(Now) Kinsley: Rough

Well, Blogger/my computer ate half of what was supposed to be today's main storyline post.  After having a bit of a temper tantrum, I got it together and remembered that I have the next Kinsley post at least.  SO...you get another Kinsley post today.  I should have the main storyline post finished (again, *sob*) in time to post on Friday.  I hope you guys are enjoying Kinsley's story.  It's fun to write something so different than Liv and Brody!
__________________________________________

Tinder turned out to be just as easy as I thought it would be.  And maybe it was because I was choosy about who I swiped right on, but I hadn't had any horrible experiences yet.  And I was smart about it--or as smart as one who is meeting guys from Tinder can be--I met them in a public place, and I made sure I let someone know where I was going.

The lucky person happened to be Liv.  Liv and I had gotten dinner together the Wednesday after the fateful fight with Lauren, and she'd been much less of a bitch than Lauren had been.  She'd told me she was worried about me, but she did it in a way where I didn't feel like she was judging me.  She asked if there was anything she could do, and when I told her I needed a person to make sure the police got the right info if I disappeared, she didn't even bat an eye.

With as easy as it was, the payoff wasn't quite what I was hoping.  I had dates on Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday, and Monday.  I only got a weird vibe from one of the 4 guys I'd met, and I cut that date short with a bad excuse.  The other three were fine.  One wasn't at all my type, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.  We parted ways after two drinks with no hard feelings.  The other two I'd ended up going home with, but the sex just wasn't very good.  I don't know what I expected.

But backing up to Friday night, Cole called me around 11.  "I assume this is a booty call," I said, in lieu of a greeting.  I'd planned to take a night in to recover from my rather ridiculous week, but this was even better.

"It is," he confirmed.  "but I'll buy you a drink if I have to."

"How thoughtful of you," I retorted.  "Where are you?"

"I'm at home," he said.  "Are you sober?"

"Yes, asshole.  I can come to you, if you want.  You've got to give me a few minutes, and I'm not putting real pants on for you."

"What's the point?  I'm just going to take them off." Ah, the delightful conversation of an all-business booty call.

I brushed my teeth, swiped on a coat of waterproof mascara (what? Don't even fucking pretend like you don't do it too), and checked out my ass in the mirror.  Real pants be damned, I was pretty sure Cole was going to like my yoga pants better anyway.  I slid my feet into flip flops, grabbed my purse, and put the address he'd texted me into my phone's GPS.

I parked in the parking lot of his complex and pressed the button that corresponded with his apartment number.  Moments later, the door buzzed and I pulled it open.  I headed to the elevator and took it to the 11th floor.  I didn't have to look too hard to find his actual apartment, because as soon as I stepped off the elevator, a door opened.  I walked towards it and saw Cole leaning against the doorframe.  He had on a pair of athletic shorts and a black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame.

"Eager, huh?" I asked, smirking at him as I brushed past him to enter his apartment.  I looked around.  "This place needs an interior decorator."  His apartment was actually amazing, with high, exposed ceilings, gleaming hardwood, and huge windows with an amazing view of downtown and the foothills.  But his living room contained nothing beyond a couch, a chair, a coffee table, and a giant TV.  His dining area was empty.  There was nothing on the walls.  It was a stereotypical spartan bachelor pad.

"Give me a break," he retorted.  "I just moved."

I snorted.  "Three months ago."  I remembered him bragging about his new place shortly before he left for his new job.  "It is a really nice apartment, though."  I bent to set my purse on the floor by the door, since there was nowhere else to put it.

"I'm awfully glad you didn't put on real pants," Cole said.  I could practically feel his eyes on my ass as I straightened.  I knew he'd appreciate the pants.  "And thank you.  I'd like to make it a little cozier, but I've never been very good at that kind of stuff.  I prefer numbers."

"I like numbers too, but I manage just fine."  I leaned back against the door and regarded him carefully.

"Yeah, your place was decorated nicely.  Maybe you can help me."  He stepped closer and raised his eyebrows.

I reached out and grabbed the drawstring of his shorts, running it through my fingers and sliding them up it until they met the waistband.  Then I slid them back down to the end again.  "Did you call me so I could help you decorate?  Because if you did, I'm leaving."

"I didn't, but as long as you're here..."  He looked around and shrugged.

