Underground Kings

His truck led the way to a motel about ten minutes away, and I followed in my car. He signaled me to park next to his truck before he disappeared into the office.

The motel wasn’t anything special, but the well-kept shrubs and fresh paint job made it clear that this wasn’t the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour like the seedy joint near the club.

The sign out front advertised a rate of one hundred and nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents a night. That was pretty standard for Chicago, but the price tag made me sweat. Suddenly, the six-dollar drink I’d splurged on earlier seemed like small change.

What if I wasn’t worth the cost?

I kept my eyes glued to the frosted office door, half expecting him to vanish. Eight minutes later, he emerged, key in hand. My stomach twisted. He gestured towards the back of the motel before climbing back into his truck. I followed suit, parking next to him once again.

The back of the motel was dark and deserted. The only light came from dim, yellow lamps swarmed by bugs. The surrounding buildings loomed in the darkness like sleeping dragons, their snores the low hum of appliances. It wasn’t exactly safe, but then again, that was part of the appeal. Still, there was a limit to how much danger I found enticing.

He didn’t approach my car. Instead, he unlocked the motel room and waited.

I could leave. He probably wouldn’t chase after me. Even if he did, if I drove somewhere safe—assuming such a place existed—he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

But his patient silence gave me the courage to step out of the car and join him.

The stale air and sharp scent of cleaning supplies brought back memories. I’d once accompanied my dad on a trip in his eighteen-wheeler. He usually slept at truck stops, but with me along, he’d opted for motel rooms. It felt odd to be in a place I associated with childhood memories, knowing I was here for a casual hookup.

Once inside, I placed my purse on the chair upholstered in floral fabric.

Colin reached out, his finger tracing my jawline. His eyes, almost black in the dim room, studied mine. I thought he was going to take me right then and there, but instead he said, “I’m going to make coffee.”

I blinked. Coffee. “Okay.”

He busied himself with the coffeemaker while I sat in the chair, clutching my purse in my lap like I was waiting for a doctor’s appointment, not a night of rough sex.

He handed me a cup of coffee, already sweetened and lightened with cream. I took a few sips, the warm liquid calming some of the nerves I hadn’t realized I had. He didn’t make a cup for himself.

Enough of this.

I set the cup down on the cracked countertop and stood up to kiss him. I kept it light, teasing, hoping to stoke his desire. This was all a calculated game of risk and power.

He kissed me back gently, as if he didn’t realize the game had begun. His body remained still, but his mouth explored mine, tasting and teasing.

It wasn’t a magical kiss. There were no angels singing, no fireworks. But he wasn’t too rough or too eager or too anything. For me, it was perfect.

I moved against him, my body finding a rhythm born of practice. His hands came up, one cupping my face, the other wrapping around my body.

I sighed.

He guided me backward, and we made out against the round, faux-wood table. His hands roamed over my sides, my back, avoiding the more intimate areas as if we were two teenagers fooling around in our parents’ basement. The thought made me shudder. This wasn’t right. His touch was too light. I was already half under him, my hips cradling his, so I surged up and nipped at his lip. As expected, his body jerked, and he thrust his hips down onto me.

Yes. That’s what I need. I relaxed my body, surrendering to him.

“Bed,” he murmured against my lips.

We undressed simultaneously, both eager. I wanted to see his body, to take in what he was offering me, but the room was too dark. Then he was kissing me back onto the bed, and there was no more time for wondering. The cheap bedspread felt rough and cool against my skin. His hands moved over my breasts, then played gently with my nipples.

My body responded, melting under his touch, but something was off.

I’d encountered this issue before. Not everyone liked it rough, but I was surprised that I’d misread him. His muscles were hard, his fingers calloused. I didn’t understand how he could touch me so gently. Everything about him suggested he could hurt me, so why didn’t he?

I wanted him to take me, to use me, but every sweet caress shattered the illusion. My fantasy was to let him do whatever he wanted with me, but not like this.

“Harder,” I said. “I need it harder.”

But his touch only became gentler. The hand that had been holding my breast traced the curve around and under.

I groaned in frustration. “What’s wrong?”

He reached down, still panting, and lightly touched my pussy, then stroked upward through the wetness. I gasped, my hips following his finger.

“You like this,” he said.

Yes, I liked it. I was undeniably turned on, but too aware. I needed the oblivion that came with being taken. “I like it better rough.”

Colin frowned. His expression was fierce, and it made my eyes widen.

In one swift move, he flipped me onto my stomach. The surprise and impact knocked the breath out of me. His left hand slid under my body between my legs and cupped me. His right hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back. His hard cock pressed against my ass, a promise of what was to come. I wanted to beg him to fuck me, but all I could do was gasp. He didn’t need to be told, though, and he ground against me, using my hair as a handle.

The slight pain on my scalp was exquisite, sharp and sweet. A numbness spread through me, followed by relief.

