Apart.
My scream is drowned out by the music as I come in a fieryburst. He holds me up with one arm banded around my waist, his fingers keeping rhythm as we face the dance crowd, finishing off the rawest, most exhibitionist sexual encounter I’ve ever had.
Dice adeptly switches out the record and leans in, lips at my ear. “I love feeling an orgasm move through your body. The sounds you make. How hard you come.”
“You make it so good. Always. Fuck me here.” My body’s still humming like I’m plugged into the speakers.
“Can’t,” he groans, hard against my ass. “Not the way I need to.”
He grabs his phone and lowers the buzz. Then announcing a short break over the mic, he puts in a USB, switching to a prerecorded mix.
“Come on.” He removes the headphones and ushers me out of the booth in a hurry. I remember my purse at the last second.
He pulls me down the staff hallway, going deeper into the back where the stockroom is. Dice punches in the code, shoves the door open, and tugs me inside.
The moment it clicks shut, he spins me against the metal. Shoving himself between my legs, his mouth crashes down on mine, greedy and impatient. No soft kisses. No teasing. Just utter possession. My purse hits the floor. He presses the length of his body tight against me. I can feel the lust coursing through him, the burn of his blood.
I grasp the back of his neck, flooded with excitement as his mouth works me over. Kissing, tonguing, licking, biting, dragging the damp heat down to nip the pulsing vein at the side of my neck.
“You’ve been fucking with my head all night,” he grumbles, his hands cupping my tender breasts, squeezing them through my top. “Grinding on that stool while I pulsed your ass, coming all over my fingers in my damn booth.” He bites my lip again.
“You gonna punish me, Dice?” I bite him back.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans, shoving up my top, my bra, and feasts on my nipples.
Everything inside me clenches. I lower my hands to his chest,pushing them inside the opening of his shirt, sliding my palms over his sweat-misted skin, the rigidity of his muscles, the thump of his heart. “Do it!” I hiss before pushing him away to grab my purse, fumbling inside for the condom.
He takes it from me, dropping my purse back to the floor. “Turn around.” His command is guttural.
Aching for him, I plant my palms against the door. He lifts my skirt, baring my ass, then spanks it four times. Our groans echo off the walls, hot and needy.
“You look like sin.” He palms the cheeks, cooling the burn.
And I twerk for him, letting my booty roll and bounce.
“Damn, Lot.” He smacks it again.
“Tear up this pussy, Dice. Make me scream.”
His forefinger runs over my wet folds and taps the toy in my ass, spiking my arousal to the point of insanity. I hear the foil tear. His clenched-teeth hiss as he rolls on the condom. I’m leaking buckets when he grabs hold of my hips, bracing me for impact, and plunges.
I was ready for it. Warned, eager, prepared. But the intensity, the sheer power of his lust, knocks the breath out of me. I arch my back, nails clawing the door.
“You’re so hard and huge.”
“Take it,” he says, his voice all gravel heat. “That’s what you do to me.”
The thrusts are deep and deliberate, pulling all the way out before slamming back in. Every stroke drags against my swollen, sensitive walls. The rhythm is relentless. Punishing. Perfect.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans. “So tight around me. You were made for this.”
My ass claps with each thrust, the slap of skin on skin sounds decadent and filthy in the room surrounded by cases of liquor.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me upright so he can kiss my neck. “You love when I fuck you.”
“Yes,” I moan, wild with it. “I love fucking you too.”
“Show me.” He stills and bends me back over. “I want to watch you sliding over my cock.”
