When I get to everyone, I’m quickly absorbed into the fray. Hands clap my back and arms circle me. Anna yells advice, and Mal has quiet, encouraging words for each of us.
The night shifts gears and gradually dissolves into hilarity. People laugh and talk loudly. People who were strangers a few months ago start feeling familiar.
As the others grow louder, Connor comes closer and talks to me quietly. He looks at me for longer than he needs to and a husk spins in his throat when we make eye contact. The blaze takes a while to catch on fire. Lapping at my clothes first, at soft parts of me next, gradually making everything in its path hard and hot.
When the hand clapping my back is his, it feels different. Hotter and deeper. Sexier and slower.
By the end of the night, when he reaches for my hand under the table, he’s reaching into an inferno. A wildfire. A statue of me, that’s been set alight.
He traces my fingers one by one, fingertips drawing invisible lines on my skin. Lines that spell words likeConnorandConnorandConnor.
The people around us are so loud and happy, but they hardly exist. They’re here, but not here. They’re here, but they’re on a different wavelength.
Under the table, Connor turns my hand, palm up, and runs a finger along my lifeline. It starts out as a tingling tease, but he increases the pressure as he moves. There’s a pressure point in my palm I wasn’t aware of before. I’ve gone lame on one side of my body, so I’m hyperaware of it now. He squeezes the flesh between my thumb and forefinger hard. Almost hard enough to hurt, but not quite.
Just hard enough to loosen my tongue.
“I’m craving,” I whisper into his ear. “Con, I’mcravingyou. Badly.”
His eyes track lazily down my face, stuttering at my lips, and then he flicks them around the table to check if anyone’s looking at us. They aren’t. They’re in their own worlds, the same way we’re in ours.
He jerks his head at the sign for the restroom and slides out of the booth without looking back to see if I’m following.
I give him a four-second lead and give chase as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself.
It’s bright in the men’s restroom. Halogen light glints off a large mirror and white tile, blinding me. Connor stands in the far cubicle, one leg bent at the knee, and a hand hooked over the top of the door, holding it open for me.
My dick lurches, and I all but teleport to him, sliding my arms around his waist as he locks the door. I push him against the wall and open his mouth with my tongue. My kiss is hard and demanding. Harder and more demanding than any kiss I’ve given him in the past.
He likes it. I can tell by the way his hips buck against mine.
My hands are all over his body, his hips, his back, his ass.
His ass. His ass. His ass.
I have a cheek in each hand, and I can’t get enough. A soft caress isn’t enough. Nor is a hard one. I unbuckle his belt roughly, a cheek still in one hand, and shove my free hand in the back of his pants. His waistband is loose enough to allow it, but not comfortably so. It’s a struggle, but one I’ll happily navigate. A fight I’d rather die for than lose.
His silky skin on my palm makes me groan.
Meaty flesh in my grasp makes blood rush to my cock.
My fingers find their way to his crack, unable to get as deep as they need to because of his waistband. My mind is slow, but I know what I want, and there’s no way I’m going in dry, so I pull out and put two fingers in my mouth. Licking and spitting on them to get them as wet as possible before diving into Connor’s pants again. He smirks and unbuttons and unzips his jeans in a hurry as I do it. My hand slides down the back of his pants again, getting where I want is easier now.
I take hold of his jaw, keeping him still, making him look into my eyes as I hook a finger inside him. He’s tight and hot, a ring of pressure so perfect that a pained whimper seeps out of me. It makes him whimper too. He bites his bottom lip to suffocate the sound, but keeps his eyes on me.
“I crave you,” I say again, and holy shit, do I mean it.
“I crave you too.” His voice is breathy and soft, helpless, the same way I’m helpless. As always, his vulnerability strips away my defenses.
“I don’t know if it’s normal to crave someone the way I crave you, Con.”
“I don’t know either. But I can’t help it.” He opens his mouth and offers me his tongue. I take it into my mouth and suck gently three or four times before releasing it. “And I don’t want it to stop.”
There’s a loud, sudden thud. A creak of a door and heavy footsteps padding a few yards from us. Connor’s eyes fly open and his ass clenches around my finger. I don’t move or withdraw it. I keep it right where it is, but I raise my other hand and place a single finger over his lips.
He nods and breathes through his nose to try and slow his breathing. We stand like that, frozen. Hearts slamming, as a zipper that isn’t Connor’s or mine opens.
Whoever is in the room with us goes about his business without a care in the world, humming something tuneless as he takes a piss. He has no idea that we’re here. That Connor’s jeans are undone. Or that my finger is inside him.
