Brat

Miguel, I don't know... honestly, being at a country estate bores me. What could I possibly do at a place like that? You know that's not my thing, and bringing someone along, even less. You know very well I don't go out with anyone, because taking someone would mean giving them hopes of a commitment, and you know perfectly well that commitment isn't for me. That's just not who I am. I only like to have a good time, and that's it... you know me.

No, Miguel, that's not my thing. I don't know what he's trying to do with this, but he knows I don't like that. I'm not into country estates - what would I even do there? The perfect plan for me is locking myself in a hotel room with a girl, or even several, and spending the day f***ing without commitments, that's it.

I stay quiet for a while, thinking, but no - that's definitely not for me. I'm different, and no matter how much I think about it, that's just not who I am, and so I answer:

-No, no way, that's not my thing, you know me... I tell him.

And he keeps giving me arguments, trying to make me change my mind, but that doesn't work with me.

-And what's the fear of her thinking something? If it happens, fine, and if it doesn't, then it doesn't. Besides, it's about time you settled down. You can't just keep living that way forever... he tells me.

No, never. That's not going to happen. I'm not the type for commitments. My friend is very wrong about me, because that will never happen - not in this life, nor in the next. And I tell him so.



-Ohhh my friend, that's not going to happen. You know how I am - I'm not interested in anything other than f***ing and moving on... I tell him.

And honestly, I don't know what he's trying to do, because I'm never going to change.

-Well, think about it. Maybe later you'll feel like it, and you'll bring someone along... or just go by yourself, he says.

Pfff, yeah right. Maybe in a hundred or two hundred years, or when it starts raining upwards, like his mother says. Hahaha! Sometimes it feels like he doesn't even know me.

-No, better yet, why don't you postpone your trip and we go party in Vegas with a couple of girls I know - they're really hot... I tell him.

Because what he really needs is a couple of gorgeous women to take him, please him, and make him forget about those absurd ideas of marriage.

-Hahaha, Brat, you'll never change, will you... he says.

Why should I change? This is the life I love. Who in their right mind would get bored of having fun with whoever they want, whenever they want? Anyone who does must be insane. The one who needs to change his way of thinking is him, not me. He's the one in a relationship, not me. -Nooo, you know I won't. And it pisses me off that you try to change me... you know I like my life the way it is, doing whatever I feel like with whoever I want. I don't see the problem. You used to be just like me, so why now are you filling my head with cheap words? ... I tell him, irritated.

Because now he thinks he's perfect, just because he's in love. But before, we lived a life without limits.

-Yes, my friend, I used to. But not anymore. I've changed. I'm sorry to say this, but I'm deeply, truly in love, and I believe this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. These aren't cheap words - it's reality. We're no longer kids. It's time to grow up and settle down... he says.

Settle down? What's that supposed to mean? My friend says things I don't understand. Of course, his mother is Latina, so she has a bunch of sayings I don't get. And about us "not being kids anymore," I don't know what he's talking about. It's not like we're seventy. Besides, I'll never get married. So I answer him:

-What the hell are you talking about? I'm only twenty-eight years old. I'm not old for you to talk that way. I'm in the prime of my life - and so are you... I reply, using one of his mother's sayings.

He laughs. I don't. I don't find it funny. In fact, it disgusts me. I'm not old. He's crazy if he thinks I'm going to listen to that nonsense.

-My friend, but you've been living that same life for so long, don't you get bored? ... he asks.

Bored? I laugh. He's insane. Why would I get bored? Who gets tired of having fun with whoever they want? I ask him.

-No. And don't you get bored of always sleeping with the same woman? ... I ask.

Because honestly, I couldn't imagine myself always with the same one. What a drag.

-No. When you're in love like I am, that doesn't happen. And someday the right woman will come along and change your mind. Don't you think it's time to settle down? ... he says.

I don't really know what that word means, but I guess he's talking about changing. Even so, that's not going to happen. I'm not going to fall in love. Ha! I laugh. Never. I'm not the marrying type. Same old story, like my father used to say. Boring. Can't they talk about something else? So I answer, fed up with the subject:

-Never. I'm not crazy like you... I tell him.

And he laughs at what I say, but I don't find it funny at all.

