by T Gephart
Tonight had been its own special brand of hell. She strolled in looking like sex on legs, and I had to spend the night hiding the hard on I’d been rocking since she walked in. God, she was beautiful.
While there was no denying Amber was pretty, the girl had yet to take a breath since the minute we’d sat down. No seriously, I was surprised she hadn’t passed the fuck out. She had been running her mouth about a bunch of bullshit I had no interest in. The hipster douche from the wannabe Starbucks that Megs had walked in with was fucking riveted. Awesome, maybe those two should get together seeing as neither of them had even noticed when Megs left to use the bathroom.
My quota with sitting around and pretending like I gave a shit was full. So rather than listen to the mundane world of those two morons, I excused myself to go take a piss. Besides, Megs had looked a weeble-wobble when she’d stood up and I could smell the disaster.
The idea of her going home with Callum fucking pissed me off. He had the nice guy routine down, but I knew nothing about this kid other than he had a Jersey accent and he had a hard-on for coffee. The thought of her sleeping with him— that put me on a whole different level of rage.
The bathroom was tucked away in the back right hand corner, and was found with very little effort. I debated whether or not I go in, or earn myself creeper status by standing outside and waiting for her to come out. The decision was made for me when after a two-minute internal debate she came barreling, bull-in-a-china-shop, through the doorway and slammed right into me. I caught her.
“Hey, Troy Harris, do you need to use the little boy’s room?” Those big beautiful eyes clocked me as her tits pressed against my arm.
I bit back my grin. “Come on, Megs. You know there is nothing little about me.”
“True, Miss Stripper USA is in for a treat tonight,” she slurred sarcastically. She sounded drunk and maybe a little jealous.
“She’s a model not a stripper,” I corrected. Not that I wanted to talk about any girl other the one in front of me.
“Model, stripper—the girl needs a sandwich.” Megs waved her hands animatedly in front of my face. “You might want to spring for a burger or something. It would be kind of awkward if she passed out while you were having sex.”
“Thanks for the tip.” My grin got bigger. “Would you like me to get your date a burger while I’m at it? My forearms are bigger than the dude’s legs. Incidentally, you might want to check your wardrobe when you get home. I don’t think the pants he is wearing are his own.”
“They are called skinny jeans.” Megs rolled her eyes. “They’re supposed to look like that.”
“Skinny jeans? When did real men start wearing girl’s pants?” Horrified! It would be a cold day in hell before I’d be rocking a pair of pants like that. How the man hadn’t spoken three octaves higher had me dumbfounded.
“Oh, you are just jealous they don’t make them in your size.” Megs poked me in the chest, big ass grin on her face.
“You’re right, I’d be lucky to get a fucking toe in a pair. How do those pants not strangle his sack? Oh, I know you probably have bigger balls than he does.” I laughed as I pulled her closer, her body up against mine.
“It’s not the size of his balls I’m interested in.” She smirked as she breathed into my face. “It’s whether or not he can make me come.”
Right, now she had my attention. I lowered my head and whispered in her ear. “Well it’s a good thing you bought that huge dildo early in the week, ’cause it looks like you’re going to need it tonight.”
“Wow, thanks for the great idea.” She turned her face, those beautiful lips almost touching mine. “I can get myself off with the dildo while I blow him.”
Detonation. Something inside of me snapped. Like a fucking avalanche of sexual tension unleashed all at once and there was no stopping it.
My mouth slammed down on hers, my hands grabbing her ass and hauled her onto me. She got with the program, wrapping her legs around my waist and I walked us back into the bathroom she had just walked out of. My tongue got to know every inch of her mouth as I pinned her against the cold tiled wall. My hands busy palming her ass.
She moaned my name as I used the bulge in my pants to rub up against her hungry pussy, her head thrashing from side to side as I worked the length of it up and down between her legs.
I reached out an arm and slammed the bathroom door shut. My hand fumbled for the lock, twisting until I heard the telltale click of the metal sliding into place. If I weren’t so fucking turned on right now, I would have thanked the club management for their progressive stance on public fornication by installing a lock. But the only thing rocking my thoughts was touching every part of the woman whose tongue was currently in my mouth.
“Megs.” I pulled my mouth away; my hand brushing the hair out of her eyes. “We’re in a whole world of trouble right now.”
“Oh God, stop talking and touch me. That feels so good.” Megs’s hands clawed at my back and pulled me closer toward her.
“You going home with him tonight? You and Callum, is this a thing?” This shit wouldn’t go down if she was with him. No fucking way. She moaned against me trying to get the friction she needed. “Megs, I need to know.”
“No, he’s just a guy. Coffee shop. Needed a date.” Her mouth on me making her words come out jumbled. “Amber?”
“You’re not her type, sweetheart, and neither am I.”
Green light. Her eyes widened as my hands moved to her inner thigh and pulled aside her panties. She was soaking wet, the tips of my fingers coated as I circled her opening.
“Yeah, is that what you want? You want me to make you feel good?” The pads of my two fingers stroked her while I thumbed her clit.
“Yes.” She circled her hips in rhythm with my hand. “It’s been two weeks and I need to come so fucking bad.”
