I focus on breathing. My heart feels calm. Anxiety is settling to a level that’s bearable. If I don’t think about it too hard, I think it’ll go away. The adrenaline still lives in my blood, and that reminds me of how euphoric standing up for something is.
I’ve never had a shot of bravery before this. Even with the inevitable consequences considered, overall, I feel good. I understand why people get hooked on this feeling.
Through the adrenaline, I get ahold of my bearings. The bathroom isn’t anything fancy. The walls are clean, mostly—aside from the random graffitied phone numbers and song lyrics here and there. The detached sink faucet laying across the dingy counter is the only indicator as to why the bathroom is out-of-order.
With my neck no longer tight with tension, I take everything in. The room’s interior is one thing. The slow, methodic back-and-forth of Rosie’s hands on my torso is another.
I gulp. “Still reeling from everything, but I’m starting to feel good After the worries start fading away... you’re right. Only the good stuff is left.”
She nods and moves her right hand to my chest. “Heart feeling okay too?”
I don’t know if she means for it to sound so sultry. The club’s music has shifted from experimental EDM to remixed R&B, and her tilted smile matches the switch too well. Vibrations from the slower bass crawl their way over my skin and emphasize where our bodies meet.
“Heart still needs to calm down,” I mumble. “How do you feel?”
Selfishly, I’m asking for more reasons than curiosity.
The green blazer of my costume starts to feel suffocating.
“After seeing you out there, like that?” Her left hand traces the waist band of my slacks. “You don’t want to know how I feel.”
She might be trying to make the anxiety fade away quicker. Maybe she’s just teasing me for the fun of it. I’ve learned she likes to do that. Maybe it’s all in my head and Rosalie doesn’t realize how easily she can turn me into putty in her hands.
She grips my waist band tighter, pulling me closer, and I drown in want. It’s become so common since meeting Rosalie, I’ve started to wear it like a second skin. It’s easy to get lost in her and forget about anything else.
Rationally, I check over my shoulder to check the door. Once I see the metal turned sideways, I throw that rationality out the window.
One hand wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me. How quickly she can light a fire under my skin. The other grips the back of her neck, rubbing harsh circles into the muscles just like I’ve learned she loves.
Her body responds immediately, pressing herself to me. Throat producing a high whine that flies straight to my dick.
“Now? Here?”
I yank the back of her hair. Just slightly, so she knows I’m asking out of clarification, not nerves. If getting roughed in a club is what she wants, then that’s what she’ll get.
Rosalie lets out breathy sigh and I grip her waist tighter. “Not everything.” Her hands hurriedly find the metal of my belt loop. “Just let me suck you off, please. I’ve been wanting it since you put this fucking suit on and I can’t wait any longer.”
Every piece of fabric becomes suffocating. The lustful glaze of her expression envelopes me, begging me to fold at the one request, but I look at the tattered tiles on the floor and wince.
“Princess, not here. You can’t kneel on this bathroom floor.”
“I don’t care about the floor.” She makes quicker work of my belt, whining and writhing like she needs me more than she wants me. I throw my head back and groan. “Please, Locke. I want it so fucking bad.”
The bass rocking through the walls is the only indication that music is still playing. I don’t hear any of it. Every piece of me is hyper focused on Rosie, her round, parted lips, and the glossy look in her eyes.
“I want it. Please.”
When she reaches her hand under the fabric of my pants and moans the words out, I don’t have the willpower to deny her again.
The first night we had sex, she made it clear that I haven’t been performing to the best of my abilities. Assuming I’d be quiet or reserved is understandable. I don’t mind that she imagined that version of me.
It was the fact that she doubted I could provide her fantasies. She didn’t understand how deep my need to please her goes. If Rosalie wanted an awkward, stumbling guy to boss aroundbetween the sheets, I would give her that. If she asked for me to bring out some toys and work them over her skin, I wouldn’t hesitate.
We just happen to be on the same page about every sexual preference. Rosalie likes being dominated and brought to pleasure. I like seeing her pleased. The gratification of dominating her is a plus.
I work quickly to fulfill her wishes but keep still treat her like a princess. I throw my suit jacket off, fold it into layers, and place it on the ground in front of me.
“Kneel.”
