by Eva Ashwood
He’s big—bigger than I realized when I was sitting next to him on the barstool. Or maybe it feels that way because he’s made of solid fucking muscle, every bit of him sculpted and powerful. His body seems to dwarf mine, broader and taller and stronger than mine in every way, but that doesn’t stop me from giving back as good as I get, nipping at his lips and raking my nails over the skin of his scalp and neck.
He grunts as I drag my fingers through his tousled brown hair, finally letting go of my blonde and blue strands so that his hands can roam over my body. He slides them over my hips and ass, around the curve of my waist, and over my ribs and breasts, groping and massaging my flesh like he’s trying to lay claim to every fucking inch of me.
My heart is thudding hard in my chest, and I’m gasping in between kisses, stealing breath from his lungs like it could save me from drowning.
Sparks race up and down my limbs, always returning to the coil of heat building low in my belly, and I arch my back as he curves his spine, our bodies molding together despite the difference in our height.
I didn’t expect this. Not any part of it.
I thought we’d be fucking by now—or, hell, maybe even finished already—the temporary release of endorphins momentarily banishing my pain.
Instead, I’m about to come from his kiss alone, to break apart with his cock grinding against me through his pants and his tongue sweeping my mouth like he fucking owns me.
A whimper escapes from my throat, and the sound seems to do something to him.
He growls back at me, almost a warning, as one hand shoves up the hem of my tank top and the other flips open the button of my jeans. He drags my zipper down quickly and then slips his hand inside my panties, groaning when his fingers encounter the slick wetness of my arousal.
“Fuck,” he bites out, dragging his lips away from mine.
He moves like lightning again, like some kind of barely controlled hurricane, shoving my pants and panties down over my hips before picking me up and perching me on the edge of the sink. His hands are rough as he yanks my pants the rest of the way off, slipping off my shoes and underwear too.
I’m bare from the waist down, sitting on the edge of a sink I’m pretty sure isn’t built to hold my weight, and I’m about to tell the gorgeous stranger to put me down when he grabs my thighs with both hands, spreads me open, and licks me.
My head drops back, nearly crashing into the mirror as sensation explodes inside me. I barely choke back a scream of pleasure, turning it into a breathy whine instead. My thighs press against his hold, my legs curling around his shoulders as he laps at me again, crouching on the dirty floor in front of me like this bathroom is his church and I’m his fucking god.
Light dances in my vision as my fingers clutch at his thick, soft hair, unabashedly shoving his face deeper into my pussy.
He grunts in satisfaction, fucking me with his tongue until I’m panting breathlessly, writhing beneath the onslaught.
But apparently, that’s not enough for him.
His tongue goes back to my clit, teasing the little bud in a circular pattern that almost stops my heart as he slides a finger inside me. I’m so fucking wet that I can feel myself coating his finger, coating his face, and he groans again, muttering something under his breath.
When he shoves a second finger inside me, my toes curl, air leaving my lungs in a rush.
Fuck. Oh, fuck.
He pumps them in and out of me, a filthy wet slapping sound filling the room as his tongue matches the tempo of his fingers.
“Fuck!”
My heels dig into his back as the word is ripped out of me. My back arches as my pussy walls clamp down hard around his fingers, making me feel every movement even more acutely.
He keeps finger fucking me and lapping at me as the orgasm crests in wave after wave of pleasure, each one making my body shudder and jerk.
Even after it passes and my muscles begin to unlock, he keeps his fingers stuffed inside me, his wet tongue still sliding over my clit in soft flicks.
I let out a helpless little groan, and he looks up at me, finally dragging his face away from my pussy. His voice is a rough burn, hoarse and deep.
“What’s your name?”
I didn’t plan on telling him that. But then again, I didn’t plan on pretty much anything that’s happened since we entered this bathroom.
“Sophie,” I murmur. My voice is raspy too, and I have a fleeting thought that maybe I’ve been screaming a lot louder than I meant to.
Not that I really care if people in the bar know what we’re doing, as long as none of those assholes come knocking on the door.
“Sophie.”
The chestnut-haired stranger gazes up at me, his lips still glistening with arousal, as he samples my name on his tongue.
Maybe he likes the way it tastes, because he flashes a sinful grin that makes my pussy clench around his fingers.
“Do you know what I want to do to you, Sophie?” he murmurs.
Heat spikes in my veins. “What?”
My legs are still wrapped around his shoulders, and his breath ghosts against my core with every exhale. I realize he’s moved one hand down between his own legs, rubbing at his cock through the fabric of his expensive-looking jeans as he stares up at me.
“I want to bend you over the sink and fuck you until you shatter the fucking mirror with your screams.” His fingers curl and uncurl inside me as he speaks, the movement torturously slow as he rubs against my g-spot. “I want to feel your legs wrapped around me as I fuck you against the wall. I want to drop you on my cock and bury myself so deep inside you that it ruins us both.”
There’s a dark truth in his voice that makes my stomach flip. His words are more than just dirty talk—he means them in a way that goes far beyond that.
He licks his lips, still staring up at me with those penetrating blue-green eyes. “Your pussy is so fucking sweet. I want it around my dick. I want to lose myself inside you.”
