as she spots what I’m holding.

“What’s with the knife, Ice?” she asks, her voice hoarse from sleep, but she sits up fast, as though she wasn’t just dead to the world a second ago.

She’s a beautiful woman, with perky breasts like two ripe apples and a taut hourglass shaped waistline. I’d enjoy her a lot if I wasn’t this fucked up. I’d enjoy just watching her. However, I am this fucked up.

“Nothing to do with you,” I say and toss the knife on the pile of my stuff by the door. “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

She keeps watching me with narrowed eyes for a couple of seconds, then smiles brightly. Clearly, she decided I’m no threat to her. And that’s her mistake.

“You don’t want to come back to bed?” she asks and moves over to one side, making room for me. “The sun’s not even up yet.”

What the hell is she thinking? She wants me to fuck her again? Why? The scratches she gave me last night as she tried to get me off her are so deep they still sting.

“We better put as much distance between us and the two MCs I pissed off as possible. And as fast as possible,” I tell her.

I can get her to Cali like I promised her. I can do that for her, but that’s where it ends. Because having a good time ain’t gonna happen for us.

“Pity,” she says and smiles at me again, which I suppose is meant to make me reconsider, given how bright it is, but I’m not gonna.

“Get dressed.”

“Alright, fine,” she says and gets off the bed, showing me her perfectly round ass that’s just as firm as those apple breasts of hers. I’d enjoy that ass too, once upon a time that I don’t even remember very clearly anymore.

“But pity,” she ads, glancing at me over her shoulder, which is damn inviting too. Back before, I wouldn’t be able to resist her, and it’s a bitter thing to know that I have no problem doing it now.

I’m done getting reminded of all the ways I’ll never be who I was. Or wishing I could still have what I could’ve had if Lizard didn’t come into my life.

Once we get to Cali, she’ll make someone else happy with her smiles and her readiness to spread those fine legs of hers. And I’ll just stay the fuck away from people—living or dead—after we get there. The ride’ll take a couple of days, but we won’t stop much.

“I’ll wait outside,” I say and grab my stuff, don’t even put on my shirt before leaving the room.

I hope she doesn’t take forever getting ready, because I want to get out on the road. That’s the only reminder of my old life I can still stand.