I yanked on the string of shorts, tugging him closer to me, then closed the gap between us.  "Stop talking and do something more useful with your mouth," I demanded.  He laughed and finally leaned down to kiss me.

The kiss started softly, his lips barely touching mine, his tongue lightly tracing them, and then suddenly he pressed me hard against the door and grabbed my ass.  I moaned against his lips, enjoying the intensity of his kiss.  I slipped out from between him and the door and walked towards the couch, lifting my shirt over my head and tossing it back at him as I went.  I heard his footsteps behind me just before he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me off the ground.  He threw me easily over his shoulder and carried me down the hallway.  "Fucking on the couch makes my back hurt," he grumbled.

"You could have just said you wanted to do it in your room instead.  I would have walked."

"Where's the fun in that?" he asked, dumping me gracelessly on his bed.  I yanked his shirt up and he lifted his arms and let me pull it off and toss it to the side before he climbed onto the bed with me, unhooking my bra as he kissed me again.  He pressed me back until I was laying down and immediately lowered his head to my breasts.  He tugged on one nipple with his teeth while he rolled the other between his fingers.  I gasped and arched my back, pressing myself harder against him.  When he released them, I rolled out from under him and shoved him sideways until he was sitting, then climbed into his lap.  I grabbed both of his hands and pinned them to his sides as I nipped at his neck.  I pressed my hips against his as I bit a little harder on his shoulder.

"Oh, is that what you want?" he growled.  He forced his wrists out of my hands and grabbed mine as he moved to the side and yanked on my hands.  In seconds he had me flat on my back with my arms stretched over my head.  He got both of my wrists easily into one of his hands and lowed his head to my neck.  He kept me on my toes, alternating gentle licks and sucking with sharp nips.

"I swear to god, if you leave one fucking visible mark on me, I will kill you," I warned him.

"Does that threat only apply to visible marks?" he paused to ask.  His tone was mocking, but his eyes were serious, and I clearly had his interest.

"Yes," I confirmed.

He put his lips against my chest, about two inches down from the center from the gap between my collar bones.  Keeping them against my skin, he asked, "Is this spot visible?" his lips tickled my skin and the vibration made me shiver.

"That's questionable.  Lower," I demanded.

Instead of going lower, he moved closer to my breast.  "How about here?"

"No," I replied.  "Picture whatever low cut shirt of mine turned you on the most, and stay away from anything you would have been able to see.  Anything else is fair game."

He lifted his head slightly and stared at my body in the dim light.  I loved the way he looked at me. He let go of my wrists, then used his fingers to trace a line down from either side of my shoulders, meeting between my breasts.  Then he raked his fingers down, across my breasts, down my stomach, to the waistband of my yoga pants.  "I almost hate to get rid of these, but they've got to go," he said.  He slid his fingers between the pants and my skin and yanked them down.  He left them around my ankles and continued his visual inspection.  Then he lowered his mouth to my hip bone and licked it.  He pressed his lips to it and sucked hard.  I expected his teeth next, but he licked again, then suddenly nipped sharply, causing me to arch my back and gasp a little.

He looked up at me, scanning my face quickly, then went back to licking, then sucking as he repositioned himself and dragged his fingertips up my leg.  They stopped and dug into my thigh slightly as he bit my hip bone again, but this time it was a gentle nip.  I wouldn't have guessed that my hip bone was the place to be, but he had me aching for him with very little effort on his part.  His fingers had finally made their way between my legs and he stroked me with his thumb as he turned his attention to my other hip bone.  I whimpered and pressed myself against his hand as he licked and sucked on my hip.  I was so close, and he'd barely even touched me.  Suddenly, he bit hard at the same time he roughly pushed two fingers inside of me, and I lost it.  I cried out and clamped my legs together against his hand.  I twisted a handful of the sheet in one hand, and grabbed Cole's hair with the other as my back arched up off the bed.

He gave me no time recover.  Somehow he kept one hand on me, which kept me writhing in pleasure, while he pushed off his shorts and rolled on a condom.  Then he flipped me onto my stomach, nudged my knees apart just slightly, and slammed into me hard.  I groaned and pressed my face against the mattress, unable to move under his weight.  His rough, hard thrusting rocked my pelvis back and forth against the sheet, which quickly started the build-up of a second orgasm.  Just before I went over the edge, he leaned forward and grabbed a handful of my hair, twisting it tightly in his fist.  That was all it took, and I yanked so hard on the sheet that I pulled the fitted sheet right off the corner of the bed with it as I came.

