1. Unwrapped Temptations #2
Our eyes locked for a microsecond. He smirked and looked away, but not before I saw the flicker of appraisal.
I caught my reflection in the glass behind him: hair mussed, lips still stained with martini, white mesh top from the café clinging to nipples perked by both chill and anticipation.
I looked like I’d just had sex, or was about to.
Tessa followed my gaze and nudged my hip, hard enough to send me staggering half a step. “You should do him,” she whispered, eyes glued to the man’s hands as he fondled the robe’s belt. “Seriously.”
Vanessa’s voice slid in, low and merciless. “Can you imagine Tom’s face if you sent him a video of you fucking that guy in a dressing room?”
The words shot straight to the heat at the base of my spine. My heart started double-timing, and for a moment I didn’t trust myself to breathe, let alone move. But the reckless, liquid confidence of the afternoon had lodged itself somewhere deep, and it wasn’t going to let go.
“I should fuck him right now and send Tom the video,” I said, half as a joke and half as a dare. My voice came out breathier than I intended.
Vanessa grinned, eyes gleaming. She dug my phone out of my purse and held it up, thumb already hovering over the record button. “Then go, Missy. Show us how it’s done.”
Tessa was transfixed, her tongue flicking over her lower lip. “God, yes.”
I squared my shoulders and walked up to the man, feeling my thighs tremble. He looked up as I approached, giving me an up-and-down that bordered on indecent.
“Excuse me,” I said, pitching my voice low and careful. “But I couldn’t help noticing how well that color suits you.”
He smiled, a slow wolfish grin. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. You should see it in the three-way mirror in the back. The lighting is amazing.” I stepped closer, until there was barely a handspan between us, the silk of the robe brushing my wrist. “My husband is obsessed with watching me in places like this. Would you mind helping me out?”
For a moment I thought he might laugh, or at least question my sanity. Instead, his eyes darkened and he gave the barest nod. “Lead the way.”
Vanessa and Tessa loitered by the mannequins, pretending to compare thongs. I could feel their eyes burning into my back as I led the stranger to the rear dressing room. My pulse was in my ears. I closed the curtain, then turned to face him, hands behind my back.
“I want you to fuck me so hard my husband has a panic attack.” I didn’t know where the words were coming from, only that they weren’t enough. “And my friends want to watch.”
He blinked, then smiled again. “You’re insane. I like that.”
He didn’t waste a moment. Within heartbeats, his hand was beneath my skirt, palm gliding over the curve of my ass, discovering the lace edge of the micro-thong I’d donned.
He hooked two fingers in the waistband and snapped it sharply, the sting making me inhale sharply.
“You want me to rip these off?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent vibrations straight to my core.
“God, yes,” I breathed, my voice already thick with desire.
He complied, his strong grip seizing the delicate fabric and tearing it down the seam, the cool air hitting my damp flesh.
My cunt was already slick and throbbing.
He dropped to his knees, his hands gripping my hips firmly, and pressed his mouth to my clit, his tongue flat, firm, and relentless.
The suddenness of it: his rough stubble against my tender skin, his heat, the sheer primal need to make me shatter, sent electric shockwaves through my thighs.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him closer, and rolled my hips forward, grinding against his mouth with abandon.
Behind the curtain, a movement caught my eye: a gap in the velvet opened wider, revealing the glow of Vanessa’s phone camera and a glimpse of Tessa’s wide, hungry eyes.
“Make a show of it, Missy,” Vanessa purred, her voice laced with lust. No longer content to merely observe, Vanessa and Tessa entered the lavish dressing room, taking their seats on the plush bench for an intimate view. The man didn’t falter, his mouth still working me with fervent intensity.
I spread my legs wider, bracing against the mirror, and let him feast on me until my knees threatened to give way. I came in a rush, my body shuddering, his mouth unyielding as I moaned and cursed and rode his tongue for every last pulsating wave.
He stood, his lips glistening with my arousal, and unzipped his pants in a single fluid motion.
His cock sprang free, thick and already glistening with precum.
I dropped to my knees, my mouth watering, and wrapped my lips around him, taking him deep until he hit the back of my throat.
He gripped the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and fucked my mouth with an urgency that left my mascara in smeared ruins.
He pulled out, his breath ragged, and I licked him from base to tip, my tongue tracing every vein, every ridge, ensuring the camera captured every salacious second.
He bent me over the vanity, his hand gripping the nape of my neck, and drove his cock inside me with a single forceful thrust. I saw stars.
He pounded into me: raw, relentless, insatiable, with the same ferocious energy he’d had while browsing the racks.
I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror: lips parted in a silent scream, eyes wild and glassy, breasts pressed firmly against the cool glass.
Behind me, I saw Vanessa’s hand slip into her own panties, her fingers working furiously as she filmed.
Tessa was next to her, legs spread wide, two fingers pumping in and out of her own pussy, her mouth parted in awe and ecstasy.
The man fucked me hard, each thrust filling me completely, his hands massive on my hips, digging in, controlling every angle.
I came again, louder this time, my body clenching so tight around him I thought I might never let him go.
He groaned, a primal sound that sent shivers down my spine, then pulled out and spun me around.
“On your knees,” he commanded, his voice hoarse with need. I obeyed, my body eager to comply, wanting Tom to see every moment of my submission.