Fuck, I wanted her. I wanted her to yell my name so loudly that even with the fucking music blaring in the club they’d hear her. I wanted to make her pant and pulse and come so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk straight in the morning. She had me by the balls and I didn’t give a fuck, my sole mission was to give her what she was begging me for.
“Megs, you have a dirty little mouth when you’re horny.” My hands palmed her tits, pinching her nipples through the material of her dress. “You want me to make you come with my hand?” My thumb got cozy with the opening of her pussy.
“No, Troy.” She leveled me with a stare and looked me dead in the eye. “I want your cock. Fuck me.”
I’d lost the ability to think.
I ripped the tiny black thong from her body and tossed what was left of it on the floor. It had no business covering what I wanted. Her legs unfurled from around my waist, sliding them down so she could stand. Not that she was going to be able to do that for long if I had my way. Her hands went straight for my belt. Fuck. We were going to do this.
Fingers wrestled with my buckle and my zipper, as my thumb rubbed circles around her clit. I was so hard, it fucking hurt. My objective, get suited up and inside of her. Like five minutes ago.
She pushed down my jeans and boxers below my hips. My dick springing free was her reward. Her hands palmed my shaft, giving me a stroke or two while I plunged two fingers inside of her.
“Yes.” She writhed against the wall as I continued to play, her head flailing from side to side as I slid my fingers in and out.
It killed me to stop touching her, my cock punched out in protest to let me know he wasn’t happy either. From the minute I’d seen her walk in, this is exactly what I wanted to be doing. Sadly the condom wasn’t going to magically fly out of my pocket and land on my dick all by itself. And not having sex with her was not an option.
“No, don’t stop.” She grabbed my wrist as I moved my hand. Trust me, I didn’t want to either.
“I need to get a condom on, Megs. Give me a second.”
“Hurry, Troy. I need you in me.”
I yanked the condom from my back pocket, r
ipping open the packet with my teeth. The packaging was tossed to the floor as I fought with Megs’s hands, needing her to let go of my cock long enough to slide the latex down my shaft.
As soon as I was suited up, her hands went straight back to my dick, gripping me so tight it bordered on pain. “Fuck,” I hissed, as she continued to jerk me off. It felt freaking amazing but there was no way this was going to end in a hand job.
My mouth was once again on hers as I pried her fingers from around my cock and captured her hands. She protested, bucking against me as I raised them above her head. My lips moved to her neck as I sucked against her skin. Knowing it would probably leave a mark made me even harder.
I grabbed her wrists with my hand and held them steady against the wall. “I need to be in you.” My other hand rubbed the head of my cock against the opening of her pussy. She arched her back to get closer and making me feel like king of the fucking world, she was just as desperate for this as I was.
She wrestled her hands out of my hold and gripped my ass, pulling me toward her. I met her half way and slid into her in one, swift stroke.
“Megs.” It was halfway between a moan and a prayer. She felt so tight and wet that I had to stop for a minute and just let myself feel it. My lips panted against her neck. This girl was going to be the death of me.
Not one to sit around and wait, Megs starting moving. Restricted by my body caging her up against the wall, she swiveled her hips from side to side, which created some crazy-good twisting sensation. It was like be jerked off—by her fucking pussy. My mind almost exploded.
I grabbed her legs and locked them around my hips, needing to get in deeper. She gasped as I gave her everything I had. I pulled out slow before sliding back in fast, my finger marks indented on her ass. She fought against me each time, not wanting me to pull out.
“Holy Shit.” Megs scrunched her eyes tight as I plunged into her, her pussy clamping around my dick.
Yep, playtime was over. I slammed into her deeper and faster, her hips meeting my every thrust. It was out-of-control crazy and unrestrained, pumping into her while I kissed her hard. God, nothing should feel this good and be legal. I wanted every part of her.
“Don’t stop. I’m so close,” she mumbled against my lips.
“You going to come for me, Megs? I want to feel it.”
“Troy.”
One word. That was all she said.
It was more a muffled scream than a word, but it was clear she had said my name— and then I felt it. Her body tightened before it finally let go, and she shook in my arms as I rode out the rest of her orgasm. I’d been holding back, wanting to see her face when she’d finally come, not allowing myself to finish. That look alone tipped me over the edge. It was like chasing down a runaway train as I continued to pump, my load shooting deep as I panted against her throat.
We didn’t move. Her legs still pinned around me with her face buried against my shoulder, both of us breathing hard. She didn’t say a word, which made me edgy. Had me wondering if she was going to give me the we-shouldn’t-have-done this speech. But I couldn’t make myself regret it, being with her.
She tilted her head toward me and whispered. “Fuck.”
Yep, that was pretty much an accurate description of it.
I released her legs and she slowly lowered them to the floor. Her body was still unsteady as she tried to smooth out her messed up hair. Her make-up? I was wearing more of her lipstick than she was, but she still looked like a knockout. Keeping away from her had been impossible, and what’s worse was now I didn’t want to. Not just to get my rocks off, this girl was different. Things were different.
“I told you we were in a world of trouble.”