Even as he speaks, he keeps moving his fingers, and he has to know what he’s doing to me—how he’s ratcheting up the arousal inside me again, making my hips shift restlessly as my body cries out for more.
“Then do it,” I murmur, something almost like a challenge in my voice.
In case he didn’t get the fucking hint, I grab his hand, yanking his teasing fingers out of me and hauling them up to my mouth. I wrap my lips around them, sucking hard as I swirl my tongue over his slick skin.
His eyes flare wide, and when I bite down hard on his thick fingers, he surges to his feet, freeing his hand from my mouth before hauling me off the edge of the sink.
I wrap my legs around him just like he wanted, and in three long strides, he slams my back against the wall, grinding his clothed cock against my soaked pussy.
“Can you take me, Sophie?” he grunts out, one hand sliding between us to yank at the button and fly of his jeans. “Can you take all of me?”
There’s a challenge in his voice too, and I don’t bother answering it with words. I just drop my head and kiss him, sucking my own taste from his skin as our tongues go to war again.
He keeps one hand on my ass as his other shoves his pants down enough to free his cock, pulling away just enough to line himself up with my entrance. Then he drives inside me, pinning me to the wall as he impales me in a single stroke.
My body goes rigid at the shock of the intrusion, every nerve-ending firing at once. He’s big. Long and thick, filling me up so completely that I can’t even think about anything else.
All that’s left to think about, all that exists in this moment, is the stranger’s cock inside my body, pressing against my walls, forcing my pussy to stretch to accommodate him.
I think he’s about to get his wish. Or half of it, anyway.
I think he’s about to ruin me.
He lets out a choked groan, pausing momentarily with his pelvis pressed flush against mine. I’m not sure if he’s giving me a moment to adjust or giving himself one, but i
t doesn’t really matter. The moment of stillness doesn’t last long.
His lips move against mine as he draws out and thrusts in again, his large hands palming my ass to hold me up. With every stroke, it’s like my body has to learn all over again how fucking big he is, and my pulse flutters in my neck as sensation spikes inside me over and over again, a blend of pleasure and pain that erases rational thought.
I’m pinned between him and the wall, entirely dominated by his large body, and there’s nothing I can do but hold on as he pounds into me.
I’m beyond screaming now. I can’t get enough air in my lungs to let out anything more than soft, mewling gasps. But that doesn’t mean we’re being quiet. His deep grunts are punctuated by the heavy sound of our bodies banging against the wall, and I swear the entire room is shaking from the force of his thrusts.
Heat is unfurling in my body again, spreading out from my core to my extremities as another orgasm gathers inside me.
And when it comes, the stranger clamps his mouth over mine, sucking down every sound I make, consuming each one until all that’s left are broken little sobs.
“Fuck. Not yet. Not fucking yet,” he mutters, pressing his forehead to mine, but I know it’s too late.
I can feel him swelling inside me, his cock growing thicker and harder. And when he slams into me one last time, I feel the heat of his cum as it lashes my insides. He pulses inside me, grinding his hips against mine as he lets out a string of curses.
He sounds both relieved and pissed.
Like he needed that as bad as I did, but he’s mad as fuck that it’s over.
I can relate.
His hips finally stop moving, and he breathes heavily against me for a moment, our bodies plastered together against the wall as his cheek rests against mine.
My shirt never even came off, and my legs are the only parts of either of us that are actually bare. But I can feel the heat of his skin through both of our shirts as his chest rises and falls against my breasts, and the way his body curls around mine feels strangely intimate.
“What’s your name?” I whisper.
His hot breath brushes over my sweat-dampened skin, and he drops his head to taste my neck again before he answers.
“Gray.”
3
Gray.
I don’t repeat the name out loud like he did mine, but I mouth it silently, squeezing my inner walls around him as I do. He grunts, his fingers digging into my ass as he grinds his hips against me again, and I smile—the first fucking time all day that’s happened.
I’m coming down from the high, my body spiraling back to earth after two devastating orgasms. But I’m not ready for reality to intrude again.
Maybe Gray isn’t either, because for several long moments, we stay just like we are, our bodies moving softly together as we try to draw out every last drop of pleasure.
Finally, he pulls out of me and sets me down, keeping his hands on my hips for a second until he’s sure I’ve got my balance. He grabs a few paper towels from the dispenser and hands them to me, and I clean up the mess between my legs as best as I can while he tucks himself away and zips up his pants.
As I toss the cum-covered paper towels in the trash, it occurs to me that neither one of us stopped for a second to talk about protection or any of that shit. I’ve been on the pill basically since I hit puberty because I don’t trust anyone and I sure as fuck don’t want to get pregnant.
Even on the pill though, what we just did was reckless and stupid—and if I’m being honest with myself, part of me liked that. Part of me did it intentionally.
Maybe Gray did too.
Maybe we’re both looking for a way to self-destruct.
Gray picks up my pants, panties, and shoes from the floor and brings them over to me. I toss the panties in the trash because there’s no fucking way I’m putting them back on now, and Gray’s eyes heat as he watches me tug on my jeans over my bare pussy.
