#2 Talk dirty to me
My body collapses onto his and Joshua holds me close to him, stroking my hair as I slowly come down from the intense high he gave me. After a while he rolls me to my side so he can pull out of me and a gush of his cum stains his sheets. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to care. His arms pull me in closer and he buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply like he’s trying to memorize my scent.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” I ask, a little out of breath.
“For calling you all those horrible names,” he says, sounding genuinely distraught. “I got carried away. I don’t think you’re any of those things. I’m so sorry.”
Without being able to help myself, I start giggling. It’s a very girly sound and a little on the hysteric side. Poor guy. I basically told him to call me a slut and now he’s apologizing to me. How sweet.
“It’s fine,” I assure him when I’m able to talk again. “I like it when you call me a slut.”
“You do?” He pulls back a little so he can look me in the eye. “You… like it?”
Nodding, I prop myself up on one elbow and gaze into his blue eyes. “Yeah, why else would I push you to talk dirty to me, Joshua? And you liked it too, didn’t you? To take advantage of an easy lay like me? To just have your way with me and call me a tramp, a slut, a whore even?”
I can see the lust kindling in his eyes again, even though he’s obviously a bit taken aback by everything I’m saying. He nods slowly, stroking my side, making me giggle again because it’s one of the places I’m ticklish.
“Alright, time to go home,” I decide when it becomes evident that he is going to fall asleep in ten minutes tops. “Bye, Joshua.”
He watches me with a shocked expression on his face as I wipe myself clean on a shirt of his that’s lying on the floor and shimmy back into my dress. I step back into my panties, which immediately become wet because there is still a bit of cum leaking out of me. I know that a lot of girls would find that disgusting, but I’ve always liked the feeling of being marked like that, the idea of a part of the guy that fucked me still being inside of me and letting me know that he’s still there by staining my underwear.
“You can stay the night if you want,” he calls after me when I’m just about to shut the door behind me. “Shaughna! Your phone!”
I run back in and take my phone from him in relief. It would have sucked to lose it here. Quickly, I kiss Joshua one last time. I meant for it to be a quick peck, but he slips in his tongue and before I know it, we’re making out like this is the start of the night instead of the end.
“Oh fuck it,” I mumble against his lips. “Round three?”
He moans into me, hiking up my dress so he can tear off my panties. The useless shreds fall onto the floor next to us, but I don’t have time to think about my ruined undergarment because he’s slipping two fingers inside of me, curling them in the perfect angle.
“Hmm…” I whimper, lowering my body back on the bed so I can get a bit more comfortable while he keeps fingering me.
“You’re insatiable,” Joshua says in a gleeful tone, finger fucking me so roughly that it almost hurts. He rubs his thumb over my clit in quick circles, making me even wetter than I already was. “Come for me, you beautiful whore,” he grunts into my ear. “You magnificent slut. Come on my fingers.”
My body immediately complies, the way it always does. I’ve never been hard to please, as long as there’s dirty talk involved. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about a man making me feel like I’m just a cheap girl he can just use the way he pleases that always gets me going. Breathing hard, I slowly come down from my fourth orgasm this night, enjoying the way Joshua keeps up a slow pace down there, prolonging my pleasure for as long as he can.
“Can I take you again?” Joshua asks, back to his soft-spoken manners.
“Fuck yeah,” I say, more than ready for him. “You can do whatever you want with me, Joshua. No need to ask.”
In response, he flips me onto my belly and moves on top of me, pulling my legs apart as far as they can go. We both groan when he fills me up again, enjoying the new angle. I’m almost completely immobilized in this position, meaning that he’s got full control of me. I don’t always like that – with some guys, it would even scare me – but I trust that Joshua won’t do anything bad to me without asking first, even though I told him that he could do whatever. He’s a good man.
A good man that is once again blowing his load into me directly, a feeling that I don’t get often since I’m so used to condoms these days. While he comes, he keeps calling me names, telling me how cheap and dirty I am. I manage to get one arm underneath myself and use my own fingers to rub my clit as he grunts into my ear. I come right after him, almost crying from how intense it is.
Joshua wants to snuggle up to me after, keep me with him all night. If it were up to him, he’d surely be making me breakfast in the morning. It’s quite obvious that this was the final round though – he’s exhausted and I’m raw – so there’s really no reason for me to not head home. My own bed is more comfortable than anything and I always sleep best without a man in bed with me.
“Bye, Joshua,” I call over my shoulder as I leave his room.
“Call me!” he shouts before the door shuts behind me.
Hmm. Who knows. Maybe I will.
