There was a bang on the door. “Come out of there! I need to pee!” someone yelled.
“Go away!” Lucas barked, his fingers never stopping working me over.
“We can’t stay in here all night,” I gasped, my head dropping back as he ran his tongue along the column of my throat.
There was more banging on the door and I tensed.
Lucas pushed another finger inside me and kissed me hard, his teeth biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. “We’re not going anywhere. Not yet,” he ordered. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing labored. I ran my hand over the front of his jeans and he groaned, closing his eyes.
The person on the other side wouldn’t stop banging and it was really messing with the move. I tried to get off the sink, wiggling against Lucas’ hand. “I really think—”
“Fuck off!” he shouted, kicked the door with his boot.
Whoever needed to use the toilet went away pretty quickly after that.
He turned back to me, a sultry smile on his pretty, pretty lips. “Now where were we?”
I pushed his hand against me, both of us groaning loudly. I was acting like such a slut. And I didn’t really care.
“So hot. So fucking hot,” he grunted as he pumped his fingers in and out. Over and over again. I spread my legs as wide as I was able to in my skirt, not caring about the water in the sink soaking through the fabric of my skirt. He pressed his mouth to my neck, sucking and nibbling.
What was I doing?
I wasn’t the kind of girl to let a stranger finger fuck her in a public restroom. Especially one that was kind of a dick. This was completely out of character.
Yet I couldn’t stop myself from enjoying the moment.
He pressed his thumb against my clit and my vision went black. I felt woozy as the combination of the booze and the first orgasm I had experienced in years hit me like a freight train.
“Oh my god,” I called out.
“I’m not done yet—” Lucas began to say and then he stilled. His face going white.
I pulled back slightly, looking at him with concern. He didn’t look good. He was sweating profusely. “Are you okay?”
“Just give me—” He lunged towards the stall, slamming the door open with enough force to shake it on its hinges. He dropped to his knees and retched into the toilet.
I sat in the sink, my body still thrumming with the aftermath of the orgasm and watched as the guy who had given it to me heaved over and over again.
Damn, that did a number on my self-esteem.
Lucas shuddered and collapsed against the toilet bowl. I hopped down and straightened my skirt. I looked in the mirror and cringed. My mascara had smeared and my lips were red and raw. And was that a hickey on the side of my neck? Just great.
I got a paper towel and wet it, trying to clean myself as much as possible. Lucas continued to groan from his spot on the floor, his head hanging low in the toilet bowl.
Do I leave him?
It was tempting. The acrid smell of vomit was making my stomach roll. I turned to leave.
Damn it, I couldn’t leave the poor guy.
“Uh can I do anything for you?” I asked, feeling incredibly awkward. Only five minutes before the footballer had his fingers inside me and now he was clutching the toilet, retching up the contents of his stomach.
This night had taken a surreal turn, that’s for sure.
“Just go,” Lucas muttered, not bothering to lift his head.
Clearly, he wasn’t a very pleasant sick person. In spite of his less than agreeable demeanor, I carefully lifted his head from the toilet and leaned him back against the wall. I grabbed a wet paper towel and cleaned his face off. He had gotten vomit down the front of his shirt.
