"Let's go."
"I need a bra and underwear."
He pulled me to the door. "No, you don't."
"Canaan--"
"I'm one wrong move away from coming everywhere, Aerie. We'll be quick, there and back as fast as possible. Okay? So you don't need 'em. Let's go."
So I went. I walked beside him as he strode intently down the street; it was late afternoon on a Saturday, and the streets were busy, the slight drizzle not slowing down the weekend foot traffic. I felt intensely self-conscious as I tried to keep up with Canaan--my tits were bouncing and swaying, as was my ass--which was still stinging and throbbing from the spanking--and I felt the cool breeze wafting up my dress and skimming across my bare, damp core, still aching from the post-orgasm shocks that were only now beginning to fade. I felt Canaan's eyes on me, glanced at him to see that he was taking a lot of longing, aroused glances at my jouncing cleavage, which the V-neck of the dress was only barely concealing.
We reached a convenience store within a couple blocks, and Canaan prowled through the aisles to the "family planning" section, grabbed a box of condoms, and took it to the register. He had my hand in a death grip, and his breathing was ragged. As he let go of my hand to dig cash out of his wallet, I surreptitiously slid my hand to the front of his shorts and under the hoodie, trying to find out if he was still hard or if he'd lost it.
Ohhhh god; he was still hard as a rock.
He glanced at me in warning as he counted out the correct amount cash--the warning was because I had his erection in my hand through the material of his shorts, palm sliding down the thick length. The warning was obvious--keep doing that, and we'd have an embarrassing mess on our hands.
He was nearly running as we left the store, and I had to jog to keep up.
"Canaan, I'm in flats, with no bra--I can't run like this."
He slowed down. "Sorry. But it fucking hurts." He glanced at me, his gaze rife with arousal. "I need to finish inside you."
"We're almost there," I said.
But then we hit a snag--a street musician had set up at the mouth of an alley less than a block from the warehouse. He had a bass drum set up with a kick pedal, and an electric guitar in his hands; he was really, really good, and a crowd had gathered. It was nearly impossible to wade through the crowd, thick as it was, jostling to get closer to the musician as he punctuated his riffs with a thumping, pounding rhythm on the drum.
The crowd was spilling across the sidewalk, blocking the alley that led to the side door of Mike's building, where we were planning on entering. The alley was long and dark, deeply shadowed by the buildings towering on every side--it was surprisingly clean for an alley, with a dumpster full of broken-down cardboard boxes on one side, and a stack of wooden pallets on the other. The alley ended in a T at another alley that was more of a tiny side street, just barely wide enough for a car.
Canaan, somewhat rudely, pushed his way through the crowd, hauling me by the hand so we didn't get separated. Once past the bulk of the crowd, we hustled into the alley, making for the plain steel door leading into Mike's warehouse. We reached the door, and Canaan yanked it open; it squealed on protesting hinges, banged against the wall, and shuddered to a halt, partly open.
I expected Canaan to lead me up the stairs to the bedroom, but instead he stopped in the open doorway and turned around to eye me with mischievous speculation.
"Remember when we talked about fucking in public?"
"Yeah." I glanced around the side of the door at the crowd and the musician, less than fifty feet away. "Canaan, you're not thinking about--"
He had the box of condoms open, a square ripped off of the string. He tossed the box onto the floor inside and handed me the condom. "Put it on me, babe."
"Here?" I asked, hesitating.
He tugged his shorts down a few inches, revealing the straining head of his erection. "Here. Now."
"Canaan, I don't know." I did, though. My heart was pounding; my hands were trembling, excitement thrilling through me.
"Yes, you do." He sidled closer, reached for the hem of my maxi dress. "You want this."
"How do you know?" Was I playing coy? Drawing him out? Or genuinely hesitating? I wasn't sure of the answer, only that I was getting wet with arousal at the thought of doing this here, sheltered and hidden, but still in the open, in a public place.
He slid his fingers up my slit, dragging my wetness and smearing it over my clit, his smirk knowing. "You want this, Aerie. Don't act like you don't."
