We drove to Tysons Galleria. We walked into Nordstrom and he had his hand on the small of my back, which was a gesture I would’ve flinched at a month ago, but now it made me feel anchored instead of caged. Progress.
We browsed for about ten minutes. He pointed out a few dresses that were too conservative, I pointed out a few that were too revealing for a grandmother’s birthday party, and we went back and forth until he suddenly steered me away from the racks and toward the back of the store.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to show you something.”
“Show me what? The fitting rooms are over there.”
He didn’t answer. Just guided me down a corridor past the alterations desk and through a door marked “Private Restroom.” He locked it behind us.
It was a single room with a marble countertop, full-length mirror, soft lighting, and enough space to move around in. Nicer than most people’s bathrooms at home.
“Quest, what are you…”
He was already on his knees.
“We are in a Nordstrom.”
“I’m aware.” His hands were on my waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of my jeans. “I’ve been thinking about my Peach since yesterday and I can’t walk around this mall for two hours pretending I’m focused on dresses when all I can think about is how you taste.”
“You are insane.”
“Maybe.” He unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down to my thighs along with my underwear in one motion. “But you’re not stopping me.”
He was right. I wasn’t stopping him. I was gripping the edge of the marble countertop and watching him in the mirror and my heart was hammering and we were in a public restroom in Nordstrom at Tysons Galleria and I should’ve been mortified but instead I was spreading my legs wider to give him better access because this man had rewired something in my brain.
He pressed his mouth against me and I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.
“Uh uh,” he said against my pussy, his breath warm. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”
“We’re in public, Quest.”
“Then be quiet-loud. That’s a thing, right?” He licked me slow and deliberate and my knees buckled slightly. He caught my hip with one hand to steady me. “There she is. My pretty little peach. Been waiting for this all morning.”
He ate me like he had all the time in the world and we weren’t in a bathroom that someone could knock on at any second. Slow, savoring, talking between every stroke.
“You know what I love about you?” Lick. “You act so tough.” Lick. “So hard.” Lick. “But right here, like this, you’re so soft for me. This pussy is so soft for me, Peach.”
My hand went to his head, and as I gripped my back arched against the mirror. I could see us in the reflection, him onhis knees in his designer clothes on a marble floor, me half-undressed with my head thrown back and my mouth open. It was obscene and beautiful and I was going to hell.
He picked up the pace, his tongue relentless on my clit, and I could feel the orgasm building fast because the adrenaline of being somewhere we shouldn’t be was amplifying everything by a factor of ten.
“Quest, I’m gonna…”
“Give it to me. Quick though, Peach. We got shopping to do.” He sucked my clit into his mouth and I came so hard my legs gave out completely. He caught me with both hands on my hips and held me up while I shook, my hand over my mouth, muffling the sounds that were trying to escape.
He kissed my inner thigh, pulled my jeans back up, buttoned them for me, and stood.
“Go ahead out before me,” he said. “I’ll find you in the shoe section.”
“You’re so nasty.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed my forehead. “Go. And try to walk normal.”
I unlocked the door, checked the hallway to make sure nobody was waiting, and slipped out on legs that were still trembling. I was smoothing my hair and trying to look like a woman who had not just been devoured in a Nordstrom bathroom when I turned the corner and walked directly into someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I?—”
