Dedicating every ounce of my attention to her body, to her pleasure, I grip her thigh and massage it. I hold her so tightly I’m sure she’ll be covered in bruises in the morning. And I’ll make sure they’re not the only thing she has to remember me.
I’ll give her more. I’ll make her scream my name and beg me for more before the night ends.
“Oh, fuck,” she hisses against my chest, running her hands over my abs. “You weren’t lying when you said you worked out.”
I step between her legs, parting them until her dress rides dangerously high. My cock twitches against her stomach, and I kiss her even harder as I let her feel how hard she makes me.
Hazel gasps as she feels my hardness but says nothing, which I take as a good sign. Her hands are still on me, still exploring, and she lets me brush my knuckles up her arm to the curve of her breast.
Fuck, I’m dying to rip that flimsy thing down and take her tits in my mouth. Suck her nipples until they’re perked, aching, swollen. I drool thinking about burying my head between those heavenly thighs of hers, drinking from her arousal. I’d spend all my days drinking from her juices, feeding on her nectar, and filling her belly with my seed.
That. That would be heaven on earth.
Hazel moves, shifts on the stool, telling me her pussy is probably wet, remembering how good I used to make her feel. I want to reach down and check the wetness for myself, but I need to take her farther. I need to make her plead before I take her.
Cradling her head in my hands, I put all my efforts into kissing her again. Claiming her in demanding, slow strokes. Marking her to the point she’ll never want another man.
She runs her nails down my stomach and grunts, a breathy moan escaping her lips. She moves, grazing her sinful body against mine until the head of my cock pokes against the underside of her breasts.
“Fuck yeah,” I grunt against her mouth, sucking at her lips until they’re swollen with abuse. “Keep rubbing yourself against me like that. You’ll make me come in no time.”
She breathes a laugh, strangled and off-pitch. “Right here, where anyone can see us?” She clicks her tongue. “I don’t know. Maybe we should take it... Somewhere more private.”
My heart perks up at her suggestion. Yes yes yes, my head repeats, but I try to act unimpressed. “Where do you suggest?”
She bites the corner of her lip. “The booths in the back. They’re still there.”
Oh. Disappointment barrels through me, as I expected her to ask me to take her home. Maybe it’s too soon. I’ll first take her to the back — where we used to make out — and I’ll make her come so hard she’ll have no other choice than to beg me to take her.
Pressing my lips against hers one last time, I stand to my full height and take her hand. “Let’s find them before I hump you on the dance floor.”
She follows me from the bar, and through the crowd, her fingers netted with mine. The warmth of her skin is familiar, welcoming. But her words haven’t been up until now.
She’s afraid, hurt, wary. At first, I’ll give her some space. But now that I’m back in town, I won’t let her get too far from me. We’re meant to be together, we’ve always been. I feel some misunderstanding has separated us, and I’ll fix it.
She might see it as backsliding, but I’m in it with my whole heart.
HAZEL
Vincent’s fingers interweave with mine, the rough skin of his thumb rubbing up and down along mine. He does it absentmindedly, automatically. And it takes me right back to when we first met. To when his lips first touched mine.
We had been all over one another through high school. Hands on hips and mouths on cheeks. His body, lithe and young, pressed against the curves I had started to develop. Scarves in summer to hide the hickeys he left me. Love letters.
Delightful times that could not come back. Because even if we could pretend everything is all right, we know it isn’t. The past cannot be erased. Cannot be undone.
I should have got another shot of vodka. Or two.
Gazing into his back in front of me, I watch his muscles rippling as Vincent tugs me on further inside the place, through the crowd to the very back. The circular booths are used for quieter concerts than this one. For concerts the type my mother wishes I would go to, with elegant ladies and their rich husbands watching some romantic singer play.
But tonight, it’s being used for something else entirely. Things that would make my mom blush and look away.
The corners are discreet if you don’t make any sudden moves. No one is being obvious, but the place irradiates a sex vibe. Couples of every sexual orientation make out in them, bodies half-hiding one another, ankles draping over thighs, intertwined. In some corners, there are more than two people.
I don’t stare, not blushing but not feeling comfortable either. I’ve never been a person for public sex, preferring the quiet, even if fake, intimacy of someone’s room. Someplace I need not watch my back constantly.
But with Vincent, I’m up for anything.
He pulls me to the last booth, in the darkest corner. No one would see anything we do. And the music’s pumping so loud I’m sure a few moans would go unnoticed. He motions for me to get in before him.
As soon as I’m sat, Vincent slides in next to me. He turns his torso so I’m completely shaded from the outside, though it wouldn’t need much for someone to notice what we’re about to do.
His mouth crushes against mine once more, one of his hands up in my hair, the other around my knee. I press my body against his, slinging my arms around his neck and forcing painful thoughts away.
The one that comes sneaking back is a question — am I going to fuck my ex in public?
That’s... not what I should do. But it’s kind of hot.
I let his kisses dictate the rhythm, his mouth ushering my fears away. He rubs my scalp softly, scraping his nails around in a hypnotizing motion. The thumb on my knee strokes circles on my flesh, and he’s gentle. Vincent’s always been gentle and giving. Generous. With everything he did to me.
The problem with being gentle is that it reminds me of more than I want to. Tonight I don’t want his kindness.
I want his fat cock.
Biting his lower lip between mine, I pull it and pop it free. His eyes light up with lust. “The concert won’t last forever. You don’t need to tease me.”
He flashes me an amused grin. “In a hurry, are we?”
No, not really. There was a time I wanted to spend forever in his arms. “I want to know what you’ve learned these past years.”
He tilts his lips in an apologetic smile. “My lack of novelties will disappoint you. Don’t raise your expectations.”
“Oh?” I arch an eyebrow, pretending nonchalance as his touch rides higher up my thigh. “None of your girlfriends liked to try new things?”
He shakes his head, pecking my lips. “I had no girlfriends.”
Does he mean he only did one-night stands? Jealousy rears its ugly head inside my heart. I had dates, and I had one-night stands too, so I have no right to feel this way. Even so, a tiny flicker of hope and delusion inside me wanted him to... I don’t know. Wait for me? That wouldn’t be fair. I didn’t wait for him. I moved on.