Afterwards, and this is a surprise, she doesn't try to pull the cuddling thing.  Almost all of them, once the sex is done, they get this idea that I just turned into some kind of fucking teddy bear.  That's always a shitty situation, since it would probably work better to let them think they've got something more than sex going on for awhile; they get these wide-eyed ideas about love in their heads and it completely spoils a good fuck unless you play into them.  The trouble's just that I can't stand to stay still for one second after sex is over. 

But this time when I jump out of bed to grab some more cigarettes, Susie doesn't get that wounded look Georgina and MG and the rest of them always get.  She just stares, thinking whatever Susie thoughts run through her head when things get intense.  I'm almost tempted to ask her what she's thinking about.

But how stupid would that be?  I flick the lighter to the tip of the cig, take a long drag.  I glance over at Susanna, a little sharper this time.  All of a sudden I want to hit her, get that thoughtful look off her face.  What the fuck is she thinking about me?  What the fuck is she thinking?

I drop a few lit ashes on her arm, on purpose, and she flinches.  It's enough.

"Sooooooo…"  Deliberately casual.  "So why don't you call that loser boyfriend tomorrow morning and tell him you won't need him around here in the future?"

"Don't do that."  Her voice is surprisingly strong.  Weird.  Usually they get totally tame after sex.

"What?"

"Burn me.  What the fuck was that for?"

I blow smoke out my nose.  "Accident, Suzy-Q.  You going to call Frat Boy tomorrow and dump him?"

"He writes poetry. He's not a frat boy."

"What the fuck ever."  Jesus.  "What's gotten into you tonight?  Oh, that's right –" I slide a hand up in her, way up, enough to make her flinch and gasp simultaneously.  "I did."

Her eyes are wide again – wanting-more again.  I like it when she looks wanting-more.  The trick is to get them wanting just a bit more than you're going to give.  "Why am I doing this?" she mumbles, half to herself.

Christ.  I start rotating my hand inside her, finding the spot that makes her gasp, knuckling it hard.  Watching her eyes start to lose focus even as I answer her.  "It's for fun, baby.  Just some fun."

"You're crazy."  Talking to herself again.

I give an especially hard thrust.  "So're you, babe."  Her breathing's short again now.  In another few seconds, before she comes, I'm going to shove her head between my legs, and if she wants to get off she can fucking well do it herself while she eats me.

"You… don't care about me.  You're using me."

"And what's wrong with that?"  I whip my hand out, watching her eyes fly wide open in disbelief.  "Everyone fucking uses everybody in this world, sweetpea, so get used to it.  You think your poet boyfriend wasn't using you?  You think you weren't using him?  There's nothing else out there, babe, so wise up."  I give her shoulders a quick push and there she is, head between my legs.  She stares up at me for one second.  Our eyes meet for a long moment.

Then she bends her head and goes to it.  And that flash of understanding that passes between us in that moment is enough to get me to put my knee between her legs.  If she really wants to, she can use that to get off on.

Which she does.