“You’re saying you don’t like my gentle stroke?”
“I’m saying your gentle stroke,” Caitlyn shook her head, “is giving you problems.”
She walked around the front of the bed and pulled her underwear off the floor.
“I can fuck you slow at night too, you know?”
Caitlyn stood up straight, underwear in her fists, and looked at Michael. He lay comfortably with his left arm up under his neck while he touched his dick with his right hand.
“What do you want Michael?”
“To fuck you how I want to fuck you.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes.
“Christ, Caitlyn,” he whined. “You don’t have to be so impenetrable all the time. I’ve already been inside of you. I was just there a minute ago.”
“It makes me uncomfortable when you pretend to make love to me.”
“Why?” Michael sat up and moved his body closer to the foot of the bed. “Afraid you might like it? Afraid you might accidentally feel something?”
“Knock it off, Michael.”
Caitlyn looked away from him, inspected the room for more of her things.
Michael hopped from the bed in seconds and stood close to her. He touched her left shoulder with his right hand, took hold of her right wrist with his left hand, and pressed his chest against her body.
“What?” he whispered harshly.
Caitlyn swallowed, bowing her head as she looked to the floor.
“Seriously,” she said quietly. “I thought you wanted no strings. I thought you paid girls to keep it unemotional.”
“Fucking with your head,” Michael breathed against her temple, “is not emotional. It’s optional. Girls have the option of taking my money, and I pay them for the option of messing with their heads.”
Caitlyn lifted her head and shifted her weight. She looked Michael in his eyes.
“And last night?”
“Is over,” he replied. “It’s gone. It’s today now.”