Chapter 44 #2
He traces my fingers one by one, fingertips drawing invisible lines on my skin. Lines that spell words like Connor and Connor and Connor.
The people around us are so loud and happy, but they hardly exist. They’re here, but not here. They’re here, but they’re on a different wavelength.
Under the table, Connor turns my hand, palm up, and runs a finger along my lifeline.
It starts out as a tingling tease, but he increases the pressure as he moves.
There’s a pressure point in my palm I wasn’t aware of before.
I’ve gone lame on one side of my body, so I’m hyperaware of it now.
He squeezes the flesh between my thumb and forefinger hard.
Almost hard enough to hurt, but not quite.
Just hard enough to loosen my tongue.
“I’m craving,” I whisper into his ear. “Con, I’m craving you. Badly.”
His eyes track lazily down my face, stuttering at my lips, and then he flicks them around the table to check if anyone’s looking at us. They aren’t. They’re in their own worlds, the same way we’re in ours.
He jerks his head at the sign for the restroom and slides out of the booth without looking back to see if I’m following.
I give him a four-second lead and give chase as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself.
It’s bright in the men’s restroom. Halogen light glints off a large mirror and white tile, blinding me. Connor stands in the far cubicle, one leg bent at the knee, and a hand hooked over the top of the door, holding it open for me.
My dick lurches, and I all but teleport to him, sliding my arms around his waist as he locks the door. I push him against the wall and open his mouth with my tongue. My kiss is hard and demanding. Harder and more demanding than any kiss I’ve given him in the past.
He likes it. I can tell by the way his hips buck against mine.
My hands are all over his body, his hips, his back, his ass.
His ass. His ass. His ass.
I have a cheek in each hand, and I can’t get enough.
A soft caress isn’t enough. Nor is a hard one.
I unbuckle his belt roughly, a cheek still in one hand, and shove my free hand in the back of his pants.
His waistband is loose enough to allow it, but not comfortably so.
It’s a struggle, but one I’ll happily navigate. A fight I’d rather die for than lose.
His silky skin on my palm makes me groan.
Meaty flesh in my grasp makes blood rush to my cock.
My fingers find their way to his crack, unable to get as deep as they need to because of his waistband.
My mind is slow, but I know what I want, and there’s no way I’m going in dry, so I pull out and put two fingers in my mouth.
Licking and spitting on them to get them as wet as possible before diving into Connor’s pants again.
He smirks and unbuttons and unzips his jeans in a hurry as I do it.
My hand slides down the back of his pants again, getting where I want is easier now.
I take hold of his jaw, keeping him still, making him look into my eyes as I hook a finger inside him. He’s tight and hot, a ring of pressure so perfect that a pained whimper seeps out of me. It makes him whimper too. He bites his bottom lip to suffocate the sound, but keeps his eyes on me.
“I crave you,” I say again, and holy shit, do I mean it.
“I crave you too.” His voice is breathy and soft, helpless, the same way I’m helpless. As always, his vulnerability strips away my defenses.
“I don’t know if it’s normal to crave someone the way I crave you, Con.”
“I don’t know either. But I can’t help it.” He opens his mouth and offers me his tongue. I take it into my mouth and suck gently three or four times before releasing it. “And I don’t want it to stop.”
There’s a loud, sudden thud. A creak of a door and heavy footsteps padding a few yards from us. Connor’s eyes fly open and his ass clenches around my finger. I don’t move or withdraw it. I keep it right where it is, but I raise my other hand and place a single finger over his lips.
He nods and breathes through his nose to try and slow his breathing. We stand like that, frozen. Hearts slamming, as a zipper that isn’t Connor’s or mine opens.
Whoever is in the room with us goes about his business without a care in the world, humming something tuneless as he takes a piss. He has no idea that we’re here. That Connor’s jeans are undone. Or that my finger is inside him.
Because Connor has turned me into a crazy person, instead of keeping still and not doing anything that could get us caught, I slide my finger a little deeper into his ass and then out again.
Deeper again and a little harder.
His eyes go vacant and he expels a soft, ragged breath on my face.
Rubber soles squeak on floor tile. A faucet runs and is switched off. The door opens and closes, and just like that, we’re alone again.
“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes alight with life and good things and sex. “That was close.”
“I know.” I laugh. “Too close. Let’s get the fuck out of here before we get arrested.”
He nods and sags against me slightly, taking a little more of my finger in his ass before pushing himself onto the balls of his feet and carefully unimpaling himself.
We stand side by side at the sinks, washing our hands, and our eyes meet in the mirror. There’s a different kind of heat swimming in my veins tonight. One that’s old and familiar. One that wants what it wants.
“Are you going to bend for me when we get home?” I ask his reflection.
He draws a breath in that way I’m beginning to love. A sexy, jerky way that makes my dick throb.
His chin raises, showing me a sultry view of his throat, and drops decisively.