Over the last eight years, it’d been the only thing that I’d used to get myself off besides my fingers.
Watching it and rolling my finger over my clit had literally been the only freakin’ thing that could do it.
Once I made it into a stall, I ignored every single bit of shit that was going on around me, and pulled my pants down.
I hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so I stood up and bent forward until my arm was against the wall, then placed my head on my arm.
Then I realized that I couldn’t do that, hold my phone, and touch myself.
So I straightened, pulled up the video, then fast forwarded it to where he suggested.
It wasn’t the underneath shot that I always fast forwarded to when I needed a quickie.
Nope, this one was of him, holding the phone out wide, getting the shot of my blissed-out face, and him slowly pushing in and out of me.
My eyes were closed, and my mouth was wide open in a moan.
My video self then said, “Oh, yes. Trouper. Fuck me just like that.”
I immediately turned down the volume, hoping and praying that nobody heard that.
Then, because I liked to share my embarrassment when it was funny, I backed out of the video and sent a text to Troup.
Beckham: So I just blared out ‘oh yes. Trouper. Fuck me just like that.’ I think I might be embarrassed a bit. I hope nobody heard. Also, it’s incredibly awkward to masturbate in a stall with people all around you. Also, side note, I’m not sure how to do this. I can’t get relaxed enough.
Trouper: Meet me outside the bathroom door.
I quickly did my business, zipped and buttoned, then walked out of the stall.
Nobody looked at me like I’d just blasted a sex tape, and I was thankful for that.
After washing my hands, I walked out into the hallway that would lead to the main room and felt my heart flip all over again upon seeing Trouper there leaning against the wall.
He stood up slowly, his lazy sprawl coming to full alert upon seeing me.
His eyes took me in.
I knew what he was seeing.
I had a stain of color high on my cheeks. My nipples were pebbled, and the seam of my jeans were pressed up between my legs tightly, giving me a bit of something to rub against if I walked or moved just right.
My eyes trailed down the length of his body, taking in his jacket, the white tee underneath, and the faded jeans.
My gaze stalled out on his cock, which was very hard, running down the length of his right leg.
I squeezed my thighs even more tightly together, which he saw.
His eyes gleamed like he’d won the lottery, then gestured toward the back of the hall.
I wondered where this led, but I turned and went anyway.
It was extremely long.
So long, in fact, that I decided that it had to run the length of the building.
There were rooms here and there, all with their doors closed, and he led me to the very last one.
“What is this?” I asked when he pulled out a key and opened it.
“I play poker in here on Saturday nights,” he said. “I got a key from the owner.”
“Does your owner know what we’re about to do in there?”
He didn’t answer. Only pushed me inside and closed the door.
I gasped at the sudden movement, and the pitch-black darkness, and froze where I stood.
But before I could do anything more, like ask him to turn on a light, he had me around the waist and was pressing me back against the door.
His hands were then roughly yanking my pants down, exposing my ass and thighs to him.
I moaned.
“Troup,” I whispered.
He bent forward, running the length of his jean-clad sex along my backside.
His hands moved, too, one moving until it was pressing against my mound—thank God I’d waxed just in case I ran into him—and the other moving until he could wrap his hand lightly around my throat.
He directed my face sideways with his hand around my chin, and then he was kissing me.
This wasn’t a normal kiss.
No, this was a Trouper kiss.
An ‘I missed the fucking hell out of you, why did we wait so long to do this again’ kiss.
I didn’t know why we waited so long.
Even if we could’ve met for a half an hour, that would’ve been fine.
I’d never go this long without him ever again.
I just couldn’t.
Not when it came to Trouper Aoki.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his fingers finally spearing through my lips and grazing over my clit.
I jolted against him, my ass pressing back against his cock.
“I’m thinking that I don’t know why the hell I ever put off coming to see you,” I admitted. “My career isn’t that important.”
“I was thinking the same,” he agreed as he slowly slipped one of his thick, long fingers inside.
“Damn, you’re tight,” he said as he slowly pumped that finger.
I licked my lips. “I don’t use a vibrator or anything. I tried once. Thought that anything could be better than nothing, but it felt wrong. Nothing but you will ever feel right.”
He growled against my ear, the lust showing how he felt about my words.
“I like that,” he admitted. “I like that nothing else besides me is in there.”
He pumped his fingers in and out now, and I was building higher and higher.
I knew that this was going to be one hell of an orgasm.
One, because I hadn’t had one in a while. Two, because I hadn’t had one that I haven’t given myself in eight entire years. And three, because Trouper always knew how to pull big, flashy, out-of-this-
world orgasms out of me.
He bent forward and sucked on my neck, and I knew without a doubt that I would have a freakin’ hickey there.
But I didn’t care.
I wanted it there.
I wanted it, I wanted him, and I didn’t care who knew.
Which was bad, because I was supposed to be playing married to his brother in a few days.
But tonight? Tonight was ours.
Something in which he was proving to me moments later when his fingers went three-wide inside of me.
I cried out then, unable to control myself, and burst apart at the seams.
He continued to pump his fingers into me, giving me exactly what I needed, then finally came to a stop once the shudders subsided.
I was breathing like a damn dog, but I felt lighter than I had in a really long time.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, unable to control my mouth.
He laughed against the back of my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down the length of my spine.
He pressed into me tighter, his hard cock grinding against my backside before he pulled away.
Seconds later he was slowly pulling my thong up the backs of my legs and smoothing it expertly in place.
He didn’t even give me a freakin’ wedgie with it, which was impressive because even putting it on my own body I still didn’t manage to do that every time.
My jeans were the next thing to go, and at one point his fingers dragged along my belly as he buttoned my jeans from behind, leaving behind moisture.
My moisture.
From my orgasm.
Things pulsed with need all over again.
But I didn’t make a move to remedy it or anything.
Instead, I turned around, then dropped down to my knees.
He hissed and cursed, knowing exactly what I was about to do.