Falling for Rex by Shayne Ford

19

LUNA REA

I swimdeep close to the pool bottom before I surface at the other end, far from Kian’s smoldering eyes and from the people having a good time.

Far from Frankie and Carlos and everybody else. I’m trying to clear my mind, staying away from all this.

I keep swimming for the next twenty minutes, a lot of it happening under the water and away from the other people, when I finally surface on one of the small islands, grab a towel, dry myself, and sprawl in a lounge chair.

The group of people has moved inside. I can see them on the first floor, drinking and dancing.

I spot Frankie and Carlos, but I can’t see Rex.

My phone is with my things on the other side of the pool, where the rest of my cocktail is. I’m in no rush to get there if nothing else, because I don’t want to run into Kian again.

Slowly, I run the towel over my body, looking around the pool. I spot a bit of movement across the stretch of water where Kian’s woman used to lounge.

The wind blows, rippling the water and making the torches flicker.

She’s still there, standing in front of a lounge chair.

I pull upright and take a better look at her, my curiosity ignited by the sensual moves of her hands over her chest.

She strokes her naked breasts, her eyes tilted down, her lips muttering something before she kneels and leans forward, her hands reaching a man’s thighs.

Smoothly, I abandon my towel and slither into the pool. I swim under the water to a different island and pull up at the edge, making sure I remain invisible while getting a better view of the man and the woman.

My eyes drift from her ankles to her thighs, to her rear and tiny bikini, to her arms and back, and then her lips perfectly closed around a man’s cock.

He’s as big as I felt him minutes ago.

Sprawled in his lounge chair, his arms folded behind his head, his chest sculpted, his abs cut, his shorts pulled down to his thighs, his sex in plain view, Kian watches the woman’s performance with half-lidded eyes.

No expression on his face.

No pleasure, surprise, enthusiasm.

He receives what’s his, and she knows how to give it to him. I’ve watched people doing it online. It’s not new to me.

What’s new is seeing a live performance.

What’s new is seeing him receiving, not seizing as he did it with me this evening.

She takes a lot of him in, and there’s still a lot of him left, and for a few good moments, I can't tear my eyes away from his glistening dick as it slides into her mouth.

Her hair keeps falling over her face, blocking my view, when he gathers it in his fist to see her mouth sliding onto his cock.

Unhindered, she leans on him and starts bobbing her head, massaging his balls and moaning.

I have no idea if her sounds are part of the performance or are genuine. Everything is too perfect and emotionless––even if it’s an act, she’s a damn good actress.

Now I know how these women manage to be with these men. There’s no heart or emotion in her touch, but it’s hard to tell at a glance.

It’s hard to tell when her mouth swallows his hard flesh, and her tongue moves along his length, and her cheeks go hollow as she sucks on his crown.

She’s a beautiful expression, a pictogram of erotic love. But she’s not the real thing.

He isn’t either.

He can’t be.

He’s too absorbed, too caught in his dark self. Too rapacious and voracious. His conquering instinct is inbred in his power and the dark, murky nooks of his soul.

He has a dark fire licking his heart every time he sets his eyes on someone. It’s not validation that he seeks or pleasure–– I don’t think so.

It’s his passion for destruction. For having and abandoning. For feeding on tears and ashes and crumbs after making someone crumble.

For tarnishing the things that are different than him.

He’s blind to anything other than what fuels his darkness. His moral compass is broken. He has one, oddly enough.

That’s why he has patience with his brother.

He lets him have me first...

Everything’s twisted in his head.

Everything exists for him to claim and ruin and discard. I’m no different.

He doesn’t want me.

He wants to take a jab at his brother. He lets him have his moment before stealing me from him.

He wants to destroy my memory in his brother’s head, to make me insignificant to him.

Rex...

He’s afraid Rex might fall in love.

It just happens that it’s me–– the woman–– but then again, it has nothing to do with me. Any other woman would do.

He thinks he has something for me. He has nothing for me. He knows nothing.

I was right.

I know much more about him. I know how much he hates Rex has something that he doesn’t.

Not only that, but he is the way he is. And he hates the way he is.

As much as he thinks highly of himself–– it’s only natural–- he resents himself too.

In a chase with himself, he yearns to prove to anyone who cares to watch that he is the winner after all.

That power trumps love.

That darkness kills the light... All the time.

That life is out there to be taken or consumed, the way he consumes it now.

