“Well, if it isn’t Winn Dixie.”
25
FITZ
Iwatch her from the shadows as she braces on the trash can to haul herself upright, standing outside in the middle of an alley, picking up her clothes, my cum leaking down her legs. Her hair a mess. Dirt on her hands.
I did that to her.
It’s thrilling.
Powerful.
Intoxicating.
Watching her as her hair plasters to her cheeks as she stuffs those huge, gorgeous tits back in the sweater, I want them in my mouth, want my cum all over them, want her hands tied over her head as she tries to lick them clean.
My cum mixes with the rainwater to slide down the bare curves of her legs.
My signature is the bruises forming dark on her thighs.
Her ass.
My fists clench. That tight fucking ass.
She picks up her dirty clothes. I’m hard again when she bends over, the red swollen split of her pussy glistening in the light from the security wall pack.
I palm myself through the pants, fight the urge to stalk her back into the alley, throw her against the door, wrap her legs around me, and fuck her pussy until I’m filling her with my cum.
She has to use both hands to open the heavy metal door to get back into the café.
Imagining her in there with shaky fingers cleaning my cum from between her legs, my pants are tight. I wonder if her pussy’s wet again, needing my cock.
I wait until she finishes, walks to her car with her coat on over her ruined clothes.
I don’t trust myself enough to follow her home.
I head back to the penthouse, playing it on repeat.
I’ve never done that before.
The worst I’ve done is have sex with a woman in a VIP lounge of a club.
That was nothing compared to this.
I want to lie down on my couch, relive the memory of fucking her, jack off thinking about how scared, how excited, how greedy she was for a stranger’s cock.
I thought that would get it out of my system, get me over her.
But I just want to drive over to her house, sneak in and—
What, fuck her in a bed? Seems so mundane after fucking her face and her mouth and her ass in a dirty alley.
Too bad my family is waiting in my penthouse. I try to think cold thoughts.
“Crawford! Are you moving in, getting some brotherly bonding time in?”
“Where did you go?” He’s suspicious.