“Two tacos, three weekly specials and one tomato soap!” I call out as I walk into the kitchen, slamming my ticket on the counter. “And make it fast, because those guys are drunk as fuck and they’re about to eat the furniture.”
Kieran, the 40-year-old chef, grins as he repeats my order loudly to his right-hand man Hollister, who is almost 30. Those two are the laziest motherfuckers that I’ve ever met. If I wasn’t in here every ten minutes to yell at them, this restaurant wouldn’t be in business for much longer. I’ve been a waitress here since I started college which was… wow. Seven years ago. I’m no longer in college, of course, but I’ve still got the same crappy waitress job along with a gig as a bartender in a club nearby every so often and the occasional offer to help out at events. This is not what I got my business degree for, but I just don’t know what else to do with my life. Hell, I don’t even know what sort of job I’d like to apply for. And I like being around lots of people, chatting and flirting and yelling. So yeah, it’s not the best life ever, but I can pay my bills and have some fun. It’s good. For now.
“Looking good, Shaughna,” a fellow waiter tells me when I walk back into the diner area of the restaurant. I slept with him a few months ago and he’s been trying to get back into my pants ever since, flirting and winking and buttering me up. He wasn’t any good though, so nothing he can possibly try is going to work on me.
“Yes, I sure look good,” I agree instead of returning the compliment. A few of my regular customers laugh when they overhear our little conversation and I throw them a wink. Flirting is great for my tips, and it makes this job a hell of a lot more fun.
When I get back to the kitchen with some more orders and to pick up the dishes I called out earlier, I catch Hollister glancing at me a little longer than usual. Hmm. Interesting. He’s got a girlfriend and I don’t do unavailable guys even when they’re hot, but it’s nice to be appreciated even when we’re both not going to do anything about it. If it wasn’t for his girl, I’d be all over him for sure. Then again, it was only one lingering look. Nothing more. Wouldn’t be the first time I’m overestimating my own charms.
By the end of my shift, I don’t feel quite as hot as I did at the start. I’m covered in tomato soup – thank you, drunken customers – and the tips weren’t as good as I had hoped, despite my incessant flirting with every single guy with a pulse. Maybe I’ve lost my touch.
My phone buzzes when I finally leave the restaurant. With a smile, I open the text from my best friend. It sucks that Caroline moved away for her new job, but I know it’s for the best. She was slowly wilting away here, forced to watch her ex move on while she was living with her parents.
“Hey, Shaughna, hold up!”
I turn around with my phone if my hand to see Hollister running out of the back door that leads to the kitchen. He’s holding my purse, waving it over his head.
“You’re a life saver!” I don’t normally leave my stuff behind at work, but I’m drained tonight. I need a little pick-me-up. In my mind, I’m already contemplating who to call tonight. I could go dancing, or out for cocktails, or maybe just go on the apps to see if there’s a guy who is worthy of my time.
“You’re welcome, babe.” Hollister winks at me, the one open blue eye sparkling at me in the dark. I love guys who have light eyes like his combined with dark hair. He’s got a beautiful disarray of deep brown curls, flowing onto his shoulders. I’d love to run my hands through it…
When I turn around to cross the last few feet to my car, I suddenly feel a hand closing around my wrist. Hollister spins me around and pulls me closer, his lips slightly parted as he leans in.
“Oh no,” I tell him, pushing against his chest. “Not gonna happen, man. Turn around and go back to the kitchen. Your shift it not over yet.”
He tries to pull me in again, grunting when I jerk away from him. “Come on, babe, we’ve been doing this dance for ages now. It’s over between me and Jane. I figured I might as well make a move.”
“You broke up with your girlfriend?” Now that is interesting. Very interesting. “When?”
Hollister pulls a hand through his wild hair. “Yeah, well, she’s still in London so I’m waiting for her to get back next week before I can break up with her, but it’s basically-”
“It’s basically cheating for you to make a move on me,” I finish for him snidely. I may be a slut, but I draw the line at guys who aren’t free to do whatever they want. Open relationship? Sure, count me in. But saying you’re going to break up and moving on before she knows you are no longer committed? Not cool. “Next time you make a move, better make sure you’re single,” I warn him.
“Shaughna, I swear-”
“Bye, Hollister.” I jump into my car and turn up the radio so I can’t hear him shouting at me. Goddamn asshole. This is not the pick-me-up I need.
When I come back home, I’m in such a bad mood that I know only going out dancing will help. I rush through the motions of getting ready and eat a sandwich so I won’t get stupid drunk after only a few shots. Half an hour later – very fast for me – I’m ready to head out.