Leary
Reeve stares at me, then gives a slight nod of acceptance. He swivels his head to look around and I notice that the bartender has his back to us, watching a baseball game on one of the TVs mounted on the wall. Satisfied with the small measure of privacy we have at this moment, Reeve looks back at me. “Now, let me see a little bit of those stockings.”
My breath hitches as his gaze drags down to my lap and his left arm leaves the back of my chair. He turns his body to shield me from the bartender and takes the edge of my skirt in between his index finger and thumb. He drags it up slowly—just a few inches are all that’s really needed before the lace edges are revealed. Reeve turns his hand and runs his knuckles over my skin that’s peeping out.
“Spread your legs,” he murmurs, giving my thigh a nudge.
I tilt to the side again, confirming the bartender has his back to us. No one else is in the bar, although I can see several people walking in and out of the lobby not thirty feet away. Still, Reeve has me blocked from anyone’s view.
My legs slowly uncross, but they’re not spread enough for Reeve’s liking. He sticks his hand in between my thighs and gives another nudge. “Farther.”
I comply, thrilled and frightened at the same time that we could be caught. My heartbeat is hammering and prickles of excitement race across my skin.
Reeve angles his head to the right slightly so he can get a better view, using his hand to inch my skirt up a little higher. His smiles approvingly then lifts his gaze to mine. “Black lace panties sort of your thing?”
“I have other colors,” I say tartly.
“I like the black lace,” he says offhandedly, then immediately inches his finger underneath the elastic at my hip.
“Reeve,” I say on a whispered gasp. “Don’t.”
He ignores me, running his finger over me and inching farther down to where I know he’s going to find me starting to get soaked.
My hand flies to his wrist in a feeble attempt to halt his progress but he’s too strong, and really, I don’t want him to stop.
“We’ll get caught,” I say.
“So what?” he murmurs, the tip of his finger now running up and down my folds. His gaze is pinned to his hand between my legs, lustful fascination filling his eyes.
The fact he doesn’t care if we get caught is a turn-on, and even though I’m afraid we’ll get busted at any moment, my legs spread even wider.
Reeve gives a barely audible groan and then easily slides his index finger inside me. My lips part, my eyes close and I let my breath out in a shaky stutter, trying to control my reaction. It most certainly would not be good to let out the deep moan that is swirling inside my chest.
“Fuck, this is hot,” Reeve whispers, curling his finger inside me before relaxing it to slide out. Leaving me partially unshielded, Reeve removes his right arm from the bar. Before I can protest, he uses both hands to roughly pull my panties to the side, completely baring my pussy to him. Then his right arm goes back up on the wooden surface, his body turns again to hide me, and I have to wonder if the bartender is still watching the TV or us.
Reeve drops his left hand back down between my legs and runs his knuckles over my mound. “I could feel you were bare,” he mutters with a smile, “but seeing it is even better. Wish I could bend you over right here and run my tongue over you.”
“Oh, God,” I moan as my head tilts back. Reeve uses my distraction to push two fingers in me and I can’t help but jerk in pure pleasurable torture.
“Shh,” he soothes me. A quick look back over his shoulder seems to satisfy Reeve. He turns back with a big grin. “Don’t want the bartender to know what we’re doing, do we?”
“This is insane,” I gasp as he slowly pumps his fingers. “We need to stop.”
“Tell you what,” he says thoughtfully, his eyes pinning me with challenge. “I’ll give you a choice. You continue to let me finger fuck you until you come, right here, or you go with me to the bathroom where we’ll have a bit more privacy.”
“Bathroom,” I gasp as his fingers pull out of me and brush against my clit, causing my hips to rocket off the chair.
“Good choice,” he growls, pulling his hand away. My own hands go to the edges of my dress, pulling it down.
Reeve turns, takes his drink, and downs it in one gulp, hissing through his teeth over the burn. I stand from the chair, grab my purse, and ignore my martini.
I don’t even look backward at the bartender as Reeve takes my hand and leads me into the lobby. I have no clue where the bathrooms are, but apparently Reeve does, because he moves with purpose. He nods his head at a few people who appear to be leaving but doesn’t stop to chat.
No, this man is on a mission to finish me off.
Leading me back past the elevators, he turns right down a short hall and I see a recessed alcove that houses men’s and women’s restrooms.
Reeve walks straight to the men’s room, pulling me along. He pushes the swinging door open and sticks his head in, listening carefully. Satisfied it’s empty, he walks in and I have no choice but to follow.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been a men’s bathroom and I look around curiously—marble double sink, dark navy-blue walls with copper sconces, and two urinals on the wall.
“Bingo,” Reeve says and my attention turns to the three stalls on the back wall. They are encased floor to ceiling in dark stained wood carpentry, the front doors inset with thick louvers that are angled so you can’t see in but most assuredly can see out. They afford the person—or persons, as may be the case—inside complete privacy from prying eyes.
