It’s exhilarating, the feel of his hands and mouth, taking and taking.
We nearly stumble as he pulls me through the crowd and end up down a darkened hallway that leads to the bathroom. Thesign above the door says so, at least. He lets go of my waist only to rap on the door twice, and when no one responds, he pulls me inside.
The doorframe rattles as it slams shut, and he quickly flips the lock.
Jesus, my heart feels like it’s going to come out of my chest, both in excitement and nerves.
He stalks toward me, his mouth crashing down on mine, picking right back up where we left off. This kiss feels different though.
More desperate, more frantic.
Like we can’t move fast enough, like our minds are a step ahead of where our bodies are.
He lifts me off my feet, and my legs wrap around him on instinct, my nails digging into the tattooed sleeves of his arms. My back hits the wall, and the artwork shakes as he presses me against it.
Only then does he stop kissing me.
He tears his lips away to trail them along my jaw, his tongue darting out to trail a fiery path down my neck, along my collarbone, to the shallow space between my breasts that’s barely visible from my shirt.
Every spot that his lips touch, it’s as if he’s leaving behind an electric current, leaving my skin buzzing.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m alsototallydoing this.
I’m not giving myself a chance to overthink anything or talk myself out of it.
He slips his hand between us and deftly undoes the button of my shorts in the span of a breath. And then his eyes are locked on mine as he slips his fingers beneath the band of my panties.
My breath catches, rattling somewhere inside of me the moment his fingers brush along my clit.
Oh my God.
“So fucking wet. Jesus,” he murmurs, and hearing him speak again, that voice, it has my pulse racing.
His fingers circle my clit roughly, with the perfect amount of pressure that makes my toes nearly curl.
The sound of my head hitting the wall behind me echoes around us. “Please.”
I don’t even know what I’m begging for, but… something. Everything.
More than just the feel of his fingers.
He mutters a curse, and then his hand disappears. My eyes drop down to where he’s working the button of his jeans open and dragging the zipper down. I’m only on my feet long enough for my shorts to come off.
His gaze travels to the pink satin panties covering my pussy, and his eyes darken impossibly, heat flaring within them. With one move, he lifts me back off my feet and presses me back against the wall.
One large hand curls around my nape, and the other curves at my hip. His erection throbs between us, and I bite back a moan.
When his hips flex and it presses into my aching core, that moan escapes, despite how hard I’m trying to hold it back.
God, I want this.
I’m shaking with adrenaline, and the nerves in my stomach are fluttering around like a thousand butterflies thrashing in a cage, but I want this.
So bad.
My arm slips around his neck, and I hold on as he tugs his briefs down and covers his length with a condom that I didn’t even notice he’d gotten.
Thank God, he’s thinking when I’m clearly not.
