"I do remember that," he says, leaning closer. I notice he keeps his body just inches from mine, like he's leaning closer just to hear me speak. We both know that it's more than that. This is kind of exciting. Like we have a secret from the world. A secret identity, but sexy. A sexy identity.
"I went into the bathroom to fix my lipstick, and there were people in the stalls."
Peter raises an eyebrow. "That is usually how a bathroom works."
I laugh. "Not like that. There were two people in one stall, and they were having sex. Can you imagine that?"
Peter's eyes go dark. "Yes. I'm imagining that right now."
"I was hoping that you would say that."
"Really?" His smile is slow and seductive, and I feel it shiver through me, making me wetter than I already was.
"Really," I say. Taking my drink, I finish it in one long sip, and lean into him. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. Meet me there. Soon. But not so soon that people notice."
Peter doesn't take his eyes off me as I slip off the bar stool and grab my clutch. I give him a sexy look over my shoulder as I slip into the crowd of people, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze from here. It's hot and hungry and I'm vibrating with the energy he's sending me. God, I want him.
The bathroom muffles the sound of the pounding music, and I check under the stall doors before going into the handicap stall. I hang my bag on the back of the door and lean against the wall, swaying with the muffled beat. I don’t lock the stall. Not until I hear the door open and the sound of footsteps. Peter comes into the stall and I lock it behind him seconds before he has me pressed up against the door and is kissing me.
Everything is sheer heat. It’s not restrained like the kiss we had this morning. We’re both a little drunk, a little sloppy, and both starving for each other. It’s been three days without him touching me and I need him everywhere.
I open my mouth underneath his, and his tongue strokes across mine. I swear I feel it on my clit. I’m shivering and I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. His arms are on my back leaving trails of fire on my skin.
Peter’s lips move to my neck, and I moan. “God.”
“Yes?”
I giggle, the sound echoing around the bathroom. “More, please.” But then I see him, and I laugh harder.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to wipe your mouth. My lipstick is all over you.”
Peter goes still, and his fingers tighten on my skin. I remember what he told me earlier about smudged lipstick, and a sheer wave of desire goes through me. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, voice hoarse.
“I know,” I say, as I’m getting on my knees. My fingers are on his belt and I flip us around so he’s leaning against the door now. I can feel how hard he is through his jeans, and I stroke him, and he makes a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard before—dark and desperate and erotic. And I haven’t even touched his skin yet.
Tugging on his belt, I slip his pants down until his cock springs free, huge and hard, the tip glistening so close. I look up at Peter, and he has his hands spread, grabbing the top of the stall and his knuckles are white. He’s keeping himself still, so still, waiting for my next move. I give him a big smile and press my lips to his skin, purposely sliding my lips across it and leaving a mark. One side and then the other, so there are purple smudges on his shaft.
It’s hotter than I thought it would be. I kiss the tip of his cock too, leaving a purple set of lips, and smile again. “Is this what you imagined?”
All I get is a groan, and I laugh as I take him into my mouth. He’s thick and hard in my mouth and he feels so familiar and so different. Definitely bigger than the last time I did this, but the memories come sliding back, and my body remembers what he likes.
I slowly take more of him and more of him until he’s almost completely in my mouth, because I’ve learned some new tricks too.
"Jesus, Amber," Peter says, voice strained and raw.
I only hum in response, and that gets me another groan. I pull back, sucking my way back to the tip, because I know that he loves that, and I love the feeling of his skin on my lips. But I plunge down again before I release him, setting a rhythm of fast down, slow back, listening to the way Peter gasps as he hits the back of my throat.
I'm great at blowjobs, but I want more. I've never been a good at deep-throating a cock, but I'm just drunk enough that I don't care. The next time I dive down onto his cock, I don't stop. I move up and down, angling myself so that he slips down into my throat, and suddenly Peter's hands are in my hair and he's cursing under his breath as he holds on. His hips are moving, thrusting, but slowly, gently, and I know that he's trying to hold himself back. I release him, hauling in a breath, and I look up. "You can," I say. "You can fuck my mouth."
He pulls me to my feet with a growl and I'm against the door again, his mouth on my skin. "I'm going to do that. But I'm going to do that when I can take my time and enjoy it. And you're going to enjoy it too," he says in a tone that has me dripping. "But I haven't touched you in three days and I'm going to fuck you now. And then I'm going to take you home and fuck you again."
I can't breathe, gasping as he licks down my throat, nipping at my skin and pushes my dress aside so he can touch my breasts, dipping his mouth to taste me and holding me still until my nipples are hard and pebbled under his tongue. I push my hips into him. "I thought you were going to fuck me."
He grins, "I didn't say I couldn't have a little fun." He runs his tongue across my nipple one more time, slowly, his eyes meeting mine, and I shiver. "Turn around," he says, and I do.
I grab onto the top of the stall, and Peter flips up my skirt, running his hands over my ass. I'm not wearing anything but a thong, but I wish I hadn't worn anything at all. His fingers dip inside my panties and I moan because his fingers slip across my entrance and my clit because I'm so wet. There's a crinkle of a condom, and Peter pulls my hips back towards him, so my arms are stretched to keep my balance and he pushes in, barely giving me time to breathe.
"Oh shit," I say, because even though it's only been three days it feels like a lifetime and I feel like it's perfect. I'm fucking Peter Holleman in a bathroom stall and it's the best moment of my life. And he is fucking me, thrusting hard and fast and deep and oh god it feels so good. Slick friction, perfect, pleasure rising, I close my eyes and feel, letting him push me closer to the door until I'm trapped between him and it, and I can't move and I don't want to move, and now I'm that girl saying yes yes yes while the bathroom is echoing with the sounds of sex.
And that's when Peter's hand slips into my panties again, and he circles my clit with his fingers. I'm so wet that he keeps slipping, pressing harder, and every touch takes me higher, makes me wetter. Suddenly my orgasm is rising like a wave out of nowhere, zero-to-sixty and I'm moaning, and I can barely find the words in my brain to tell him that I'm there. "Please," I say. "I'm close."
"Me too."
His other arm wraps around my waist while he teases me, holding me against him while he fucks me, and then suddenly I'm coming, and it feels like the world goes white. I throw my head back, my cry echoing off the walls, and I’m shaking while pleasure blazes through me, bright and perfect and sizzling and gone all too fast. And seconds later Peter's coming too, groaning into my neck. "God, yes, Amber."