Like a king, accepting the woman’s gift.

She sucks and licks his cock before pushing to her feet and taking her panties down.

As if she follows a ceremonial she’s done so many times before, she straddles the man's crotch and opens her center before sliding her center onto him, but only after she puts a condom on his shaft.

She must be wet as hell, or she wouldn’t be sliding up and down with so much easiness, moving with so much passion, and rolling her hips to grind on his hard length with so much earnestness.

His thick cock points up, filling up the woman before sliding in and out of her as she moves her body.

She lifts her arms so her boobs bounce, putting out a show for him.

She’s pleasant to watch, and he surely stays hard for her, and I get tingly as I watch, but my feelings are mixed.

I feel resentment and maybe a bit of jealousy, and I hate him for making a sacrifice out of me in his sick war with his brother.

My eyes go to the house again when I notice Rex on the second floor. He has his headsets on, talking to someone.

He must’ve done it for some time.

It’s just that he just walked into that room, and I haven’t seen him until now.

He seems preoccupied and doesn’t glance out the window. Even if he would, I am out of his line of sight. And so is his brother and the woman he carelessly fucks.

It’s odd how we are the only people still lingering outside, and I don’t plan to watch him come or hiding from them, for that matter, so without sparing another second, I swim to where I left my things and fruity drink.

I emerge from the water not far from Kian and his woman and keep my gaze away from them as I pat myself dry with a towel and collect my things.

A moment later, I toss my backpack’s strap on my shoulder and spin around.

The woman is back at sucking his cock–– the condom is off.

I can’t tell whether he’s blasted his load, and she sucks him clean, or she’s doing a second round on him in the idea that he’ll come into her mouth.

What I know is that he looks at me with lascivious eyes, a cocky smirk, and dark amusement on his face.

Without flinching, I hold his eyes, putting him on notice that I know his game. That he’s not going to use me. And I’m not going to buy his bullshit or retreat, cowering in a corner just because he has the upper hand, or so he thinks.

The woman’s face is tilted down as she fills her mouth with him so she can’t see me, yet he swivels his head as I quietly walk toward the entrance, taunting me with his eyes.

Depraved is what comes to mind, and I’m no prude either. It’s not only that he taunts me as he gets sucked off by someone else. It’s that his eyes carry a message too.

I know what he thinks...

He expects me to be at his feet one day and suck him the way she does, perhaps with even more gusto because, by that time, I’d have my heart broken, and I’d be needing him.

He already thinks that.

He already believes that he knows how to fuck me. That I am too inexperienced to know what I want. He couldn’t be more wrong.

I can push back anytime I want. And no, I won’t tell Rex.

This is my war, although I didn’t start it.

Kian did.

I stop in a dimmer corner, a few feet away from the entrance, and right under his nose, I turn around, bring my hand to my back, and slowly untie my strings.

The elastic snaps as I let go of it, the triangles sliding off my chest.

His gaze dips as I sweep them off and run my hands over my chest. It’s hard to tell, but I think his jaw clenches as I take my bra off and shake my head, letting my hair fall down my back.

It’s damp and cold against my skin, making my nipples pucker.

I stroke my chest again with nonchalance, the same way he has adjusted his package in front of me. He lifts his gaze, his hand sliding to the woman's head, guiding her to swallow more.

Pushing back my smile, I touch my panties, handling the strings instead of pushing them down.

The strings fall open under my touch, my bikini hitting the ground before I notice the jolt in his body.

I’m baiting him. He knows it.

He can’t fuck me right now as much as he wants to, and not because his cock is in someone else’s mouth but because it would be too much of a show.

And if I know anything about self-aggrandizing people is that they need to get what’s theirs in a ceremony, not some random, trite event.

It has to be a ritual.

That doesn’t mean that his muscles don’t flex and his eyes don’t throw flames at me.

He thought I was scared.

I was, and still am.

I’m intimidated by him, his weakness for me becoming my power, my ammunition. He flexes his leg to let the woman lick his balls while I turn my back to him and bend at the waist, giving him a full view of my naked butt and sex before sliding my cotton summer dress straight on my naked body.

Dressed, I turned around and notice the most flattering, unexpected thing.

The woman’s mouth is filled with his release, his quiet grunt giving me the strangest validation.

Smiling, I wave at him and lithely slip inside, turning my back to him for the second time this evening.