by Penny Wylder
It’s free, so I step inside and maneuver in front of the mirror. For a pub bathroom, it’s really not too shabby. It’s clean, well-kept. I cast a glance at the door and decide to get this over with quickly. Luckily, I wore my favorite bra today, mostly as a private mood-booster this morning when I was exhausted and trying to force myself out of bed. It’s red and lacy and lifts my girls to just the right height, giving me a hint of cleavage without going overboard. I pull my dress off, so I’m just in my panties and bra. I snap a photo in the bra first. I hit send on that, then hesitate, glancing at myself in the mirror.
I’ve sent nude pics to guys before, of course. But only guys who I’ve been dating for a few months. Guys I trust. And not even many of those. It’s a lot to ask for a guy I only just met. I’m all too aware of what can happen to girls who aren’t careful, who send nudes to guys who suddenly decide they want to take revenge on those same girls later.
But I’ve known Zayne for years, even if not intimately. And besides, he works in the same place where I live. He’s not going to risk his position to mess with one of his customers, is he?
That makes me pause.
Customer. I am basically his customer. Or his boss, depending on how you look at it. He works for the building, which means he works for the residents, which means he works for me. Is this weird? Is this too much of a business relationship for me to turn it into anything more?
And what if the flirtation goes south? What if this leads nowhere, or worse, leads to a few hookups and a bad split? I’ll have to pass him every single day on my way in and out of the building. Constantly being reminded.
Then again, we’ve come this far. I have photos of his cock on my phone. I’ll be constantly reminded no matter what happens now. I might as well take the leap into the deep end since I’ve already gone and gotten myself wet.
I grin at myself in the mirror, amused by the analogy. My phone buzzes.
That’s not what I asked for, Zayne says, and don’t I know it.
I unclasp my bra and let it slide down my arms. Take a deep breath, face myself in the mirror, and snap another photo. In this one, I’m grinning, just a little, sultry and sexy all at once. And my tits are on full display, nipples hard from the cool air in here—and from the thought of who is about to see this picture.
I hit send. Then I start to lift my bra back on.
That’s when the door opens.
I gasp and drop my phone into the sink, startled. Shit, I forgot to lock it.
But when I see who it is, I freeze in place.
Zayne turns the lock behind him, a wide grin on his face. “I have a policy about open doors,” he says.
“What’s that?” I ask, lifting my chin. Trying desperately to pretend that I’m not standing here topless in a public restroom, staring at one of the hottest guys I’ve ever known.
“I always walk through them if I want what’s on the other side.” With that, he crosses the restroom in a single stride and catches my chin in one hand, wraps his other arm around my waist. Next thing I know, his lips collide with mine, and I forget that I’m half-naked, forget where we are.
I forget everything but Zayne.
His mouth parts, and his tongue invades. I let him claim me, twine my tongue with his while our hands roam across each other’s bodies. I run one hand through his thick blond hair, along the back of his neck, while my other hand traces the hem of his shirt. Slips underneath to press my palm flat against his hot, bare back.
He grips my waist with both hands and crushes me tight against him. I can feel the hard press of his cock against my belly, and when I wriggle against him, he pulses against me, groans faintly into our kiss.
I tilt my head to let him kiss me more deeply, then gasp when he catches my lower lip between his teeth, bites down gently. His hands trail up my waist to my breasts, and trace underneath, above, circling around them. His lips leave mine, and I gasp again in protest, but then I don’t have time to think about it, because he’s kissing his way along my jawline, down the side of my neck. His stubble scratches against my soft skin, but I love it, the sharp contrast between his stubble and his soft mouth, his hot tongue wet against my neck.
He nips at the skin just below my ear, and a shiver runs through my entire body as I crush him tighter against me.
