“They’re not noise-complaint neighbors, are they?” I ask, right into her ear. I’m pressing her to the wall with my other hand, her rib cage heaving under me. I’m so hard I’m dizzy. “They gonna call it in if they hear me tell you to work your pretty little clit against my hand?”
She does, her hips rolling. Her eyelids flicker. “You can’t even see it,” she says, voice low. “How do you know it’s pretty?”
“It’s a good guess. The rest of you is.” I move my other hand, skating it up over the curve of her breast, softly circling the pad of my thumb over her puffy pink nipple, warmer to the touch than the rest of her. “Think you can come like this?” I ask.
She huffs a noise that might be a laugh, but her head’s back against the wall and her eyes are closed, her hands fisted in my shirt as she works her hips against my hand, her clit sliding between my fingers while she makes tiny, aborted noises. Theheat of her bare skin soaks through my shirt, my lips still on her ear.
“Well?”
“I think so.” She’s moving faster now, harder, and I’m fucking laser-focused on my hand between her legs, putting the exact right amount of pressure on her clit, pushing back just enough that she can feel it. It’s small and careful and oddly precise for how messy sex is, and I focus on it to shut out the way my skin feels overheated and stretched too tight, every seam in this shirt suddenly scratchy and uncomfortable, or the way my dick is trapped between my pants and my hip and I’m afraid that tiny pressure might be enough.
I’m holding it together. I am. I am. Even if this feels like some sort of wild, wonderful dream and I’ll wake up any second.
Suddenly Madeline grabs my wrist and arches her back, and before I can say anything or even react, her whole body shudders and she’s coming. It’s not loud, but it’s obvious, panting and groaning and shaking until she finally goes still against the wall, eyes closed, head back.
I stare. I think I’m slack-jawed, holding my breath, praying that I don’t come myself. My brain tries to catch up to what’s happening because these things might happen to other people, but they don’t happen tome.
Holy shit. Holyshit.
“Good?” I ask, like I need confirmation. I’ve still got her clit between two fingers, and I give it a soft squeeze, just because I can. She gives a whole-body twitch, but she doesn’t pull my hand away.
Madeline nods, then clears her throat and swallows. “Yeah,” she finally says. “Good.”
Then she finally moves my hand and drags me in for a hard kiss.
CHAPTER TWO
MADELINE
I geton my knees before I can think about it too much. I don’t think about whether this makes me look too eager to a man I just met and will probably never see again. I don’t worry about who he’s going to tell. I just want his cock in my mouth.
He gasps when I drag my lips along his still-clothed shaft, and somewhere above me I register the sound of his hand smacking the wall.
Then I’ve got his pants undone and his boxer briefs down and it’s there, fat and already leaking, so I lick it.
Javier swears. Another few drops bead on my tongue, so I close my eyes and put my hands on his thighs and take him in.
Javier groans. It’s loud as hell, and it bounces off the wall above me, this desperate, feral sound. I’m slow and careful, letting him rub against my tongue and the roof of my mouth, and when he’s in as far as I can get him, his hips twitch and he gasps.
“Fuck,” he bites out, so I keep going. I like giving blow jobs fine, but I fuckinglovehearing someone lose their shit because their dick is in my mouth. JesusChrist, is Javier losing his shit.
“God, Madeline,” he’s saying. “Fuck, that’s good. Yourmouth. Look at you.” He’s already panting, voice ragged, and I grab his thighs a little harder, try to take him a little deeper. Hegroans when I do, the muscles under my hands trembling with the effort of holding back. My skirt’s still around my waist and I’m wet again—or still wet, who even knows—and so turned on it hurts.
He’s still swearing, babbling nonsense about how fucking perfect my mouth is, when I feel his hand on my face. I tighten my hands on his thighs and pull back a little, bracing myself. He runs a thumb along my cheekbone, surprisingly gentle.
When I open my eyes and look up at him, he’s staring down in wide-eyed wonder.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, and I let my eyes flutter closed, then keep going. “So beautiful.Fuck. Your mouth’s incredible, just fucking perfect.” His thumb runs over my cheekbone again, soft and oddly tender, and it’s hard not to lean into it.
“Do you like this too?” he murmurs, salt leaking onto my tongue. “I think”—he cuts himself off with a gasp and a groan—“I think you do. I think you’re getting wet again. Listening to me. Like this.”
I look up at him again, only the head of his cock in my mouth, and I let it slide out from between my lips slowly, pushing my tongue into the slit as I do. I know my eyes are watering and my eyeliner is probably a mess, but no one has ever looked at me the way Javier’s looking at me right now, a combination of adoration and hunger that makes me feel like a fancy dessert, begging to be eaten.
I rock back and stand, and before I’m fully on my feet Javier is kissing me, tongue deep in my mouth, his hand still holding my face. His spit-slick cock rubs against my thigh, and fuck, I bet right now I could turn around and brace myself against the wall and?—
“Bedroom?” I say, blinking water from my eyes a few times. “Please?”
Javier’s breath catches, his pupils are blown wide, his black hair wild around his face. He’s looking at me like he wants to take a bite. I’d let him.