Every inch of my skin felt like it was humming with electricity, and I didn't think I could take much more. I was relieved when Cole finished moments later.  He laid on top of me, pressing me against the mattress for several seconds before he rolled off.  I didn't move, couldn't move, and I wasn't sure when I might be able to again.

"Did you get what you needed?" Cole asked, lightly smacking my ass as he stood up.  All I could do was groan.  He laughed and I heard a door shut, then water running.  That was--lack of feelings for Cole aside--easily the best sex I'd ever had.  Damien had never really been into anything rough; though he tried it a few times for me, he lacked the confidence with it that was necessary to truly pull it off.  It never bothered me, since I otherwise had absolutely no complaints about our sex life.  He definitely made up for that one little thing in many other ways, and it's not like I constantly wanted to be manhandled.  But this?  Right now?  Was exactly what I'd needed.

By the time he returned to the bed and laid back down, I was regaining some of my functioning, and was at least able to turn my head towards him.  He chuckled as he looked at me, and he had a very self-satisfied look on his face.  "Was the hair pulling too far?" he asked, smirking.  He knew the answer to that.  "Or should I tie you up next time?"

I rolled my eyes and carefully rolled onto my side.  "No, I'm not into that," I said.  His fingers brushed lightly over my hip bone and I looked down.  There was a faint purplish mark there that I could see even in the dim light of the room.  I sat up and inspected it.  It was clearly from the sucking, not the biting, and I was a little relieved, though I wasn't sure why.  I didn't want to get too carried away, I guess.  "You really are full of surprises," I muttered, laying back down.

"Told you," he replied.  He rolled onto his side and let his eyes slide over my body.  I made no move to cover up.  I liked being looked at.  I liked the way he looked at me, like he was hungry.  "You can spend the night if you want," he said.

"I don't do sleepovers," I replied.

He slid closer to me.  "How else do you have morning sex?" he asked, sliding his hand across my stomach.  His thumb strummed lightly over the mark on my hip again, then locked around my waist and pulled me closer.

"I don't," I replied.  "I have to leave a few things to the imagination, and the harsh morning light doesn't allow for that."

He lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the thin skin of my wrist, just below the base of my thumb.  I could almost feel my pulse throbbing against his lips in response.  He dragged his tongue along where my vein would have been visible if there was more light in the room, and I shivered.  I was still turned on enough that every touch sent waves of heat and pleasure through my body, and the gentleness of his lips on my wrist was a nice contrast to what had just occurred.  "Then I guess you'd better let me fuck you one more time before you go."  He didn't have to ask twice.


I woke up on Saturday morning in my own bed, sore and stiff.  I briefly entertained the idea of staying single forever and just having sex with Cole whenever I wanted for the rest of my life.  Despite our apparent ridiculous chemistry, the idea of dating him was completely laughable to me.  I had no desire to spend much time with him fully clothed.  Plus, with his usually-hidden gentleman side that I'd discovered, I had a feeling he'd have objections to biting his girlfriend or pulling her hair.  Now that I knew what he was into, I didn't want boring sex from him.  I could get that from any guy I picked up at the bar or swiped right for on Tinder.

I sat up and stretched, then walked to the bathroom and got in the shower.  Physically, I was kind of a mess.  I'd been spending a lot of time at the gym, and my muscles were sore from overwork.  I was also sore from last night.  Emotionally, I felt the best that I had in over two weeks.  That didn't mean I felt good, but every day got a little easier.  I was even able to finally spend my quiet night in at home that night, and I didn't obsessively re-clean my entire house the whole time to keep myself busy.

I had my third and fourth Tinder dates on Sunday and Monday (weird vibe guy and one of the boring sex guys, respectively) and then scheduled another date for Thursday.  I told myself I wouldn't call Cole until the weekend, but I gave in on Wednesday and sent him a text that said, "Up for some action on a school night?"  