-Yes, I'm crazy, I won't deny it. But crazy about her. And I want you to meet her. I've been with her for three years now, and you still refuse to meet her... he says.

Again with the same thing. What a drag. Why should I? I'm not interested. In fact, it makes me angry that he lets himself get distracted by that nonsense.

That woman has put ideas in his head, when we should be out enjoying ourselves with fun, uncomplicated girls. What a drag. Why did she have to show up with her absurd ideas of love and all that nonsense? I frown in annoyance.

-My friend, why would I want to meet her? You're the one who should care, not me. I'll meet her in due time - like on the day you get married, for example... if you ever do... I tell him.

Though to be honest, I hope he never gets married. Why bother? If it's about sex, they already do it. Why complicate life with such nonsense? To me, it makes no sense.

-I will. That I can assure you. Well, then I won't insist anymore... for now, he says.

Ohhh, good. I laugh to myself. Finally.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments - it motivates me to keep writing for you, with much affection, Francia. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter of Brat.

Don't miss the next chapters - they're going to be on fire!

Brat

So I decide to talk to him about the outing I've been wanting for days.

-We're going to a bar tonight... I ask him.

He stays silent for a while, thinking, to the point where I almost believe he'll say no, but finally he answers:

-Fine, but I'll be late, like I told you. I have work to catch up on... he says.

The word catch up makes me frown, but that's on him. I'm no slave like he is.

-Fine then, see you tonight at my apartment. I'll call some girls.

He gets worked up, which makes me laugh.

-Hey, Brat, nooo! We're going as friends, I'm bringing Jon, okay?... he tells me.

I laugh at his response because I already knew he'd say that. I only wanted to tease him - Miguel is so predictable.

-Ahhh, you've become boring... fine, just us then. See you tonight.

-Okay... he answers.

-So it's settled then... I tell him.

And I hang up. I check my watch - it's past six already. I leave the office, tired of so much work. As I head out through reception, the receptionist stares at me flirtatiously. I laugh; the idea crosses my mind, but I dismiss it immediately. I wouldn't be able to get rid of her afterward.

I know it's not easy for anyone to ignore someone like me. Not to sound arrogant, but let's face it - I'm a man who draws women's attention at first glance. Handsome, athletic, 1.90 tall, and wealthy - every woman desires me.

I can say I have the luxury of choosing any woman I want. Women have never been scarce for me. I can take anyone I want to bed - I don't even have to go looking, because they always come to me. Still, I'm selective. I like women without drama, women I can easily brush off, because honestly, I have too many options to complicate my life.

I don't sleep with just anyone, because I hate complaints afterward and all the drama - that's not for me. I'd rather pay girls to enjoy myself, and when it's over, they leave. Though sometimes there are bold ones who want to have fun with me, and I'll admit it happens often.

I live this way by choice, not because I can't hold a relationship - but because I don't want to. In bed, I perform well; I'm insatiable, and I like rough encounters. Nature blessed me generously, and my size is something women would kill for. Of course, they always want to repeat, but for me that's not an option. I prefer it this way - one night only, nothing more.

My life is reduced to work and pleasure, nothing else, because nothing else matters to me. Even though my father nags me day and night about giving him an heir, I couldn't care less.

I'd have to be insane to share my life with someone. I'm happy this way - no explanations, just having fun with whoever I want and letting go when I please. That's how I want to live my life.

My phone rings. I look at the screen, surprised - it's a number I don't know. Who the hell is calling me, and why? Suspiciously, I answer, thinking it could be a new investor no one has told me about.

-Hello... I answer.

I wait for the voice on the other end.

-Hi, darling, how are you?... a woman answers.

Darling? I frown. I don't have a "darling." Who the hell is this? Why is she calling me?

-Sorry, do I know you?... I ask.

I'm stunned. Maybe it's a mistake, because as far as I know, no woman has access to my number, and least of all someone calling me with such words that mean nothing to me.

-Oh, don't tell me you forgot about me... she says, reproachful.

What the hell? She's crazy. I don't know her. Who does she think she is, calling me "love"? And who gave her my number? Hopefully not Iván, because if he did, we'll have a problem. I frown even more.

-No, I don't know you, and in fact, I never give my number to strangers... I tell her.

She laughs on the other end and replies:

-Well, darling, actually I got it from your friend Iván... she says.

