45. “Everytime We Touch” - Cascada
“Everytime We Touch” - Cascada
Walker
Heath goes into the bathroom first. I’m supposed to stay outside with my trunk for a full minute before following him inside. I’m not sure I even make it thirty seconds before I barge through the door and lean my suitcase against the wall.
He shakes his head with incredulity, but his mouth lifts in a smile.
“Is it empty?” I whisper. It’s a small bathroom, but it still has a handful of cubicles.
“For now.” He yanks me inside one of them and closes the door behind us.
Now that we’re here, I suddenly feel nervous. “What if we get caught?”
“We won’t if you’re quiet.” He grabs me and clamps his mouth down over mine. I groan and reach for his hair. He pushes me against the cubicle wall. The coolness of the metal seeps through my clothes.
Heath’s hands stray downward until they reach the bottom of my skirt. I couldn’t have chosen a better outfit for this if I tried. The skirt is short and pleated, and there are—
“No fucking tights this time.” He bites my lip gently as his hands move to the sensitive skin of my upper thighs.
I gasp as his warm palm grazes my panties.
I frantically try to remember which pair I put on this morning but decide it doesn’t matter, because he’s even seen me in the hospital-appointed pair I wore after I had my appendix removed.
His fingers toy with the seam of my underwear like they’re hesitating at the door. “Heath,” I moan, and press against him.
He grins and drags both fingers against me. “Your panties are soaked.”
“No shit.” I lean my head back against the wall as he torments me with his hand. My eyes fall closed, and I shudder as he skirts his fingers back and forth between my mound and panties.
The distinctive sound of the door opening cuts through everything. Heath clamps his free hand over my mouth before I can make an audible sound. My eyes grow wide as it becomes obvious that someone has entered the cubicle next to ours.
Heath squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t remove his hand from my mouth. His mouth quirks in silent laughter. Inside my panties, his hand has stopped moving, but he opens his eyes and starts sliding his fingers back and forth again.
I try to shake my head, but he’s holding it fast against the wall. He ignores my frantic eyes, taking special pleasure in my discomfort. He slips one finger between my folds, then grins when my eyes roll back in my head.
The person beside us takes a long time finishing up. Meanwhile, Heath takes an equally long time working me over. He has yet to remove his hand from my mouth, not trusting that I am even less willing to give us away than he is.
His fingers both drive into me with enough force that I would cry out if I could. Now I have to stifle the noise, because even with his hand over me, I don’t trust the sound not to escape .
The toilet next door flushes, and I mentally encourage the person to quickly wash their hands.
The tap runs in the sink, followed by the obnoxious hand dryer.
I roll my eyes as the seconds tick by. Heath smiles widely, pulls his hand away, and kisses me.
I meet his mouth with a vengeance, now that I can do something with the burning inside of me.
As soon as the door whooshes shut behind our intruder, my legs weaken.
Finally. Heath pulls back his mouth and hand, and I whimper at the loss of contact.
Squatting, he drags my panties down my legs and helps me step out of them.
Rather than leave them on the floor, he tucks them into the pocket of his shorts. My groin grows hot.
He yanks me away from the wall and spins me around. “Put your hands on the back of the tank.”
I have to straddle the toilet to do so, but I comply.
The porcelain is cold beneath my hands, a sharp contrast to the heat blazing a trail from my thighs to my head.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper greets my ears, followed by the rip of foil.
I peer over my shoulder as he rolls on the condom.
Moisture forms in my crotch, and my hips buck backward of their own volition.
“Easy.” He steadies me. In one quick motion, he flips my skirt up and over my back. He takes the same two fingers as before and slides them through my drenched folds, over and over. I bite down on my lip, not wanting to cry out but needing to so badly.
A sharp gasp flies from my mouth as he thrusts them inside me, propelling me forward. I hold on to the toilet tank as he does it again. And again. And again.
“You like being fucked in different ways, don’t you?” His voice is sand in my swimsuit, stinging wind on my cheek, biting cold against my skin. I arch my neck, longing for his touch. He drives his fingers in even further, curling them and making me tighten around him.
“Heath.” It’s no more than a whimper, because that’s all I’m capable of right now.
As slow as molasses, he draws his fingers out of me, only to replace them with his cock. Stars flash at the edges of my vision as he inserts his tip inside me. I grind against him, eager for him to fill me, but he doesn’t capitulate.
He grips my hips with both hands, and I mimic the gesture with the lid of the toilet tank. My legs are splayed wide to accommodate both the commode and Heath. I lean my cheek against the cold porcelain to relieve some of the heat camping out in my face.
He uses my hips as leverage and pushes inside. I jerk my head backward, and a cry escapes as he fills me to the breaking point. He pulls back fractionally, then drives home again. I tilt my hips higher and push them backward. He hisses through his teeth as he finds a new angle.
His right hand slides from my hip bone to my pussy, now a quivering mess. Using his fingers, he renews his torture of my clit, pressing it, stroking it, pinching it. I cry out as my insides coil around him, so tightly I’m not sure they ever intend to let go.
I don’t care if anyone comes in. I don’t care if they arrest us for public indecency. The only thing I care about is getting more of Heath.
With one final thrust, he sinks deeper into me, causing both of our orgasms to break at the same time.