Prying ears, probably not so much, but it’s a risk that Reeve is apparently willing to take as he pulls me toward the stalls. He gives a brief rap of his knuckles on each door and when no one answers, he chooses the stall on the end, farthest away from the sink and urinals.
Before I know it, he has me pushed inside, the door slammed shut behind us and locked, and his hands on my face to pull me in for a brutal kiss. I sink into it immediately, my own hands grasping his wrists for support, tasting the mellowness of Kentucky bourbon on his lips. Our tongues duel as he pushes me up against the side wall. He nudges one strong thigh in between my legs and then leans into me so hard I can barely breathe.
I’ve always felt oxygen was overrated, though, so I continue to kiss him with a rising fever within me.
Abruptly, Reeve pulls away from me and I actually moan at the loss of his mouth on mine. I reach for him, but he bats my hands away, his breathing harsh and strained. He drops to his knees, his ass bumping into the opposite border of the stall as his hands dive under my skirt.
In one fluid motion, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs. He’s efficient, grasping an ankle to pull the panties free, then his hands go back between my thighs to push my legs apart.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, because all of this happened in about five seconds flat and my lips are still tingling just from our kiss.
“Gotta taste you,” he says in a guttural voice I recognize as fueled by lust.
“Oh, God,” I moan as his hands peel me apart and his mouth closes over me. His chest rumbles in appreciation over my taste. He runs his tongue up my center, puts his lips around my clit and nips me with his teeth. My hips shoot off the back wall, straight into his face, and he groans in approval. He dips his chin, shoves his tongue inside me, and pumps it in and out.
And never have I ever felt something like this before. So primal, hard edged, completely wild, and uninhibited, with no thoughts to consequences or regrets. I’ve never had a man move his mouth over me like this, as if his very life depended on possessing this part of me.
My head falls back, cracks loudly on the wall, and I bite my tongue to stop from screaming in pleasure.
Reeve
Holy fucking Christ, she tastes good.
Her soft, bare pussy presses against my face and her inner muscles contract around my tongue. Her hips gyrate, urging me on.
I feel like my lungs are constricted from the pleasure of this hard-core mouth fucking I’m giving Leary, and I’m possessed with the need to make her come harder than she ever has in her life.
I need to do that to show her that I’m in charge of her.
At least for the moment, until she manages to one-up me again.
Leary’s hands come to my head, her fingers sliding through my hair and then gripping it hard. She pulls against me, shoving my face deeper into her. I pull my tongue back, lick upward slowly and then concentrate on that clit of hers. It’s swollen, stiff, and in much need of release.
I swirl my tongue around it, sometimes stiffening it to push hard, other times lapping at her gently. It’s at the gentle times when she jerks my hair to silently demand I go harder. I’m so fucking turned on right now by her reaction to me, and I can’t help dropping one hand to rub myself through my pants.
Fuck, I need to come.
Leary’s movements against me get more insistent, and she sucks in a deep breath, her legs stiffening. She’s close to blowing and I’m not ready for that to happen just yet.
Reluctantly pulling my mouth away from her, I stand up and start working my belt open.
“Why’d you stop?” Leary says with need.
I risk a glance at her and my heart slams hard against my chest over the blazing-hot lust in her eyes. Her cheeks are pink, her forehead shiny with sweat, her breasts heaving with strained breath.
I pause in my quest to free my cock just long enough to tell her, “I’m going to fuck you now. Want to be inside you when you come.”
If I thought Leary’s eyes were hot before, they go absolutely molten from my declaration. She stares at me just a moment, then her hands shoot out to my pants, knocking my own out of the way to work at my button and zipper.
I use the opportunity to grab my wallet out of my back pocket and although I’m smoothly able to grab the condom I tucked in there earlier today—because I was hoping this might happen—my urgent need to fuck Leary causes me to bobble my wallet. It falls from my hands, almost lands in the toilet but luckily bounces off to the floor. I’ll worry about it later.
Leary’s hands push at my pants and boxers until they move past my hips and my cock springs free. One hand goes to the base of my erection, where she squeezes me roughly as she urges, “Hurry.”
I rip open the condom, grab the tip, and while Leary holds me, I roll it on. I lean in briefly to give her a hot, deep kiss and then pull away so I can concentrate on getting inside her.
Bending down, I hoist her up under her ass, her arms immediately going to my shoulders for leverage. I push her back into the wall, reach down with one hand and guide the head of my shaft into her slick folds. I rub it back and forth, spreading her moisture, thumping it a few times against her clit, all of which causes Leary to squirm in my arms.
With a slow circle of her hips and more guidance from my hand, the end of my cock nudges into her just a fraction of an inch. I glance down and, fuck . . . that’s hot . . . me getting ready to impale her.