What?! I knew it. That idiot is going to hear it from me. I made it crystal clear he was never to give my number to anyone. Now I'm furious - so angry I can barely speak. And she keeps talking.

-Don't you remember? We went out two weeks ago with your friend Iván... she says.

Ah, the threesome. Why would I remember her? She meant nothing to me. It was just fun, nothing more. I don't know why some people can't grasp that.

-Ohhh, right, the threesome... I say.

What could she possibly want? This is exactly why I never give out my number. I don't need anyone bothering me, wasting my time with nonsense. Iván's going to hear it from me.

-Yesss... she answers, thrilled.

Too bad she is, because I'm not interested. I didn't even remember her.

-What was your name again?... I ask.

She answers, excited:

-Carla.

-Look, Carla, we had a good time the other night, but the truth is, I don't do repeats. I think Iván already told you. And before you feel offended or anything, I believe we made it clear that night. So let's skip the unpleasant sermons and leave it at that, okay?... I tell her.

-Darling, I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want to repeat what we did that night, nothing more, no commitments... she says.

Darling again. The word disgusts me. I'm not her darling, nor do I want to be. Who does she think she is?

Still... I think about it. Truth is, I am in the mood, and that night wasn't bad. Besides, I don't have time today to look for someone new.

-No commitments, really?... I ask.

Because I don't want things getting messy later, with scandals and drama I can't stand.

-Of course... she answers.

Well, if that's the case, fine. I just hope I don't regret it.

-Alright then, if so, I'll see you today at six-thirty at my apartment... I tell her.

-Okay... she replies.

-I'll send you the address. And let me be clear - I can't stay long, I have plans with some friends... I tell her.

I like to make things clear from the start, so no one can pretend to be offended when I send them off. I may be a son of a bitch, but I don't deceive anyone. Whoever comes to me knows exactly what to expect.

-With Iván?... she asks.

This is already a bad idea. I hate being questioned. I don't give explanations even to my father, much less to a stranger.

-Nooo. And it's none of your business, understood?... I snap.

That irritates me. She quickly tries to calm me down.

-Okay, don't get mad, darling. Send me the address... she says.

-Fine, I'll send it... I reply curtly.

Don't get mad? Who does she think she is? I hang up, frowning.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments - it motivates me to keep writing for you, with much affection, Francia. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter of Brat.

Don't miss the upcoming chapters - they're going to be on fire!

Brat

The only reason I accepted her invitation was simply because I truly felt the urge to be with someone, and I didn't have the time to look for anyone else. Carla, well... to be honest, she wasn't bad that night. So, without overthinking it, I sent her my location, and within seconds she replied.

-"Alright, I'm on my way," she said.

I took a deep breath, because something inside me told me this wouldn't end well.

-"Ok, I'll be waiting for you," I replied.

Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it, and there she was, wearing a red lace dress, almost transparent. She looked incredibly sexy, walking toward me with her hips swaying. Without hesitation, she pulled off my tie, then my shirt, and that drove me crazy. She smiled mischievously, touched me daringly between my legs, and whispered in my ear with a voice dripping with sensuality:

-"Hello, darling... did you miss me?"



What a ridiculous thing... what does she even think? Why would I miss her if it was only one time? It wasn't bad, but definitely not enough to miss her. I honestly believe this woman has serious mental issues, and I haven't even been kind to her. I don't know why she says such nonsense.

-"Don't play with me, Carla. I don't miss anyone," I told her.

She laughed, moving closer in a playful attempt to ease my anger.

-"Wow, you're such a bitter man," she said.

And yes, I am, at least in that sense. Because I like being direct-I don't deceive anyone, and I don't beat around the bush. I'd rather people say that about me than think I'm a liar. Seconds later, she unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor, standing completely naked except for a tiny thong. Her small breasts were now exposed.

Immediately, I went for them and sucked them. They weren't as big as I usually like, but not bad either. I squeezed them roughly, pulled her by the hair, turned her around and bent her over the chair. In a rush, I unbuttoned my pants, pulled them down along with my boxers, grabbed a condom from the side table in the living room, put it on quickly, and entered her without the slightest bit of delicacy or warning. She squirmed slightly, uncomfortable with the size of my manhood, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to satisfy my urges-I wasn't interested in what she felt.

