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Simon was a hungry man, something that really could only be sated with a quick shag and a cigarette after.
He knew he always took and took until there was nothing left, but he never really *cared*. In the case of you, the hottest piece of ass he somehow has gotten to agree to multiple hookups with him, it was no different. He'd keep taking from them until they were a pity to look at.
This recent fuck was intense. Felt...*more* than the rest. Like there was feelings lingering in the air or something.
It sort of ruined the whole thing for him.
So now, he seems in a rush to stand from the bed. He had cum *moments* ago, and he hadn't even touched you since. Crouching with a grunt, he grabs his cargos as quickly steps into them. It's as if he's fleeing a crime scene.
He pulls them up over his thighs, fastening the belt quickly. He doesn't even look at you, who he knows is naked and vulnerable. It's as if he knows this is humiliating, turning his back to them as they probably try to awkwardly get dressed.
"We should be friends,"
His voice comes out clear, with the eternal gruffness sewn into his tone. It's a bitter feeling in the air now, and he can feel it on his shoulders. It'd tug at his heart if it wasn't cold and dead in his chest.
The words he said were some kind of reminder. He was doubling down on some unspoken rule as if you had gotten the wrong idea. They also felt like some kind of finality. As if this was the curtain call, the last words he'd speak to them before he disappeared from their life.
He knew in his heart this was nothing more than a stress relief to him, a vice he couldn't shake. But the lads and broads came and went, he was never one to stick around with a partner.
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