"Oh fuck," I whispered, as he circled my clit with his fingers, once again bringing me to the quaking edge of climax in no time at all.
He tugged down the sleeves of my dress, and then reached into the V-neck to lift out my breasts, one and then the other, caressing them as he freed them to the cool, damp Seattle evening air. His fingers kept circling as he did this, making me weak in the knees, making me gasp, making me tremble.
He pressed me backward so I was leaning against the frame of the door with the hinges at my spine, his hand under my dress, my breasts hanging in the open, and now I was toppling over the edge as Canaan bent to suckle my nipple, stretching it taut and letting it pop free before turning his attention to the other. I was biting my lip to stifle my need to cry out as the orgasm shook me, and even with my lip caught between my teeth, I still whimpered and gasped and shrieked, spasming under his touch.
He was relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure--he curled his fingers inside me, massaging my G-spot and rubbing his palm against my clit, tongue flicking my nipples, pushing me to a second orgasm, and this time I cried out even louder.
As I gasped and shuddered, breathless from the second orgasm, Canaan grabbed me by the wrists and pressed my hands against the front of his shorts, and I moaned at the feel of his thick erection behind the slippery material of his gym shorts. I slid my hand into his shorts and wrapped my fingers around him, stroking slowly.
He growled, leaning against me, forehead touching mine. "Need you, Aerie."
I rubbed my thumb over the tip of him, smearing his pre-cum. "Need you too, Cane."
He took the condom from me, ripped it open, and rolled the latex over himself. I pushed his shorts down, and he reached up to tear off his sweatshirt.
The musician was still playing, and we could hear the crowd, voices talking, chatting.
A light drizzle was falling, cooling the air even further, and now my bare nipples, already hard from arousal and orgasm, hardened further to diamond peaks.
"I want to hear you scream, Aerie," Canaan murmured.
And then he did something else unexpected: instead of merely pushing my dress up around my hips, he took me by the waist, spun me around to face the doorframe, and ripped my dress off of me entirely, tossing it inside to the floor, out of reach.
Leaving me utterly naked.
This was a public alley, and there was foot traffic, if infrequently. Anyone could walk by at any moment. One of the gathered crowd, so close by, could hear us and be curious and come to investigate the noises.
My pulse was thundering in my ears as Canaan slid up behind me, pressing his erection against me. I glanced over my shoulder at him. "If I'm naked, you have to be too."
He didn't miss a beat, only kicked his shorts away. He grabbed me by the hipbones and pulled me backward so I was bent forward, one hand on the doorframe, the other reaching between my thighs to guide his cock to my entrance. I fitted the thick, broad head against my slit, gasping as he slowly drove into me, a ragged groan escaping him. When he was buried as deep as he could go, Canaan palmed my ass in both hands, kneading and gripping, and then withdrew slowly. When he drove back in, he spanked me...even harder than the last time, so hard the crack echoed in the alley. A scream of surprise flew out of me, and then I had no breath left for screams, because he was spanking me and fucking me, rocking me forward with every pounding thrust, his hand smacking the left side and then the right, and then both hands clapping hard, his hips slapping against me as he drove
in with raw, ragged, gasping grunts. My fingers circled and my tits swayed back and forth, and I felt him filling me, stretching me, the aching sting of being spanked translating yet again into throbbing pleasure that seared deep inside me, bringing me to an orgasm that shook me and left me breathless, and yet, as Canaan's cock slid through the clamping, spasming walls of my pussy, I couldn't help another scream, loud enough to echo, a wanton, desperate, erotic scream unmistakable for anything but the sound of a woman being good and properly fucked, and loving it.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck--" Canaan snarled, his driving thrusts going harder and faster, now, as he finally neared his release.
"Yes, yes, yes!" I screamed, still climaxing, my fingers flying. "Come inside me, Cane...come now!"
"Oh god, Aerie--I'm...fuck, fuck, I'm coming--"
And then I felt him come. He bent over me, cupping my breasts in both hands and using them for leverage as he thrust deep and ground against me, his forehead resting on my nape, breath on my skin, groans and grunts huffing hot on my flesh, his cock driving deeper and deeper.