"My place or yours?" he replied, 5 minutes later.  I chose mine, with a disclaimer that he couldn't spend the night.  He agreed and told me he'd be there in 20 minutes.  I don't know why I was still even on Tinder.  This was like sex delivery on demand, and I hardly had to do anything.  I certainly didn't have to go out for forced conversation over weak, over-priced drinks first, and he already knew I liked my hair pulled.  This was far more efficient.

We had an excellent evening, and he left me exhausted and satisfied in my bed around 11.  I slept like a rock, and I had a pretty good day at work on Thursday.  I ran home and took a quick shower and changed before my Tinder date.  I was becoming kind of a pro at this Tinder shit.

When I walked up to the bar where I was meeting my date, I recognized him right away from his picture.   "Eric?" I asked, stopping in front of him.  He was cute.  Cuter than in his picture, even though it was a fairly accurate picture.

"Yeah, hi.  Kinsley, right?" he replied.  He looked a little nervous, and it was cute.  I smiled and confirmed, and we headed inside.

We found a table and sat down, and someone quickly appeared to take our drink orders.  We sat and talked, and for once the conversation wasn't forced.  In fact, I discovered I actually enjoyed talking to him.  He was funny, and seemed smart too.  I mean, I guess he probably was, since he was a chemical engineer, and I assume they don't let idiots do that.

We stayed for a couple hours, and I probably would have stayed a couple more if it wasn't a work night.  He was good company, and he paid for my drinks and food, which is always a bonus.  I only had two drinks, since I had driven here, and I was surprised that I didn't feel the need to numb myself with alcohol.

When he asked if I wanted to go hang out at his place for awhile, I quickly agreed.  I briefly wondered how I'd explain away the large, dark combination hickey/bite mark on my shoulder blade from the night before, but figured that's what doing it in the dark is for.  I followed him to his house, which was in a quiet residential neighborhood not too far out of downtown.  I parked on the street in front of the house and met him at the front door.

He looked nervous, and for a second I wondered if this was his first Tinder date.  He unlocked the door and motioned for me to go inside.  He followed me in and within seconds, a petite, cute redhead in white shorts and a black crop top wandered down the stairs.  "Hi!" she said brightly, but she also seemed nervous.  Eric greeted her and they both looked at me.

"Um, hi," I said hesitantly.  I turned to Eric.  "Is this your...roommate?"

"No," he said, and now he looked really nervous.  "Leslie is my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?" I parroted.  "What the fuck is this?"

Leslie frowned and crossed her arms.  "Did you not tell her?" she asked.  "Did you seriously bring her here without telling her what we want?"

"What you want? ...Oh, holy shit!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing exactly what it was they wanted.  "Oh no.  No.  No way.  What the fuck?"

Leslie turned her frown on me.  "Don't judge us, you're the one meeting guys to fuck on Tinder."

"Oh, I'm not judging you," I informed her.  "But this," I motioned between the three of us, "is not something I'm into."  I turned back to Eric.  "And even if it was, this is not the way to go about having a goddamned threesome!  People need to know that shit ahead of time!"

"There really wasn't a good time to bring it up," he replied, shrugging innocently.

"You guys are fucking nuts," I said.  I turned and pulled open the front door and walked as fast as I could to my car.  I got in, started it, and drove around the corner.  After I put it back in park, I lost it.  I laughed so hard that anyone walking past would likely think I was the crazy one.  And maybe I was.  I doubled over, and sitting there with my forehead against the steering wheel, I almost didn't notice when my laughter turned to sobs.

I cried in my car for almost 15 minutes before I got it together enough to drive myself home.  Once I was home, I barely made it through the door before I started crying again.  I ended up sitting on the floor of my foyer, curled up against my front door, sobbing.  It was like all the crying I hadn't done in the past two weeks, while I pretended I was okay, was now happening.  I desperately wanted to be around another person, but I didn't know who to call.  For 5 minutes, I fought with myself about calling Damien, and at one point I had his contact information pulled up on my screen, with my finger hovering over his number, ready to call.  Then I dropped my phone and kicked it away, knowing that would do more harm than good.  Instead, I stayed curled against my front door, sniffling and desperately wishing for some non-sexual human contact for the first time in a really long time.

Finally, I dragged myself up to my bed and surrounded myself with pillows, pretending that it was a decent substitute for physical contact from someone that gave a shit about me.  It wasn't, but it was better than nothing as I quietly cried myself to sleep.