The pain faded. My arousal did too, but that was okay. I was only vaguely aware of him continuing to work my body from behind.

I retreated into my mind. I’d stay that way all night.

Usually, that’s how things went. But not this time. Instead, I felt gentle caresses on my hair, my arms, my back. His cock was hot against my thigh, but he didn’t try to penetrate me, not in any of the places it would almost fit. His touch didn’t even feel sexual. He stroked me, and I arched into his touch.

“Why did you stop?” I wanted to sound assertive, but instead, I sounded weak. I despised sounding weak, especially about sex. He might be the one with the cock and the fists, but I was the one in control. I had to be.

“Allie, shhh. It’s okay.” He was trying to comfort me, and it was working. He turned me back over and began to kiss me, whispering words against my lips. “I’ll give it to you. Don’t worry. Relax.” More words than he’d spoken all night.

I was lost, my feelings all mixed up from my arousal and my high and subsequent low, at the mercy of this stranger.

What’s happening to me? I needed to get back to something familiar. I wanted him to fuck me, to be inside me, to ground me. I whimpered, hoping he’d understand.

“Shhh.” He arranged my arms and legs so that they were spread open on the bed and then kissed his way down my stomach. I shifted restlessly, knowing what he planned to do.

I didn’t want to say no, exactly, but I couldn’t look forward to it. That might have sounded strange to some people, that I would rather go down on a guy than have him go down on me.

Giving head was a no-brainer for me. I loved cocks, the way they tasted and felt in my mouth. And just the invasion of it, the submission. It was a pretty gross thing to do when I thought about it. Maybe that’s why women didn’t like blowjobs, but they didn’t understand about the power.

Colin, however, settled down between my open legs like he planned to stay. I felt too self-conscious to say anything at all, especially while he was focused on such an intimate place. I couldn’t help but tense up.

He kissed the inside of my thigh, his fingers tracing the path of his mouth. He switched to the other thigh, and only when my hips tilted up slightly did he move closer to my center. He licked through my folds, the soft contact surprising. His fingers played there too, but he didn’t thrust his fingers inside me or press my clit. He just licked and suckled and dipped his tongue inside to lap at the wetness pooling there.

It was almost like he wasn’t trying to get me to come. In my experience a guy would aim for the good parts and try to get me off as fast as possible, if he even bothered. But Colin licked me like he had all the time in the world. He wasn’t speeding up or pushing me on.

The room was silent except for the wet sounds from his mouth on me. The pressure of having to perform an orgasm eased with his leisurely pace. He didn’t seem to be expecting me to come now, so it was okay that I didn’t. I relaxed into the pleasure, luxuriating in this new sort of worship. God, was this why women loved getting oral sex?

Liquid released from inside me and slid out onto his tongue. He moaned. He actually moaned like…I don’t know, like it tasted good. As if the taste of me had turned him on. Damn, that turned me on right back.

For all that I liked giving head, I’d never thought a man could really want to do it to me. He wouldn’t like the taste or his tongue would get tired or he’d get bored, but Colin didn’t seem to be thinking any of those things. The slow, languid way he licked me again and again spoke of someone who was enjoying himself.

And then, without me having to fake it, my hips rocked in a thrusting motion. He hadn’t sped up, but the sensations of his mouth and his own appreciation of the act propelled me toward orgasm. I didn’t want it to end.

Colin read my body’s pleas and moved his mouth up to my clit. He sucked and slid his finger inside me, using the rhythm of my hips as a guide. So damned good. I couldn’t help the moans that came out of my mouth. I’d heard the phrase “I’d die if he stopped,” and I’d never understood it before now. I wouldn’t have died if he’d stopped, but I just might have cried.

I’d had sex lots of times, but I’d never had a lover so in tune with what my body wanted. It was a conversation, one my mind was barely aware of, but my body knew instinctively.

He played me like he already knew me. He didn’t tease me, not withholding my climax or any of that tantric shit, for which I might have had to kill him. But neither did he rush me toward climax. It was as if his entire purpose had narrowed to drawing out my moans.

My whole body went taut, muscles tight, hips flexed up to push against his mouth. My inner muscles clenched at his fingers, pulling them deeper. My breath stopped, and all I could do was make a choking sound. I came and came and came; all I could think was that I’d found something I’d lost.

Colin stroked me through my climax. I jerked violently when his tongue flicked over my clit one last time, and he withdrew his fingers. I expected him to put his cock inside me. Instead, he climbed up my body and lay beside me.

He wasn’t going to do it.

I felt vulnerable right then, and he knew it. He was going to try to be honorable or something. I didn’t want that. I couldn’t believe in it.

His cock looked dark and thick and wet at the tip. Something softened in a deep, cold place inside my chest that he was willing to postpone his pleasure for my ridiculous personal shit. That he would even know I had any personal shit when this was just a random hookup.

