Running From The Past, Falling Into Her Hands

James - 2

--- WARNING --- Sexual Content, and graphic language. Read at your own choice, and at the right age. --- Disclaimer --- All characters are fiction, and belong to their creators - Johanna Mason was invented by and is still owned by Suzanne Collins and the corporations involved in her publication. This story was made for the purpose of reading, not to gain any type of money of profit. All rights reserved and given to the owners of all existing characters involved.

- - - - 1 week later - - - -

Johanna

It was late, and her eyes were heavy. The only reason she was still awake, was James. A smoking hot nymphomaniac who she had met a few times before. If she was lonely and needed to shove her thoughts out of her head, she turned to James. He was egocentric, and always wanted top, but she didn't care, he was a miracle in bed. She had been thinking too much this evening, she barely managed to quell a major panic attack, and nothing calmed her down and took her thoughts away like sex. So she called James the Nympho.

Her eyes were literally trying to shut themselves, which made sense, she'd slept roughly 3 hours in the past four days. Her insomnia helped that along, but her body needed sleep, now. She sat up, wiping her mouth. James sat up. "What the hell'd you stop for?" He asked. He didn't like interrupted sex. "Oh suck it up." She snapped. "I'm going. I need to sleep." James frowned, as if the mere thought that someone might want to sleep instead of completing hour two of sex with him, was confusing.

Johanna got up and retrieved her clothes. "Baby... come back, finish what you've started. Please?"

Johanna whips around. "I am not a baby. And you can go fuck yourself."

"Fine," he grumbles, starting to do just that. Involuntarily, Johanna growls, James looks up, winks, and then focuses again, he moans quietly. Johanna bites her lip, then shakes her head furiously. "Stop."

"Stop what, baby?" James asks, his voice dripping with seductiveness. Johanna watches him for a bit, making up her mind.

"Fine, you bastard." She growls, and heads for the bed. "I knew you were hard core, good girl." She grabs his penis a little harder than normal, and he quiets down. "Go ahead, he whispers," gesturing to his dick with his eyes.

She bends down and obliges. James starts off egging her on, calling her his bitch, baby, and more names, but soon falls back onto the bed, twitching with pleasure. "Ah, here it comes," he says, about to burst. Abruptly, she stops. Gets up, goes to the sink, grabs a glass of water, and dumps it on his dick. "What the fuck!" He shouts, yowling. His erection goes down with his cockiness.

"FYI, I'm not your bitch, and I'm not a baby. Remember that I won the Hunger Games once, survived them twice, have been tortured, and have killed more people than you've fucked. Remember that the next time you mess with me." Then she stalks out, stark naked, leaving James shivering, and cowering, on the bed.