I went in once, twice, three times, and many more, in a rough, aggressive rhythm. Her walls tightened around me, giving me immense pleasure as I thrust into her hard. She moaned desperately, but I was only chasing my own satisfaction, pounding into her over and over again, sweating profusely as I fucked her with all the force my nature demanded. Finally, after countless thrusts, I climaxed-and I think she did too. After a moment to catch my breath, I grabbed her hand again, led her back to the chair, stripped off the rest of my clothes until I was completely naked, sat down, grabbed another condom, slid it on, and pulled her onto my lap.

She started riding me fast, bouncing up and down on my cock, which drove me insane. She rolled her hips forward and backward in quick motions, and it felt incredible. My pulse raced at her movements-she rode me like a true professional, and I grabbed her hips, moving them the way I wanted, in search of my own pleasure.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I stopped her, turned her around, and laid her on her back. I asked if she wanted lube, but she shook her head, refusing. Fine- not my problem, I asked. I knew exactly what I wanted: to take her ass. She knew what she came here for.

I positioned myself at her back entrance and shoved myself inside without the slightest trace of delicacy. She complained a little, but I didn't care. I admit it-I'm a selfish bastard. I only care about my own pleasure, but that's who I am. I went in and out roughly, grabbed her neck, squeezed, and pounded her harder and harder, savagely.

I fucked her over and over, her moans getting louder with each thrust. After several brutal strokes, I finally climaxed again. Not bad at all. This is the life I love-I take what I want, when I want, no questions asked.

We finished, our breathing a complete mess. After a few seconds, she caught her breath and leaned in, trying to kiss me. I didn't let her. A moment later, I said:

-"Carla, I'm sorry, but you need to go. I have an appointment with someone... want me to call you a cab?"

She stood up, started gathering her clothes from around the apartment.

"No, don't worry, I brought my car," she said.

She kept dressing while I told her:

"Alright then, I'll let you be. I'm going to take a shower," I said, and headed to the bathroom.

When I was done, I put on black jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket. I sprayed some cologne, looked at myself in the full-length mirror, making sure I was presentable. The doorbell rang.

I looked around-Carla was gone. Perfect. I was glad she understood how things worked with me. I opened the door, expecting Miguel. But it wasn't him. The man standing at my door was none other than my father. What a drag. My mood instantly soured.

"What are you doing here?" I said, annoyed that he showed up unannounced.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here? I'm your father-I can come whenever I want," he said.

As if being my father gave him the right to do that.

"Well, too bad, because I'm going out. I don't have the time or the patience to listen to your lectures," I snapped.

It pissed me off-why does he still think I'm a little boy he can scold?

"Brat, I don't lecture you for fun. I just want you to reason, to realize you need to leave behind this life of alcohol and women. I want you to take control of your life, grow up, and settle down," he said.

There he goes again with the same old speech. I'm sick of it. Why can't they just accept that this is who I am, that I'm happy this way, and I don't care about anything else? Why waste cheap words I'll never take into account? I answered harshly:

"I'm already established in the company you forced me to take over. What else do you want from me?" I shouted.

Anger boiling inside me because I hate being manipulated.

"Don't speak to me like that," he said. "You forget who you're talking to."

He was mad at my tone. And I wondered-how could I ever forget who he is? The man who made my entire life, and my mother's, a bitter existence. How could I ever forget that?

"Just tell me why you came and leave," I demanded, already fed up, wanting him out of my sight.

"What do you mean why? I came to see you. Or did you forget you have a father?" he said.

Now he remembers he has a son? When I was a child, he never even cared.

"Oh please... what's the point of this now? I see you every day at the company," I said.

His accusations made no sense.

"But lately I haven't gone, because I've been sick. And you haven't come to see me," he said.

As if I should care.

"When you're on your deathbed, I'll come," I said.

I knew it sounded cruel, but he couldn't expect things he hadn't earned.

"Son, don't I matter to you? I'm your father," he said.

I already know he's my father. Unfortunately, I can't forget it.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments to motivate me to keep writing for you. With much love, Francia...."Just like I didn't matter to you when I was a child, waiting for you all alone... and just like my mother doesn't matter to you now that she's sick," I barked. "If you don't remember, let me remind you."

It infuriated me that he pretended to be a good father when he never was.