His hands finally reach my nipples, and he rolls them between his forefingers and thumbs. I moan, sinking against him, loving the sensation of his strong, muscular body, so hard against mine. I tug at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against my skin. He pauses to let me pull it off, then he’s right back on me, squeezing my breasts hard enough to make me gasp, his mouth tracing my neck down to my shoulder, my collarbone. I lean back, and he dips down to suck one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened tip, as his other hand continues to work my other breast.
The sink digs into my side as he leans into me. I glance over his shoulder, check the door, realizing someone could walk in at any moment. I should care. But it’s hard to think about that, when Zayne is pressed against me. With his free hand, he traces my spine, down, down, pausing at the small of my back to flatten his palm against my skin, and then he slips his fingers down the back of my panties, the thin fabric giving way easily to his rough touch. He grabs my ass, squeezes hard, and I arch my hips into his, loving the feeling of his hard cock pressed against my belly, his hips digging into mine.
He pushes me backwards, into the sink, and the cool porcelain a sharp contrast to his hot skin.
My clit feels like it’s swollen, a fat weight between my legs that’s begging me to take this farther. To let him take me, fuck me right here over this sink.
But when I glance away from him, remember where we are, my heart sinks a little.
I want to fuck him—desperately. I want to feel his thick cock inside me, and let him take what he wants from me. I want him to fuck me so hard I can’t walk, just the way he promised, and then I want to fuck him again and again until both of us will be sore in the morning but neither of us will care.
But not here. Not like this. Hooking up in the bathroom of a dingy little corner pub…
Zayne leans away from me, and follows my gaze. He must read my mind, because a moment later, he stoops down to scoop his shirt and my dress off the floor, and passes me mine. “As much as I’m enjoying you, Clove, I have to admit I’m not really into restroom hookups.”
I accept my dress with a grateful half-smile. “You read my mind.”
His eyes fix on me, still taking in my body hungrily. “So what’s say we blow this joint?”
“Your place or mine?” I lift an eyebrow.
He grins. “They’re the same address, so that makes it easy.”
My cheeks flush. Of course. I should have figured he’d live in the building too. Damn, this is becoming a worse upon worse idea. And yet, I feel myself bend to pick up my bra, all the while shooting him a flirty grin. “Let’s decide on the walk, then.”
We make it as far as the front door of the pub before we fall into each other’s arms again. The second we step outside and cool night air hits us, it seems to go straight to our heads. He kisses me hard, backs me up against the wall of the building, and I lift one leg to wrap it around his waist as we kiss, burying my hands in his hair.
“I have to admit, this seems like an even worse hookup spot than the restroom,” I gasp when we finally part for air again, both of us breathing hard. His cock digs into my thigh now, and I fight the urge to inch my hips a few inches sideways and grind my clit against his hard length. I’m already wet enough, soaking straight through these thin panties.
“I can’t wait to tear this dress off you,” he murmurs into my neck, his voice low, almost a growl now. “You make me want to take you right here, right now.”
I shiver in anticipation, arching into him. “I want you to take me however you want me,” I whisper.
In response, he catches my hand, pulling me away from the wall and into a brisk walk. As we walk, he
casts a grin down at me. “I can be patient… For now.”
Those words reverberate through me as we cross the blocks to our building. When I was walking here tonight, it felt close. Now, it feels like an eternity. An agonizing wait, when all I want to do is jump Zayne’s bones right here.
We run up against a red light, and he takes advantage of the moment to bury one hand in my hair, kissing me once more, hard and deep. His tongue slides between my lips, and I twine my tongue around his, soaking in his taste, his scent, his heat, the feel of his hot lips on mine, his sharp stubble against my cheek.
“Who’s my naughty girl?” he murmurs against my mouth, and I sink into him, letting him take control.
His hands grip my ass, lift me half off the curb as he crushes me against him, and I tilt my head, part my mouth to let him take what he wants from me.
“You like that?” He squeezes my ass again, harder, and I grin into his kiss, arching against him. “You like it rough, Clove?”
“Fuck yes.” I bite his lower lip for emphasis, and he growls, practically lifting me off the ground and grinding his hips against mine.