I look back up to Leary and while holding her up with my forearm wedged under her ass and the support of the wall, I let go of myself and clamp my other hand firmly over her mouth. Her eyes go wide in confusion.
“This is going to make you scream, baby,” I warn her before slamming my hips forward. My cock sinks deeply into her until my pelvis is pressed tightly against hers. Just as I suspected, Leary lets a cry of pleasure loose but my hand muffles it. I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard to suppress the animalistic sounds that want to break free.
“Shh,” I whisper. “Still need to be quiet. Someone could come in.”
She nods and I remove my hand from her mouth. I readjust her weight in my arms, now using both hands to spread her wide and hold her back against the wall.
Then I start moving within her. I don’t bother with a slow buildup, because this is about us both getting off as quickly as we can to avoid detection, and besides, I don’t want to waste that delicious orgasm that had started to break free from her before I stopped eating her pussy.
I tunnel into Leary, forcefully ramming myself into her. She closes her eyes and her lips curl upward in dreamy pleasure. Her arms tighten around my neck as I rest my forehead against hers. We both valiantly suppress the noise level we want to unleash, but there’s no stopping the heavy breathing or the slapping of my skin against hers.
The debauchery of it all, the frantic fucking, the risk of getting caught—it’s all almost too much to bear and I can’t hold back the orgasm that starts building inside me. I decide to let it go, hoping to God Leary will be with me but intent on getting her off with my mouth afterward if I blow before her.
Game plan in effect for a massive fucking nut bust, I start thrusting into her faster.
That’s when the bathroom door opens and I hear two men talking to each other as they walk in.
My hips slow down but there’s no way I can stop moving. It’s physically impossible for me to stop fucking Leary.
Pulling my forehead away from hers, I take a cautious look to see how she’s doing, still pumping in and out of her at a much slower pace. Her eyes are filled with flaming lust and just a tiny bit of fear as she stares at me. The men continue to talk and then I hear them both pissing in the urinals.
She mouths at me, “Don’t stop.”
I give Leary a mischievous grin and pick back up the pace of my thrusts. Not hard enough to create the skin-slapping sound, but deep enough to cause her breathing to start hitching again. When I hear the flush, I use the opportunity to mask the sound and slam into her hard, grinding my pelvis against hers.
Leary can’t help it and lets out a tiny moan that shouldn’t be heard over the flushing and the men talking, but they abruptly go silent. They move from full-blown piss chatter to utter quiet, and I know, without a doubt, they know there are two people in the stall fucking.
This should give me pause, make me stop my movements, but God help me, it only turns me on more. Knowing that there are two people out there listening to us fuck.
I raise my eyebrows at Leary to see what she wants me to do. She bites her lower lip as if in consideration while I move my cock against her shallowly. The men still don’t talk, and I imagine they are probably grinning at each other, heads cocked to the side to see if they can hear anything else.
The men apparently decide to get busy with washing their hands, because the sinks turn on at the same time Leary tightens her arms around me, grinding her hips around my cock.
Breath hisses out from between my teeth and I start to increase the depth of my thrusts once more. I keep the pace slower, so as to minimize the noise of our skin slapping, but that doesn’t stop me from still fucking her hard.
The sinks turn off and the men seem to be taking their time drying their hands. I smile at Leary and she smiles back at me while I continue plowing her.
I can only hope the men leave before we reach our conclusion, because I think it’s going to be a futile attempt to stay quiet, but they don’t seem to be moving. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back, but I’m sure as hell not going to stop, either.
The decision on when to come, though, is completely taken out of my hands when Leary reaches between our bodies and starts rubbing her clit. She gives a tiny hum when her fingers make contact, and fuck, that right there is sexy—knowing that she’s desperately wanting to get off.
I can’t help it. I start thrusting faster while Leary plays with herself. Blood roars in my head, so loud that I have no clue if the men have left or not, but I couldn’t fucking care less. Now I’m in a desperate race to come right alongside Leary and I start pounding her into the wall, not giving a shit who is standing out there.
Leary’s the first to go. Her hand stills on her body, her eyes squeeze shut. I have to give her credit . . . she suppresses every bit of sound as her pussy clamps down hard on my dick and her body starts to shake in my arms. She comes quietly and very beautifully and it’s my undoing.
I push into her one more time, feel the fire boiling upside of my balls and shooting straight out the end of my dick. My cock spasms hard inside her, pulse after pulse of orgasmic release as I empty into her without making a fucking peep.
The roaring in my ears starts to quiet, my forehead now back against Leary’s as we both try to catch our breath. My legs are so weak from that orgasm that I have to lock them so I don’t drop to the floor with her in my arms.
Lifting my head, I give Leary a silent but deep kiss of satisfaction. When I pull away, she’s smiling at me.
“Nice,” we both hear from outside the stall.
And then another voice, “Fucking hot.”
