My insides squirm. The inside of my pants squirms more.
I flick a nervous glance at the door. There are enough gaps around the edges that someone could easily see that two peopleare in here, not to mention the twelve inch gap at the floor where our feet can clearly be seen. “Someone could come in.”
He shoves the stall door closed with a sharp slap that makes me jump.
“You better be quick then,” he says, murmuring against the side of my neck. A violent shiver races down my spine. His voice drops dangerously. “Take. Me. Out.”
That hot, electric fire floods my veins, and I obey instantly.
I push down the front of his athletic pants with one hand, my other wrapping around his cock. My breath catches. It’s hot and smooth, veiny, and heavy in my hand.
He doesn’t need to tell me what to do.
I stroke him, rough and eager, not bothering to be gentle even though there’s nothing but the sweat of my palm to ease the glide of my hand. He quickly starts to leak, thrusting into my hand, making my palm slicker.
He purrs filth against my ear to encourage me. “Good girl… just like that… such a good girl for me…”
The praise reverberates through my bones. My knees almost buckle as if I were the one being jacked off.
Instinctively, I stroke him the way I like to stroke myself, tightening on the upstroke and rounding over the tip.
Brody groans so deep in his throat it could be mistaken for a growl. He even bares his teeth before his mouth drops open. His hips jerk, and he drops a hand to cover mine, guiding me to squeeze harder, pump faster until he gasps and comes.
Cum fountains out of him, the first spurt shooting up my arm. The rest I manage to catch in my hand, thanks to him holding it in place while he pumps his last small bursts of release into it.
For whatever reason, I’m panting harder than he is. Both of us lean back against opposite walls of the stall, my handful of cum and his dick still lolling out of his pants. Brody is smiling like the devil himself, no doubt pleased to have ruined me some more.
He reaches a hand out and grips my shirt, pulling me against him. I hold my hand out to the side, unsure of what to do with it. My eyes widen with shock when my chest lands against his. I can feel his softening cock along the hard ridge of mine, straining through my pants.
He tries to pull me in for a kiss, but I flinch. I don’t even mean to. It just happens. It’s not like I didn’t kiss him earlier today, but it was too much. Like sucking his tongue was more erotic than sucking his dick. I felt too much and came in my pants for absolutely no reason. It was the single most mortifying moment of my life. Worse than the stairwell even, because he was being so damn nice to me.
Brody’s eyebrow raises. Before I can apologize, his eyes drop to my hand and my palm full of his cum.
I stare at it too, wide-eyed and horrified that I’m still just holding it like this. But what am I supposed to do? I’m half frozen with fear and far too hard to leave this stall. It’s his mess, he should be the one to clean it up.
“Lick it,” he says.
My head snaps up. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice is low, controlled. “I told you I wouldn’t let you waste a drop next time, didn’t I?”
I hesitate. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. The little bit I got last night was surprisingly not terrible. It was like the first sip of a milkshake, that little burst of flavor that makes you want more. At the same time, the idea of it kind of grosses me out. I’m definitely not supposed to like stuff like that. What if I put it in my mouth and gag?
Or worse… what if I like it?
“You’re not ignoring your captain, are you?”
He tilts his head, curious how I’ll respond. He’s given me an out with that simple question. But I chickened out earlier and flat out ran away from him like a coward. And it’s not the first time I’ve done it. If I keep it up, will he get bored of me? Will he stop this ridiculous, dangerous game we’ve been playing?
Whether I want to admit it to myself or not, I don’t want it to stop. Not like this. First of all, I can’t let him win.
Slowly, I bring my hand to my mouth. And without breaking eye contact, I run my tongue over my palm, licking up most of the cooling load. I let it coat my tongue before holding my mouth open, tongue out, so he can see it dripping off my tongue.
A soft, approving rumble escapes him. I swallow reflexively, acutely aware that a part of him is inside me now.
“That’s right, kitten,” he murmurs. “Lick it all up. Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
Heat floods me, shame and want tangled in my gut and ramping me up even more. It’s not gross. The fact that it’s cold is a little off-putting, but I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it at all. It’s salty andsweet and just slightly bitter, but the flavor isn’t strong enough to overwhelm. Honestly, it smells stronger than it tastes.