He pumped his cock in front of my face, his hand slick with our combined arousal.
When he exploded, I swallowed everything, letting the cum drip from the corners of my mouth, a glaze of satisfaction painting my lips.
Vanessa zoomed in, capturing the flush on my cheeks, the pure, unfiltered ecstasy in my eyes.
The man zipped up, kissed my forehead, and left without a word. I watched him walk past the girls, both of whom nodded at him as if he’d just changed the channel.
I stood, straightened my skirt, and snagged the phone from Vanessa. I didn’t even review the footage. I just attached it to a text and hit send: “Thinking of you.”
There was no response, not right away. But I knew Tom, and I knew exactly what he’d be doing the second he got the video.
Tessa watched me, still breathless, adjusting her own panties under her dress. “Tom’s going to lose his mind.”
I licked my lips, savoring the salt and the burn of the moment. “That’s the idea.”
We left the boutique arm-in-arm, the air outside cool and electric. The night was young, and for once, I was starving for everything it had to offer.
The front walk glowed beneath the porch lights, illuminating the gold-embossed boutique bags swinging from my wrists.
I felt the weight of silk and lace inside, the memory of Vanessa’s hands fitting each piece to my body and the way Tessa had all but devoured me with her eyes.
But all of that faded as I saw Tom waiting, backlit and broad-shouldered, silhouetted in the frame of our front door.
He didn’t say hello. He just took the bags from me, dropping them on the marble tile with a soft crash, and pulled me into the foyer. His mouth found mine, rough and hungry, and I tasted the pent-up hours he’d spent watching and re-watching the video I’d sent from the boutique.
He shoved me against the wall, his palms hot on my ribcage, and ripped open my blouse in a single, brutal motion. The buttons pinged off the tile and skittered toward the stairs. My bra was long gone; he pressed his face between my breasts, kissing and biting until I arched up to meet him.
“Jesus, Missy,” he rasped, voice almost unrecognizable. “You have any idea what you did to me?”
I laughed, breathless. “Tell me.”
He answered by yanking up my skirt, exposing bare skin and nothing else. He found the place where the stranger’s mouth had lingered hours before, fingers exploring, tracing the wetness already pooling for him. He made a noise. Half groan, half snarl.
“Watched you cum for him three times,” he said. “Thought I was going to lose my fucking mind.”
I shivered, pressing my hips into his hand. “Then make it four.”
He didn't bother undressing. He unzipped just enough, freed himself, thick and veined with desperate need, and pinned me against the wall with his knee, spreading me wide until I felt the cool air kiss my swollen, sensitive folds.
The head of his cock slid over my clit, up and down, teasing circles that left glistening trails across my flesh, until I nearly screamed.
When he entered me, one excruciatingly slow inch at a time, I almost collapsed.
The pressure, the fullness, the sheer force of him stretching me open.
It was everything I'd been waiting for since I left the boutique.
He pounded into me, hands under my ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, lifting me off the ground so I clung to his shoulders, nails breaking skin.
My skirt bunched around my waist, one shoe dangling precariously from my foot, the heel occasionally tapping against his calf with each thrust. The house echoed with the wet, obscene sound of our bodies meeting, my breathless whimpers, his guttural groans, and I knew our neighbors could probably hear every delicious, filthy moment. I wanted them to.
He carried me down the hall, never breaking stride, his cock still buried impossibly deep inside me, and we crashed onto the living room sectional.
He pushed me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up until my ass was presented to him like an offering, and fucked me from behind, both hands fisted in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my spine into a perfect curve.
"Show me how you moved for him," he growled, his breath hot against my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
I arched, rolling my ass against him in slow, deliberate circles, squeezing tight around his shaft as he thrust deeper, faster. I tried to breathe, but all I could do was moan and brace myself against the soft leather, my nipples dragging against the cool surface with each punishing thrust.
He slapped my ass, hard enough to sting, the sharp crack echoing through the room, and I gasped as heat bloomed across my skin. "Fucking show me, Missy," he demanded, his voice thick with possession.
I did. I rode the edge until I came, legs shaking, inner walls pulsing and clenching around him, nails clawing at the cushion.
I heard him swear, felt him lose control, his rhythm faltering, his grip bruising, and then he was cumming, hot and urgent, each pulse filling me so completely I thought I might break in two, our combined wetness dripping down my inner thighs.
We collapsed in a heap, sweat pooling between us, the air thick with salt and the sweet, sharp tang of sex.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Tom nuzzled my neck, his stubble rasping along my jaw. His hands gentled, tracing lazy circles over my hips.
When I finally rolled over to face him, he grinned. “Best welcome home ever.”
I grinned back, feeling sixteen and seventy at the same time. “Vanessa wants us to try Club Euphoria next weekend.”
His eyes darkened. “Tell her we’re in.”
I pressed closer, nipping his lower lip. “Tessa and Marco will be there. She’s got a new bustier she wants to show off.”
He was already getting hard again. “And what about you?”
I stretched, letting the remnants of my ruined blouse fall away. “Maybe I’ll let you choose.”
He kissed me, slow and deep, then cradled me to his chest. We lay tangled on the couch, our limbs hopelessly entwined, and planned the next adventure.
Outside, the sun was setting over Carolina Shores, painting the lake with molten gold. But inside, the night was just getting started.