We climaxed at the same time, his coming at the tail end of mine. I screamed again, and his thrust drove me against the doorframe, forcing me to slam a hand against the door to retain my balance, which slammed open to bang against the wall.
Revealing us.
The crowd had heard us, even over the musician, and when the door slammed open, all eyes went to us. To me, bent forward in the doorway, half visible, Canaan behind me, clutching my breasts, still thrusting. A stunned moment, many pairs of eyes on us, and then I reached, stretching, and snagged the doorknob, tugging the door closed. Canaan pulled away, then, bringing us into the building, and the door latched closed.
We stared at each other a moment, and we both laughed in disbelief.
"Did we really just do that?" I asked, breathless with the rush.
Canaan laughed again, reaching for my hand. "Yeah, we did."
I glanced down at his cock, still sheathed in the condom, now filled with his cum. "We just fucked in public."
"And we got caught."
I stared up at him. "You know, you also promised me dirty poetry while fucking me in public."
He palmed my hips and tugged me against him. "The sound of my hand across your ass was poetry. The way you screamed as I fucked you, the smack of my hips as I fucked you, that was poetry. The sounds we make as we fuck, that's the music."
"I literally just came, and I'm getting turned on again."
"Me too."
"Let's go upstairs," I said.
Canaan gathered the box of condoms and his shorts and hoodie, and I grabbed the empty wrapper and my dress, and we headed up the stairs to the room Canaan was temporarily staying in.
My heart was still thudding hard in my chest, and now that the rush of adrenaline was fading to a heady buzz, I realized there was a maelstrom of emotions whirling inside me.
Canaan was in the bathroom, and I heard the sink going as he washed up. I lay on my stomach on the bed, the cool air soothing my stinging butt, which I was rubbing with one hand.
The further away from the heat of the moment, the more my emotions began to take over, replacing the raging inferno of my libido.
That had been...honestly, the hottest sex of my life, Canaan fucking me from behind in an open doorway. The rough way he used me, took me, the way we'd come at the same time, and even being caught...even though nothing had come of it except some strangers getting a quick glimpse of me in a compromising position...it had been erotic and thrilling and wild, and I'd loved it.
I wanted it again.
I wanted more--more daring, more thrill, more rush of forbidden exhibitionism. I wanted to do something really crazy, really public, just for the rush of it.
But beneath that, there was a deeper, knottier thorn bush of emotions.
Canaan had used sex to distract me from the conversation we both knew we needed to have. I'd known he was doing it, and I'd let him get away with it.
Why?
Because I was still scared? Because having sex was easier than dealing with the possibility of being hurt, and the sense of betrayal and rejection?
It was all of it.
Because, no matter my emotional state, Canaan could always get my sex drive screaming hot in seconds flat, and then I just lost my head and stopped caring...
Until after.
Like now.
I heard his footsteps padding across the hall, and the bed dipped as he sat on the edge, beside me. His touch was warm and soothing, gently massaging my stinging butt. "You're all pinked up back here, babe."
I snorted a laugh. "Yeah, well, you spanked me hard, Canaan."
"And you loved it, admit it."
I didn't answer that. "Canaan, you can't just--" I broke off with a sigh of frustration.
How could I be mad at him for doing the same thing I'd done--avoid reality in favor of crazy sex? I couldn't.
I started over. "We can't keep doing this, Canaan."
His palm rested on one cheek, his thumb gently grazing back and forth. "Doing what?"
"Using sex as a way to avoid talking about things."
He blew out a breath. "We've both done it, more than once now."
"We've been doing it. Maybe even since the cabin." I rolled onto my back and sat up, but my butt still stung so bad I had to shift from side to side. "Damn, you really got me good, Cane," I said, with a wince as I wiggled side to side.
He frowned at me. "Did I actually hurt you?"
I shrugged. "It does sting a lot, still."
He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I'm sorry, Aerie. It seemed like you liked it, and I may have gotten a little carried away." Another kiss, this one to my palm. "I didn't mean to really cause lasting pain."
