But then she swivels her pelvis, her velvet walls smoothing and tugging at my naked wood like nothing I’ve ever felt before. “Hell yeah I do. And I can.” Her words should sound bold, cocky, but she whispers them like a revelation — to herself.
“Yeah, you can feel good,” I say, leaning over her back to murmur in her ear. “Let me help you.”
Emmy flexes back against me. “Then do it.” The challenge returns to her voice. “Make me feel so damn good that I’m never the same.”
The swivel stops. She leans forward, away from me. I bark in dismay, but before I can fill her up with another hard thrust, she’s the one who barrels back at me, taking every inch of me until I’m buried to the hilt. My tip finds new depths within her, nudging up against a soft something, and she goes off like a firework.
Again out of seemingly nowhere, Emmy is mewling and sobbing the pleasure of her climax. Her hips buck against mine, cavern pulsing and clenching around my shaft, trying to milk me dry.
I’m done with holding back, done with words, done with wondering. I give myself over to the demands of my hungry cock, spearing her again and again without reservation. My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips, pulling her back over me even as I thrust my hips and plunge deep over and over.
Emmy pushes back against the wall with her hands, trapezoids flexing, needing more of me, needing everything I offer. She arches her low back, helping me to find the place where her orgasms are born. In quick succession, her walls clamp around me until she unfurls, and then she begins to close on me once more.
I can feel my own climax approaching when headlights sweep through the alley. A car is coming, I realize, and freeze. Emmy swivels her head at my motionlessness, and we both hear the vehicle approach.
We remain in darkness — for now. But if the car comes as far down the alley as we are, there’s no place for us to hide. We’ll be caught with our pants down.
I turn back to Emmy, cursing whatever driver is heading our way, ready to withdraw from her.
“No,” she says, voice ragged, hands reaching for me, holding me where I am.
I could tear away, listening to my good sense.
But this woman needs me — and she’s willing to risk public indecency to get what she wants.
Which only makes me that much more unable to resist her.
Praying that the car parks further up the alley, I pummel Emmy with my cock.
“Yes,” she urges me, breath ragged. “God, you feel so good.”
Every sense is heightened. I’m aware in equal parts of the refreshing cool of the night on my skin and the fire I’m stoking in Emmy’s insides and the sound of the car rolling toward us.
My hips fly back and forth and I’m a man lost to his desire.
And then there comes the sound of the car’s engine being cut, and a single set of footprints in the alley — fading, not coming closer.
My muscles go limp with relief. In contrast, my dick is so damn hard that it’s almost painful — almost. I grit my teeth and give her everything I have, both of us crying out without fear of being heard even though we’re still very much in public.
Another orgasm takes hold of Emmy and that starts a chain reaction that races down my dick and into my testicles. My balls tighten and I hold on to Emmy’s hips for dear life as my climax comes raging out of me. I thrust harder than ever into her wetness, but now I’m not in charge of my movement. Instinct has taken over as I spurt ropey cum into the woman shattering around me, head thrown back to the sky, wishing this moment could last forever.
Emmy
I drive through the quiet streets of Shotgun faster than I should, the lights of the buildings I’m passing glaring and over-bright on my eyes.
My heart is racing faster than I’m speeding through the city because what the fuck.
What just happened?
I thought I knew who I was, what I wanted — and then in mere hours I go from normal life, doing just fine, thank you very much, to being ass-up in an alley, having the fuck of a lifetime.
And seriously, those orgasms — I’ve never had so many in a single session, or with such intensity. I’m lucky to eke out one per round, either with a partner or solo.
Of course, most of them have been solo. Because I don’t know that I can put myself into a relationship with someone knowing how so many of them turn out.
And then along comes Oliver Lewis with his salt and pepper hair begging to be touched and his warm gray eyes, and I drop all my principles — and my pants.
Then went on to have the best sexual encounter of my life.
I press the gas pedal harder. I’d already texted Kate, figuring that she was the most likely to still be awake at this hour, letting her know I’m on my way.
After I’d practically fled the scene of my public copulation with Oliver.
I groan just thinking about it. I’d excused myself to go to the bathroom to freshen up — cringe — then had hightailed it out of there when I thought he wasn’t looking — double cringe.
After all my training as a therapist, all my self-examination and training, I’ve still ended up a cliché. I’m a danger to my own heart and others, and I can’t let this happen again.
Except that I want to.
With Oliver.
I want him to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last before I go to sleep at night. I want his eyes on me every damn day, and I want to cherish him and play with him and make love to him and —
My own thoughts bring me up short.
Make love to him. That’s what I’d just thought.
Things are even worse than I realized. I’m not just falling into infatuation with a man I’ve known for hours.
I’m fucking falling in love.
Which cannot happen. Because life doesn’t work like that. This is not some storybook romance where somehow, against all odds, strangers conjure a happily ever after out of thin air.
This is the real world, and it’s where I live. I won’t allow hormones and wishful thinking to lure me to believe in a happy ending that’s not in the cards.
I careen into the long driveway that leads to the cozy above-garage loft Kate shares with her boyfriend, Harry, near Shotgun College. Throwing myself out of the car, I stumble up the narrow stairs to their front door, raising my hand to bang the crap out of it.
Like Oliver banged the crap out of me, so good that the memory makes my toes curl in pleasure even though I know I’m better off putting tonight out of my mind for good.
Before my knuckles can land on the wooden door, it swings inward, revealing my friend.
“Are you okay?” Kate says, ushering me inside. “Your text . . . I haven’t been able to sit down since I got it. What is going on?”
Slivers of crystalline guilt spear me from the inside and I wince. I’m not the one who’s usually in need of a late-night rescue. I’m the one who knows better than to get herself into messes she can already see the end result of. And now this evening’s carelessness has already hurt another person — Kate.
“I’m fine —“ I begin, wanting to ease her worry, but she cuts me off with a firm shake of her head.
“If you were fine you wouldn’t be here. Stop trying to save my feelings — I’m your friend and I want to be here for you. So please let me.”