What the hell had I done? Who has sex in a bathroom with one guy while on a date with someone else? I was some kind of freak. What’s worse is that if given the same chance, I would do it all over again. All that rhetoric about having wisdom in hindsight is bullshit. I take your hindsight and raise you one mind-blowing orgasm with the guy I’m obsessed with. Obsession, that’s what it was.
That’s how the whole mess started. He was the unattainable guy who looked like a sex God. He was famous. It would be fun. One time wouldn’t hurt anyone. Ok, so maybe just a few more times, but I could stop at any time I wanted. What does that sound like to you? Yep, I was going to need a twelve-step program and a sponsor.
Troy and I had fucked each other senseless while the two people each of us walked in with sat maybe twenty feet away in blissful oblivion, awaiting our return. Sure, technically neither of us was dating either of them but still, that was a very slippery slope. I mean, who does that? It’s like I couldn’t control myself— not at all.
Was it a mistake? That was a massive trick question. My brain was telling me yes, but something that felt that good could never be a mistake. Herein lies the biggest problem. Not the fact I had crazy, bathroom sex with Troy while I was supposed to be on a date with someone else i.e. the issue that I should see as the problem, but that we couldn’t seem to be able to be alone together and not end up naked.
How is that healthy? It’s certainly not a relationship. We weren’t dating, we were just fucking and while at the start of this little arrangement that had been fine, it didn’t sit well with me anymore. No, I didn’t think I was a whore or a pervert. Highly sexed with compulsion issues? Okay, so no one was perfect.
“Hey, we should get back.” I straightened my dress and picked up my shredded panties. They weren’t going to be much use to me so I tossed them in the trash and made the conscious effort to remember I was now sans underwear. Suddenly I had a new found affinity toward Britney Spears.
Troy pulled off his condom and tossed it the trashcan, ironically where it would lay with my discarded G-string, a tribute to our good time. “Are you okay?” He looked at me, concerned— probably wondering if I was going to start crying hysterically or insist he declare his intentions for me.
It was his lucky day, because not only did he just blow his load, he wasn’t going to be getting any emotional drama from me. Nope, not doing it. Not after I had told him shit wouldn’t get complicated, and I was capable of sex without emotion. There was no denying things had changed. Or at least they had for me. This wasn’t just about him being sexy and us having a good time, this was about the way he made me feel. Emotions—that dirty word—were most definitely involved.
“Megs, do you want to talk about what just happened?” Troy grabbed some paper towel and handed it to me before taking care of himself.
The clean up —the stark realism of the situation. It’s not like we could walk out back into the club with goo everywhere. I prayed no one would be murdered in the bathroom in the near future and it got swabbed for DNA.
“We had sex. We seem to do that a lot when were alone,” I responded drily as I turned on the faucet and washed my hands. Act normal I told myself and for God’s sake keep it together.
“Yeah, so…” Troy cocked his eyebrow looking for me to continue.
“So… we should probably try harder not to?” It was the best I could offer. What else could we do? Short of locking up my vagina, there wasn’t a lot it seemed. One of us was the weakest link and I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t me.
“Yeah, probably.” He nodded as he took his turn at the sink. It was all so civilized.
“Good, we agree. That was the last time.” The paper towel I was using went sailing into the trash. I got the distinctive feeling of déjà vu. We’ve been here before and I had been just as convincing, hopefully this time, it would stick.
“Okay.” Troy dried his hand. The zipping of his pants and adjusting of his T-shirt happened soon after. “So we’re good then?” He looked skeptical, liked he expected more. Maybe he honestly did believe I was going to cry.
“Yep, we’re perfectly fine.” I was amazed at how easy the lie passed through my lips.
We did our best to tidy ourselves up so we didn’t look like we just had sex, but there was only so much
I could do with a compact and a lipstick. I already had a massive hickey developing on my neck, the thrill of explaining that to friends and co-workers was something I hoped to avoid.
Troy walked out first and then I followed after the obligatory five minutes. It was ridiculous really, the cloak and dagger routine. No one in the club gave us so much as a secondary glance and the only people who may have shown some concern were our dates, but even they didn’t seem to wise up.
When I had gotten back to our little awesome foursome, Callum and Amber were laughing hysterically about some joke they had shared. The two of them discovered they both had so much in common, how nice for them. Troy looked bored as they generously got me up to speed on everything in the conversation I had missed. They needn’t have bothered, it was plainly obvious Troy and I had been replaced.
Sitting across from Troy after just having had him inside of me was weird. There was no getting around that. Oh I gave it my best shot, playing it off like I had sex in club bathrooms all the time, and this was no big deal, but the truth remained—it was a big deal. He gave me a few concerned looks from time to time, but each time I met his eye I gave him my best it’s-all-good smile and calculated when would be a good time to make my exit.
Another drink later and I had reached a respectable arbitrary length of time for me to leave. I did the whole I-have-work-in-the-morning excuse and said my goodbyes. Troy offered to call TJ for me but I declined. I’d already received one ride courtesy of Troy Harris that evening. I didn’t need another.
Callum walked me outside so I could hail a cab. His hug goodbye warm but noticeably less familiar than when we’d walked it and just like that— I’d been friend-zoned.