But no, I wanted to please him. He let me push him fully onto his back. I climbed over him and teased him into an open-mouthed kiss, ran my hands down his chest. I wanted to give him something, and this was all I had to give.

I’d assumed he wanted me to take the lead, given his tender touch, the way he’d worshipped me during oral sex, and how he’d yielded when I nudged him over. I’d never thought I’d enjoy being in control, but for him, I was willing to try. I knew I’d go down on him. I was eager to blow his mind, and his cock.

But as I began to kiss my way down, making my intentions clear, he stopped me, shaking his head slightly. I’d never had a man refuse a blowjob before. I’d never even heard of it happening, especially not during sex, and certainly not when it was freely offered. It threw me off, how he could do anything he wanted to me, but he chose to focus on my pleasure.

He repositioned me, so I was straddling his hips, my legs on either side of him, my hands resting on his chest. His arousal bobbed up toward my breasts.

Colin reached across the bed to his jeans and pulled a condom out of his wallet. He slipped it on and guided my hips onto his erection, then down, slowly. His face was tight with urgency, but he held my hips still. We were on his time.

Finally, he began to move with small thrusts. When I found the rhythm on my own, he released my hips and ran one hand along my ass. The other came up to my breasts, caressing them, teasing them.

I could feel the change in his touch. He wasn’t trying to get me off now. He was playing with me for his own pleasure. I leaned into his touch, and he drew my nipple into his mouth.

My arousal built, teasing me, and I tried to speed up.

His hand tightened on my ass. No, not yet.

I relaxed into the rocking motion as the pleasure between my legs grew. This was nothing like the sex I’d had before. It was more like a dance or even a meditation. I had no idea how much time passed, but when my legs started to feel sore and tingly, he rolled us over.

He plunged into me deeper, setting a fast, hard rhythm. I pulled my legs higher and lightly curled my hands around his neck, offering my body to him. I wasn’t an active participant anymore. I couldn’t help him or even react—I could only take it.

I came again, and this time it wasn’t a blinding explosion but a soft wave. Not a peak but a hum of pleasure, punctuated with each of his thrusts.

He buried his face into the side of my neck, groaning roughly as he came. His whole body shook with the sound, trembled with his release. His arms tightened around my body, and his hips pushed down into me, harder, deeper—yes.

He collapsed and rolled off me. He lay on his back, eyes closed, breathing hard. Colin looked beautiful to me, then. I might have thought he was handsome before, or maybe not, but it was an objective sort of observation. Looking at him now, knowing him—it was too much.

I stumbled off the bed and into the bathroom. I felt my own wetness sticky on the insides of my thighs, but I didn’t bother to wash. I sat down on the linoleum and leaned my back against the bathtub, trying to get it together.

I’d thought his sweetness was a sign of weakness, but that wasn’t true at all. He was completely in control, treating me the way he wanted, not the way I asked for it. And more than that, he seemed to know what I needed, giving it to me despite myself.

He walked into the bathroom, still naked, and sat next to me on the cold floor. I thought it was pretty silly and not totally clean. He put his arm around me and wiped away the tears I wanted to hide. I cried quietly for who knows how long while he held me.

I knew I’d feel stupid when I came back to reality, so I held it off as long as I could. Even after I stopped crying, I kept my eyes closed and buried myself into his side.

Then his stomach growled. We couldn’t sit here forever.

I peeked at him. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wouldn’t be good. Anger maybe, or frustration, disgust, pity, or any number of bad things might be there, before he got the hell out of Dodge.

Instead his lips quirked up into a wry smile. “I’d like to see you again, but this doesn’t bode well for my chances.”

I laughed, the sound loud in the small space, because it wasn’t at all what I’d expected. It could have just been my postorgasm, postbreakdown hormones talking, but if I were honest with myself, I was already falling for him.

That didn’t matter, because I had other considerations. One, mostly, but she was enough.

“I like you,” I hedged. The disappointment that flickered in his eyes said he read my tone correctly. “But I don’t think so.”

He considered me for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “That’s not what we’re here for, so I won’t push.”

He got up and offered me his hand. In the bedroom he handed me my clothes in between putting on his own. I averted my eyes, not because I didn’t want to see, but because there was a formality between us now that we’d had sex but weren’t going to see each other again.

“I’ll drop the key off at the front,” he said. “You can finish up in here.”

“Okay.”

He turned back at the door. “Listen, I own the Oasis Grill down on Kirby, okay? In case you change your mind. Just ask for me.”

He paused and then added, “Colin.”

I hadn’t forgotten.

“Maybe,” I said with a noncommittal smile.

“Bye, Allie. Take care.”

I peered through the blinds and watched his truck leave the parking lot. So, that was that. Why did I feel a lingering sense of loss? He was a stranger to me. He had to stay that way. That’s what this night was for—dirty, emotionless sex. Though this night had been distinctly less dirty and far less emotionless than I liked.