What Jack Wants

ROSIANNA

“Yes, baby. Oh...yes...!” I cried out louder as the guy thrust deeper into me. Fuck, it felt so good.

The guy spanked my big ass as he impaled me harder with his big cock. I would have told him not to spank me, but I was so deep into the fucking, I ignored him.

I was feeding my addiction. I didn’t really have a choice here.

“Aww fuck,” he groaned, rubbing my clit before his sneaky fingers went much lower, as he plunged into me from behind, over and over.

I could feel my body tighten. My release washed over me as I cried out. I saw stars as it catapulted my body into a whirlwind of sweet pleasure. His groan reached my ear, and his body shook over mine as he found his own release.

I got up after and walked naked to the bathroom without a backward glance. I took my time washing up, not giving a care in the world if my visitor left. I wish he would. It’d make things a lot easier.

An hour later, I came out and was relieved when I saw an empty room. 

I didn’t even know his name.

I didn’t care.

I never did.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Rosianna Bells, and I’m twenty-four years old. I own a small but successful textile company, so you can consider me a rich woman. I am addicted to sex. That is the hidden me.

To the outside world, I was a rich, businesslike woman that barely smiles at the opposite sex. People respected me out there in society—which I deserved, by the way. I was what you could consider cool, reserved, and collected. But in the inner world, I was just a sex addict who couldn’t function without regular sex; I’d been that way since I was eighteen. I slept with different guys every few days.

Nameless. Faceless. All I wanted was their dicks. The orgasm they could give me.

I know you’re judging me but save your breath. I don’t care what you, or anybody else for that matter, thinks. 

No one has a right to judge me. No one.

Dressed in a well-tailored business suit, I walked into my two-story building of a textile factory the next day and came to a stop at the commotion in the office.

On an average day, everyone organizes themselves and does their jobs perfectly. “Guess this is not a normal day,” I muttered. They were all in a group, murmuring whatever gossip they had going for them.