“Good. Because I don’t want to go easy on you.”
I lean back far enough to catch his eye, my own alight with desire. “Don’t you dare.”
His grin widens. “Be careful what you wish for, dirty girl.”
In response, I wriggle my ass, which grinds our hips together, his thick cock pinned between us, digging into my belly. He slaps my ass, not hard, but enough to make me startle and jump against him. He grins and leans in to catch my earlobe between his teeth and bite down, just hard enough to make me gasp.
“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you…”
Then, without warning, he pulls away, and it takes me a second to breathe in enough oxygen to remember where we are. What we’re doing. Because we’re still standing on a street corner in the middle of the city, and the light has just changed. I trail after him, across the road, head swimming, cheeks on fire. Normally I hate PDA, but with Zayne, I didn’t even remember we were still in public. When he touches me, everything else fades into the background. I could be anywhere, doing anything, and all I can see, all I can feel or hear or taste or think about, is him.
He’s dangerous, I think. But even worse?
I like it.
We finally reach the building lobby, and Paul buzzes us in. To judge by the way his eyebrows rise and his gaze darts between us, to call him “surprised” would be the understatement of the year.
But Paul is nothing if not the consummate professional. So after a moment of gaping, he simply bows his head. “Zayne. Ms. Walker.”
“Evening, Paul,” Zayne says with a wink as we saunter past him, arms wrapped around each other’s waists.
“Hello,” I manage, still embarrassed, still feeling my cheeks burn white-hot. This is what it will be like if things go sour with Zayne, I remind myself. I’ll have to walk past him every day, have awkward conversations like this one.
“Lovely night out,” Paul is saying as he digs under the counter. “Ms. Walker, you had a package…”
Zayne shoots me a sideways grin. “What was that about you not ordering too much on Amazon?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow, thanks so much, Paul.”
“Of course.” His eyes trail us all the way to the elevator, and I wonder suddenly if there are security cameras in here. If he’s going to see that we push floor 11, where Zayne must live, instead of floor 5, where I live.
“You aren’t going to get in trouble for this, are you?” I ask, suddenly thinking about it. Is there some kind of rule against this? Dating the… customers, I guess?
Zayne only laughs and hits the door close button. “The only trouble we’re getting into tonight is one another,” he says, pinning me against the corner of the elevator with one arm on the glass behind me. I lean against the wall, looking up at him. I’m struck again by the way his sharp blue eyes pierce me, the way his body angles toward me to turn me on, light me up.
One way or another, tonight marks a turning point. Either this is a very, very bad decision—something the nervous rumble in my gut tells me it very well might be—or it’s a different kind of bad decision. The kind that will give me sleepless nights thinking about it for days to come.
Either way, it’s too late now. I’ve already jumped.
The elevator doors ding and slide open. We step out onto Zayne’s floor, the 11th floor, a floor I’ve never been to in all my years living in this building so far. He crosses to his door, unlocks it, and I take a deep breath and fall straight into the deep end.
4
The second the door shuts behind us, Zayne shifts into alpha mode.
“Take off your dress.”
Our eyes lock. I keep mine on him as I slowly reach for the hem of my dress. Catch it and raise it over my shoulders. Normally I’d be shy about undressing for a guy the first time, but something about the white-hot heat in Zayne’s gaze doesn’t allow for it. He wants me—bad. So why feel shy about letting him take what he wants?
I drop the dress beside me, standing in my panties and bra before him.
He paces around me in a slow circle, eyes darting up and down my body as he sizes me up. “Now take off your bra.”
I catch his eye once more, hold it while I reach back to unclasp my bra. I let it slide down my arms, and my belly tightens at the way his gaze drops to my breasts, a hungry glint in his eye. He lifts one eyebrow, allows himself a small, private grin.
“Take off your panties now.”
I lift my chin and let my gaze drop down his body pointedly. “This seems a little one-sided,” I point out.