I felt my tear ducts pricking, for some dumb reason. "Canaan, I--" I tugged my hand away and went back to lying on my stomach. "I can't honestly say that I didn't enjoy the hell out of it, in the moment, because I did. So...no regrets. I'm just a little sensitive, still."
He bent over me, and his lips brushed the stinging flesh of my buttocks, kissing, kissing, palms rubbing and soothing. "I'll make it all better."
God, that felt good; I groaned. "Stop, stop...Canaan, you have to stop."
He kept doing it. "Why?"
"Because that feels too good."
"That's the point."
"No...no, we have to talk."
But his lips were traveling up my spine, sending shivers racing through me, and somehow the stinging wasn't so bad now, and his breath was in my ear, and his words were dirty secrets.
"I can make you feel so good, Aerie. Kiss every inch of you, tease you, lick you, make you beg." He was murmuring, making the words almost into a chant. "Touch you everywhere, kiss your lips, kiss your thighs, make you quiver, make you plead for more. Make you plead for me."
"Canaan..."
"We make music together, Aerie. The way you sigh, the wet sounds as I slide into you. The way you beg me to come, the way your voice breaks when you come so hard you can't handle it." He was everywhere, kissing everywhere, touching everywhere, and I was trembling, aching, my skin tingling, my heart thudding all over again. "You and me, baby, the music we make together is so beautiful. I whisper your name, and it's music. You cry out and you sob as I make you feel so good, and it's poetry."
"God, Canaan..."
"Yeah, honey. That's the music. This is the poetry."
"The way our bodies slap together. The way we move so perfectly." I couldn't help getting caught up in it, and now I was on my back and he was above me, and his lips were everywhere, and his voice bathed my skin, and his words sent fire in my veins, and my own words thrummed with power, with need. "You groan as I fuck you, and it makes me crazy. I ride you, and my body moves above you and you watch me and every move and every sound is art, and poetry."
I was clutching at him, feeling him hard and hot in my hand, and he was wedged between my thighs, and all I knew was the sound o
f his voice and the heat and hardness of his body, the way we fit together like pieces of a puzzle, just like this, his body against mine, filling me, hot and bare.
"Say my name," he murmured.
"Canaan."
"Tell me how this feels."
"So good. Too good."
"You make me crazy, Aerie. You make me lose all control."
"I never have any control around you. It's like you own me, like you...like you just hot-wire something inside me, with a single touch--ohhhh, oh god, Canaan--and I just can't control myself. I need you."
Movement was instinct. I needed this. I gave into it. There just wasn't anything else but this, like this.
We rolled and now Canaan was beneath me and I was riding him, straddling him, my hips rolling wildly, desperately, and he was staring up at me with so much need in his eyes, everything we both knew and both felt boiling just beneath the surface, everything we knew but couldn't say, didn't know how to say.
I lost my breath, staring down at him as I moved above him, taking myself there, needing no extra stimulation, just the way he filled me, just the way his shaft rubbed against me so perfectly, making me lose myself, sobbing, collapsing onto his chest, impaled by him, my hips rising and falling through my climax, and I felt him throbbing and thickening inside me, felt him tense and felt his thrusts stutter and falter.
"Aerie, I--fuck, god, I--I can't--" His voice was ragged, helpless. "You have to stop, I can't--we can't, but I--fuck, fuck, god, Aerie..."
I realized, then, what he was saying: he was bare inside me, and moments from exploding.
I dismounted him, pulling him out of me with a groan of loss, and slid down his body. My cheek was against his warm, hard belly and his hands were in my hair. I took him in my hands, cradling his thick length, still wet and slick from my body. Caressed him gently, tip to root. His hips pivoted, flexing him upward, and I wrapped my lips around the broad head and stroked him, tasting my own essence, tongue swirling as he growled and his hips drove up off the bed, fell, and then lifted again.
"Aerie!" He snarled my name as he exploded, filling my mouth with his tangy, salty, smoky essence.
I took it all, brought him to a cursing, gasping finish, tasting our mixed flavors in my mouth.
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