An answering flush of heat rises up in me. My body already feels empty, missing the overwhelming stretch of Gray’s cock, the way the overload of sensation narrowed my focus down to him and nothing else.
When I’ve slipped my shoes back on, Gray steps forward. His cheeks are still a little flushed, and his messy brown hair is even more mussed up now that my fingers have been in it.
He catches a lock of my hair, lightly twisting the blonde and blue strands around his finger, then uses that hold on me to pull me toward him. I go, not because of the tug on my scalp but because I really fucking want to kiss him one more time before this is done.
One arm loops behind my back as he presses his lips to mine. Then he releases me and steps back, his tongue darting out to run along his bottom lip. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he closes his mouth before whatever it is can escape.
It occurs to me that the last thing he said to me was his name. We haven’t spoken at all since he pulled out of me, although something heavy hangs in the air between us, begging to be put into words.
I clear my throat, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll go first. Maybe give me a minute so it’s not obvious we were fucking.”
A smile twitches at his lips. “Little late for that, I think.”
Fuck, I want to kiss that smile.
I want to delve my hands into his hair again.
I want more.
“Right.” I nod, letting out a soft laugh. “Well, uh, thanks.”
Before I can do something stupid and even more reckless than what I’ve already done, I unlock the door and slip out.
A few heads turn my way as I emerge from the back hallway, some people looking curious and some looking lascivious, but I ignore all of them and make a beeline for the front door.
The night air of Los Angeles feels cool on my heated skin, and the sheen of sweat at the nape of my neck tickles as it dries slowly.
Now that I’m outside the bar and away from prying eyes, I allow my footsteps to slow a little, giving my wobbly legs time to adjust. My whole body is still buzzing, and I try to cling to the feeling of weightless euphoria that flooded me as I came—but it’s already slipping away.
“Fuck,” I mutter, coming to a stop as I press a hand over my chest.
Then I let out a startled yelp as a large body collides with mine from behind, thick arms wrapping around my waist.
“It’s not enough.” Gray’s voice is a deep rumble in my ear. “I’m not fucking finished.”
My body goes lax in his arms as something almost like relief floods me.
Maybe I should be scared that a man I don’t even know can elicit that kind of immediate reaction in me, but the thought is banished from my mind as his spicy scent envelops me. Keeping his arms firmly wrapped around me, he steers me into an alley to our left, kicking away a discarded beer bottle before I trip over it.
One hand leaves my waist to sweep the hair away from my neck, and then his mouth is on me again. He presses me against the wall, and my hands come up, palms scraping against the rough brick as he grinds his cock against my ass.
He’s hard again, his dick straining against the confines of his jeans like a steel rod.
I groan when he flicks open the button of my jeans and shoves his hand into my pants for the second time tonight, his fingers moving unerringly to my clit like the first time was just the fucking practice round. Like he’s memorized every inch of me already.
“You thought you could just throw your fucking panties in the trash and walk out of that room with your hot little pussy covered by nothing but your jeans?” he growls, sliding a finger through my folds.
I’m already wet—still wet—and he drags my slick arousal up to my clit, using the wetness to glide the pads of his fingers over my nub.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, nipping and kissing my shoulder as he plays with my clit like it’s a toy he’ll never give up.
His hips are pulsing against mine, his cock demanding and hot, and this time, I can’t fucking wait for him
to finish teasing me. Taking my hands off the wall, I let my cheek and torso rest against it as I reach for my zipper and yank it down, then shove my pants over my hips.
He lets out a tortured sound and pinches my clit between his thumb and forefinger, drawing a choked cry from my lips. I don’t know if it’s meant as a punishment or a reward, but I don’t have time to consider it.
The sharp snick of a zipper fills the air as Gray undoes his own pants, and before I can even gather a full breath into my lungs to prepare myself, he’s sliding inside me again.
My body is better prepared for him this time, already acquainted with the length and girth of his cock, and we both groan as he bottoms out inside me.
“Hands on the wall,” he orders, and I do it without a single thought.
His hands fall to my hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as he tugs me backward a little, forcing me to hinge at the waist. My face and breasts leave the wall, and my fingernails practically claw at the brick as I work to keep my balance.
“Jesus fuck,” he mutters, his hips slapping against my ass as he begins to drive into me hard and fast. “What are you doing to me?”
I moan in response, arching my back more in invitation as my mouth falls open slightly.
His hunger is like a living thing. I can feel it radiating from him, feel the force of it in every thrust, every shift of his grip on my hips as our bodies collide over and over.
It’s hard.
Fast.
Brutal.
He fucks me like a death row inmate eating his last meal—vicious and ravenous, determined to leave nothing behind.
And when he comes, he wraps an arm around my torso and hauls me upright, pressing my back to his chest as his other hand finds my clit. All it takes is a few circles of his fingertips and I’m fucking done for, falling over the edge with him as he throbs inside me.
We both collapse forward a little, and I put my hands on the wall again to catch us, wondering dazedly if his legs are as wrecked as mine are. I can feel his heart slamming against my back, and I miss the steady rhythm of it as he pulls away.