“Are you disobeying me, naughty girl?”
“What do you plan to do with me if I am?” I ask, my smile widening.
“Mm…” He pauses to let his eyes wander across my body once more, as though debating. “If you are being disobedient, I suppose a spanking would be in order… I’d have to bend you over my knee and give it to you hard.”
My throat goes dry, my pussy tight with anticipation. God I am so fucking wet already. How does he do this to me? I lift my chin, put one hand on my hip. “Hmm. In that case, I am definitely disobeying you,” I reply.
In an instant, he’s beside me, one arm around my shoulders, the other sweeping my legs out from under me. I barely have time to squeal and fling my arms around his neck before he’s dropping onto the couch and bringing me with him, spreading me across his legs. With both hands, he easily flips me over, as if I weigh nothing at all. I suppose to him I probably don’t.
I lean across his knees, bent so my head faces the floor. He positions me so my ass sticks straight up in the air, across his thighs. Then he runs his hand over my cheeks, one at a time, slow and considering.
Shivers of anticipation and pleasure rush down my spine as he takes his time, massaging my ass.
“You’ve been teasing me all night. Acting very dirty. I think it’s time you learn what naughty girls get for that.”
I suck in a sharp breath, tensed. I’ve always loved the idea of being spanked, but I’ve never had the guts to ask a guy to do it before. Somehow, with Zayne, it feels okay. More than okay. It feels safe. “Punish me,” I whisper, and he laughs, a low, throaty sound that resonates deep in my belly.
Without warning, he spanks my ass once, hard. I gasp and jump against him, but with his other hand, he pins me in place, holding me down across his legs.
“Count,” he says, as his hand comes down again in another sharp slap.
“One,” I gasp. The pain is sharp, stinging, but not unpleasant. It makes me even wetter, imagining how else he’ll punish me. What else he wants to make me do.
He spanks me again, and I count it. We keep going like that, until we get to five and both of my ass cheeks are burning, my whole body alight with the sensation. Then, abruptly, he stops, and starts to massage my ass again.
It feels different now, the spanking making my
skin sensitive as hell. His rough, strong hands working across the now-stinging skin makes it twice as sensitive, the pleasure even sharper in contrast to the pain before.
“Are you ready to obey me now?” he murmurs, and I turn my head to catch his eye, savoring the hungry, lustful glint I find there.
It turns me on so fucking much, to see how much he wants me. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Good.” He grins and stands, pulling me to my feet beside him. I don’t expect it so suddenly, and with all the different sensations still rushing through my body, it takes me a second to get steady on my feet. “Now drop those panties.”
I push them over my hips. Let them fall to the floor in a puddle.
He glances down at them, smirking. “Wet for me already, dirty girl?”
“What can I say?” I bat my eyes. “You know how to turn me on.”
He laughs again and spreads his arms wide. “Your turn,” he says, lifting his eyebrows, almost in a challenge. “Undress me.”
I pull his shirt off first. Then I have to pause, because the sight of these perfectly carved muscles up close is distracting as hell. I run my hands across his chest, and dip my head to kiss my way along his collarbone, while I trace my fingers along his abs, then slowly down the V that points directly to his groin.
“And try not to get too distracted along the way,” he adds with a smirk.
I grin back at him and undo the clasp of his jeans. I inch them down his thighs and take a second on the way down to the floor to eye his muscular legs. Damn, even his thighs and calves are toned as hell. He steps out of the jeans, casting them aside with the rest of our clothes, and I stand back up, only his boxers between us now. The cool air in his apartment feels even colder now, and I shiver a little, tightening my legs. My pussy is already so wet, so the chill isn’t helping. I want nothing more than to pull him against me, wrap myself in his warm body. But he’s watching me with that smirk still, his eyelids lowered, expression dangerous. He didn’t say I could touch him, not yet. Not aside from removing his clothes.
So, I hook the band of his boxers with one finger, and slowly, slowly tug those down next.