I came like a gunshot, my orgasm shooting out of me like his words had pulled a trigger somewhere inside of me. A strangled shout came shortly after, and he dragged the hand from my throat to cover my mouth and keep me quiet. I bucked against him, cock pulsing in our still tangled fingers, and as I emptied all over our knuckles, my eyes rolled back and I saw stars. Riggs kept his hand over mine, stroking until it hurt, and even then he didn’t stop. His hand fell away from my mouth, and I sucked in a gasping breath, feeling alive for the first time in months.
Riggs dropped his head against the bathroom door, our bodies so closely aligned and pressed together the hard length of his own erection was undeniable between us. Without giving it much thought, I tried to reach for him, only to have him use his hip to knock my hand out of the way.
“I want you to feel good too,” I protested.
“I feel perfect,” he assured me, slowing and loosening his hold on my hand until he let his arm fall away entirely. Mine was quick to follow, and together we struggled there to catch our breaths. Someone came into the bathroom, pissed, washed their hands and left. We stayed as we were, and after minutes had passed, Riggs gently peeled me away from the door and checked to make sure my legs were working again.
I watched as he raised his hand to his mouth and sucked the cum off his fingers. The pink curl of his tongue around his knuckles sent another spiral of pleasure through me, and I leaned against the door to enjoy the show. Once his fingers were free of my spend, he carefully adjusted my finally flaccid cock back into my pants and zipped me back up. Next, he reachedfor my hand, which he raised to his mouth and gave the same treatment as he’d offered his own.
His mouth was an oven, hot and dangerous, but he held my stare as he swirled his tongue around each of my fingers and sucked them clean. Once satisfied, he lowered my hand back down to my side and adjusted his hoodie so it rested a little further back on his head than before. The shift in shadows let me see the dark swatches of his dilated pupils, the red flush of his cheeks.
Riggs shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and stepped back closer to the toilet like he was giving me room. His expression was transparent as glass, cautious, but far from scared.
“Are you good?”
“Better than,” I slurred, a soft smile settling on my face.
He matched my ease, a quiet laugh falling out of his mouth.
“What now?” I asked
“I have to be honest,” he admitted, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even remember the last time I did something like this, so I’m not sure.”
“Hookups not your thing?”
“Bathroom hookups,” he corrected.
“Are you a bedroom kind of guy?” I asked, eyes going wide at my own unexpected boldness.
Riggs narrowed his eyes at me like he was seeing me for the first time, and I realized maybe he was. At least, this version of me, because I felt wholly new and different from the man who’d gone into the bathroom in the first place.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I followed up. “That was too much.”
“You just came all over my hand, Smith. I think the question is fair.” He scratched an itch in his eyebrow. “What I mean is…I don’t like to rush. I prefer to take my time, and we don’t have much of that here.”
As if on cue, the bathroom door opened again and we went still. It was a group of men who laughed in front of the urinals while they pissed, made crass jokes at each other while they washed their hands, and then they were gone. It was still Riggs and me in the stall, one orgasm and a hundred unspoken wants between us.
“Come home with me,” he said, almost a question, but not quite.
My consent died in my throat, but I swallowed past it and gave him a nod.
“I was…was supposed to meet a friend here. I should. Need to find her I think. Let her know plans have changed.”
Asha was going to kill me, but there was no way I wasn’t going home with Riggs. At my mumbled explanation, the corner of his mouth quirked up, and he gestured weakly toward the lock at my back.
“Ready when you are, Smith. Ready when you are.”
CHAPTER 12
RIGGS
Iwas not, in fact, ready.
I brought Smith home, anyway, waiting in front of the door to the shop while he parked. The other times I’d seen him, he’d always carried himself with a sort of unsure tension. Smith was all frowns and hunched shoulders, posturing and playing pretend when he realized people were looking at him. But watching him lock his car, pocket his keys, and make his way down the street, he was quite the opposite. Smith walked toward me like a confident man on a mission, like sex—or submission—was the answer he’d been looking for all along.
“You sure you want to come up?” I asked, shoving my key into the door.
“I came all this way.”
