The Hustle Chapter One (Tug’s POV)

The Hustle

Copyright © 2014 by KJ Bell.

All rights reserved.

(unedited and subject to change)

 

Chapter One

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Part one—The End

Tug

Gone are the quiet moments of reason where I try to understand life goes on. There’s a monster living inside of me, an endless voice with devious intentions. The conqueror of women, seeking vengeance for all that I’ve lost. At times I want to evict the monster, but without him, I have to feel the pain that scheming bitch left behind.

What do you do when you no longer have a heart? When you exist without empathy? I go through women like water, looking for one to silence the growing insanity of my mind.

Tonight’s choice, Tabitha, started out as a hopeful. Only when it comes time to perform, she slobbers, more than she sucks. Spit trickles down my shaft, soaking my balls, as her blonde head bobs in my lap. If she keeps this up, my dick’s gonna shrivel up like skin does when you’re in the pool too long.

My fingers wind around her chemically-lightened hair. The strands scratch like straw as I wrap them around my hand. I ram her sloppy mouth down on my cock. She attempts to pull back, but I thrust my hips upward, trying to push deeper. Maybe if I can feel the back of her throat it will set me off, allow me the satisfaction of coming in her sexy, red mouth.

Her grip tightens around my dick, working the base as her lips move up and down the top. Frustration builds as her mouth tickles without creating the much desired suction I need to come. I’m more maddened than satisfied and her lack of effort pisses me off.

“Suck it,” I growl, holding her head down. “Pretend I’m a lollipop, baby.”

I keep her head pinned as she gags, still striving to get off. Attempting to feel something other than irritation.

Her head turns, releasing my dick from her mouth as she continues gagging.

“What the fuck did you stop for?”

“I was choking.” She coughs. Her cheeks flush as she wipes a trail of rubbery spit dangling from her chin.

“That’s what you’re supposed to do,” I say, rubbing my thumb over her pouty lips.

“I don’t like it.”

“I can tell.” I smirk and cup the back of her head in my hand. “Maybe you need more practice.”

I yank on her head, trying to lower her to my dick again, but she resists. “I can’t. Please … I’ll do anything else.”

She’s eager to please me, certain if she does that I’ll want her to stick around past tonight. I won’t. The polite thing to do would be to tell her and send her on her way. But I’m not polite or kind enough to consider her feelings. I only care about my needs. I’m demanding and growing impatient and frustrated the longer she denies me.

My dick needs release and if she’s not going to provide it with her mouth, as I would prefer, she’s going to be fucked without mercy.

“Stand up and bend over the bed with your legs apart.” She smiles before obeying my command like a good little servant.

I massage her ass as I position myself behind her. She peers over her shoulder, sending a surge of annoyance through me. The look on her face won’t extend me the unashamed strength I need to steal more than her sweet offering. It’s the eyes. They show me expectations I’ll never provide. They ask me for things I’m incapable of feeling for any woman, let alone a woman with so little self-respect. “Don’t look at me. Put your head down.”

When she does, I slide two fingers into her drenched pussy to test her. She arches, pushing back on my hand as she pleads for me to help her. I withdraw my fingers. Her whining doesn’t affect me as I have no intention of pleasing a woman that can’t give a decent blowjob. I’m going to fuck her for me. To fulfill my needs or justify my anger, whichever comes first. Satisfying me remains the only reason she’s here. Nothing’s changed. If she can’t do that, I have no use for her.

Although my dick throbs, seeking immediate relief, I take the time to roll on a rubber. I made the mistake of forgoing protection one time in my life. No glove in the name of love. Such bullshit. That one poor decision that lead to another and another. Until the final fucking mistake that cost me Maria.

I close my eyes as I slam into the tight cunt of this woman I don’t have an ounce of regard for. She’s merely a vessel to ease my suffering.

The monster grins. He can’t be tamed, any more than the man can be saved. My eyes close as anger and resentment, love and hate battle to control me. I remember the photo of Maria, smiling across the table at Eduardo; the happy couple who played me for a fool. Who stole the final uncorrupted pieces of me.

The heavy judgments of my involvement want to strangle me, squeeze every last breath of air from my lungs as punishment. But I’m not ready to be held accountable. The only way to end the suffocating lies in pretending this woman is Maria. I do. I fuck my love and remorse into her; only when this chick moans, my fantasy dissolves. I lost Maria. She’s never coming back and I can’t find one goddamn woman out of the millions on the planet to replace her. No one will ever make me feel alive the way she did.

The monster grins again as I succumb to his control.

“Shut the fuck up,” I yell as I still. I’m so fucking close. Her cries of pleasure threaten to steal my moment. I won’t let that happen. “Don’t you come! Don’t you fucking come!”

She groans as her body relaxes. “Please,” she pleads, wiggling her hips.

“No!” She couldn’t please me earlier. I didn’t enjoy myself. Why the fuck should she?

I move again, reaching a steady pace. Thankfully the blonde remains quiet. However, her rapid breathing cues me that she’s revving up again. I thrust hard, picturing Maria’s perfect ass below my palm as I smack the blonde’s until my hand stings. When my balls tingle, I pull out, and then rip off the condom.

“Sit up and turn around,” I order.

Her large, green eyes full of reservation glance up at me as she quietly complies. I hold the back of her head with one hand. With the other, I jerk off in front of her face.

Pressure builds in my balls, shooting warmth through my shaft, which spreads down my thighs with a slow prickly sensation. I stroke faster, craving the moment I know will bring me to the brink of stupidity. My spine stiffens on a near painful release. I blow my load all over the blonde’s swollen lips as all of my hate disappears behind a veil of numb satisfaction. For a few blissful seconds, I forget how much it hurts to be me.

My dick softens in my hand as the reason I hurt crashes into me. A fucking woman broke my heart. A ruthless, cunning woman, no different than the blonde in front of me wiping the seeds of my labor off her mouth. She wants to use me, too, only I beat her to it and now she expects me to feel remorse.

Fuck that! Regret is reserved for the weak man I used to be.

“Get dressed and get the fuck out,” I say, feeling the ugliness seeping out of my cold, dead heart as I head to the shower to wash the stench of woman from my skin. To scrub away the humility of who I’ve become—to hide from the monster.

I grip the counter, starring in the mirror at a complete stranger.

Tug Hunter is fucking dead.

I hate the man left behind.

He’s empty.

 

4 thoughts on “The Hustle Chapter One (Tug’s POV)

  1. Pingback: Pre-Release Tour: The Hustle by KJ Bell - Sexy Bibliophiles

  2. Pingback: RELEASE BLITZ for The Hustle by KJ Bell | I Want My HEA

  3. Pingback: BLOG TOUR: THE HUSTLE BY KJ BELL * Book Starlets

  4. Pingback: Pre-Release Tour: THE HUSTLE by KJ Bell - Life Books & Loves

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