Chapter 25 #2
Rorie moans, lip caught between her teeth, her body moving on its own, rubbing, finding the friction she so desperately wants.
She’s scorching hot, and when I curl my fingers just right, I swear her temperature rises with each grind. The way she makes tiny mewl sounds has me clenching my jaw to keep from losing it right there.
With two fingers driving deep, my thumb drags up to her slick and swollen clit. I knead, and tease, and I really want to suck on that tiny little nub. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to make her sweet, hot pussy my next meal.
“Nolan,” she cries out, jerking beneath me.
“That’s it, Rorie.” My voice is dark. “Scream my name. Let everyone hear who’s making you feel so good.”
Her gaze drops to watch my fingers work inside her. I’m buried to the end, my thumb still circling her clit.
“You love watching me fuck your pussy with my fingers—watching what I do to you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
Her thighs tremble, and my cock throbs. With my wrist twisting, slow and filthy, I let her ride every inch of pressure I give her.
Her slick coats my hand, sticky and warm, and I want to feel her crumble with my fingers so far inside her she’ll never forget the shape of my hands, or the way I made her collapse one thrust, one breath, one shudder at a time.
I crash into her with a kiss so punishing it’s sure to leave a mark. Her fingers tangle in my hair as my tongue sweeps against hers. She moans again—and Jesus, it’s the sexiest thing ever.
My lips brush along the curve of her throat, chasing the wild thrum of her pulse like it’s calling me home. She tastes like wildfire and surrender, and when her hips roll again, searching, my spine lights up.
Her breath stutters. And for one suspended moment, she freezes like she’s realizing what we’ve done, what we’re doing.
But then she exhales a shattered moan, her breaths short and choppy as her pussy clenches around me.
And fuck, she’s so goddamn tight. Rorie Adams, dripping wet and coming on my fingers, is the most glorious thing I’ve ever felt.
Once her breathing slows, I ease out carefully, dragging the tips of my fingers over her sensitive area, but she doesn’t retreat.
She climbs.
Rorie’s legs wrap around my waist, tight and hungry, her pussy pressing into the thick ridge of my cock through my pants. She moves again, chasing her high.
Nothing separates us but thin fabric, and it’s soaked through now. Every press, every roll of her hips sends lightning through my system. I’m strung so tight I’m two breaths from losing it completely.
“That’s it, Rorie,” I growl against her neck, my voice raw and wrecked. “Take what you need. Take all of it.”
A whimper from her is barely audible, but it shreds me. She’s so responsive, grinding harder now—rougher, desperate—like she can’t get close enough.
Her head tips back, exposing more of her neck. I don’t hesitate. I bury my face there, licking and sucking at her skin while her body rides mine with frantic rhythm.
“Nolan,” she gasps. It’s a broken sound. A plea. And my name has never sounded like that before.
Snarling under my breath, I yank her harder against me. “You feel that?” I press up into her so every brutal inch shows her how hard she makes me. “Feel what you’re doing to me?”
She nods—frantic.
“Say it.”
Her lips falter. And then her eyes lock on mine, wide and brimming with heat. Her voice is a whisper that guts me: “I feel you, Nolan. It’s so fucking good.”
That’s the breaking point. That’s the moment.
I’m going to come just like this, her writhing against me, moaning for me, melting into every brutal kiss I press into her jaw.
I want her to spike so high she forgets how to breathe. I want her to come undone just from the friction between us. I want her aching from this tomorrow. And I want her crawling back for more.
I tighten my grip, drag my lips along the shell of her ear, and whisper, “Don’t stop, baby. Come again for me. Show me how fucking desperate you are for it.”
And god, she does.
She moves harder, faster, hips stuttering as she chases the edge, body unlacing with each desperate grind. Her moans grow more fractured, she’s barely holding herself together. Every tremble, every twitch of muscle, every fractured breath vibrates against my skin.
She’s so damn close.
“Do it right here, baby. Come on me. Make more of a mess.”
She explodes, body locking up tight, then breaking wide open. Rorie’s falling over the edge once again and it’s the sweetest fucking sound.
As her release rips through her, Rorie’s thighs clench around me, and a cry punches from her throat.
I watch every second of it. Her lips parting, her eyes fluttering shut, her body going slack for one beat—only one—before she sucks in a breath. She just fell apart in my hands, and on my cock, and she’s realizing there’s no putting herself back together the same way.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She blinks up at me, dazed, chest still heaving.
Reaching up, I drag my thumb reverently across her bottom lip. Her eyes are still heavy-lidded, her body limp from the aftershocks, and god, she’s never looked more beautiful.
I press my forehead to hers, letting us breathe in the same stolen, shaky air. “You okay?”
She nods.
I let a crooked smile pull at my lips. “You just dry humped me in the bathroom of a bar.”
Her laugh is quiet, raspy. “You started it by finger fucking me.”
My grin deepens. “And I’m not even close to being finished with you.”
But that’s when the bathroom door creaks open behind us.
“What the actual fuck,” Maya’s voice rings out like a grenade.
“Maya.” Rorie jolts, nearly knocking back into the sink.
I stiffen, hands still on her hips, body angled like I’m protecting a crime scene, which, honestly, I might be.
Maya stands frozen just inside the door, eyes wide, jaw somewhere near the tile floor.
“Well,” she says, stepping inside, “I came in here to tell you we’ve got to get Jeremy home. He’s past his three too many phase, and Dr. Fiddlestorm the Third is about to make an appearance. However, this is an interesting development.”
Rorie squeezes her eyes shut like she’s wishing for a trapdoor to open beneath her. “I was just—”
“Fucking in a public bathroom?” Maya helpfully supplies. “Yeah. No shit. But hey—your goal tonight was to get off, so… Mission. Accomplished.”
“We weren’t fucking,” Rorie fires back.
I step back a fraction, my palms reluctantly sliding from her skin. The moment evaporates, replaced by fluorescent lighting and the awkward silence of witnesses.
Maya folds her arms, fixing me with a look. “Really? The bathroom?”
I rake a hand down my face, still breathless, still painfully aware of my raging hard on. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, come on. It’s exactly what it looks like.” Maya lifts a brow, then gestures between us. “And honestly? Good for you. But this?” She points to the walls, then zeroes in on me. “You can do better. She’s worth more.”
I nod once, voice rough. “I know.”
She jerks her chin toward the door. “Then go. Before you start eyeing the mop closet for round two.”
Three, actually.
“Maya,” Rorie groans, tugging her dress down with all the grace of someone reentering the atmosphere.
“What?” Maya shrugs. “If you’re gonna have hot enemy sex, at least do it somewhere that doesn’t smell like bleach and broken dreams.”
For the first time, Rorie almost laughs. I glance at her as I adjust my sleeves, something electric passing between us.
“Uh–sorry, I’ll see you later,” she says, hesitant.
Her voice makes my pulse thrum harder.
I press a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, Adams.” Then I move toward the door, acknowledging Maya on the out.
It takes all of two seconds after the door swings shut before I hear, “HOLY fucking shit, Rorie! The whole bar heard you in here.”
I smile.
And leave them to it.