Chapter 3 #2
He chuckles again, his shadow a hair blacker than the rest of the room looming over me, and a frisson of fear curls through the desire. “Yeah, you will,” he finally speaks, voice deep and gritty.
I can’t recognize it. But then, it was loud out there, and the acoustics in here are weird—
“Shiloh, listen—”
“Enough talking.” Lips descend on mine, shutting me up. I moan at the contact and jolt when a pair of hands come up and roughly squeeze my breasts. He gives a low sound of approval and tugs my shirt up and the cups of my bra down beneath the globes, pushing them up.
I’m shocked at the sheer, undiluted lust that spears through me when his mouth moves to cover and suck one nipple between his lips.
Shouldn’t I be screaming? Am I really just going to let some man maul me in a public bathroom when I’m not even sure…? But…fuck that. Who else would follow me inside like this? Who else would be brazen enough to do this?
It’s dirty and it’s hot and I’m just going to choose to believe it’s—
I lay my head back and groan aloud at the sensation of his mouth and hands working my tits. At the sound, he grabs my hands and turns me roughly to face the sink, slapping each hand palm down on the ceramic pedestal.
“Don’t let go,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you.”
The sound of his belt buckle and zipper fill the space.
I look into the darkness of the mirror I face and try to make out something…any aspect I can…of his appearance. There’s only darkness, though, formless, and without shape.
His hands go to my jeans and yank without tenderness or sentiment until I’m bare, and then he takes hold of my hips and angles my ass higher in the air.
Seconds later I feel him, and the harsh scrape of his jeans against my thighs, as he nudges against my entrance.
He runs his cock back and forth through my folds, a guttural groan escaping him.
“You’re fucking dripping for it…you want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
He’s barely touched me, but I feel like I’m about to explode. Like my pussy is a pulsing, ticking time bomb, and the slightest touch will result in detonation. Red wire, blue wire, yellow wire, breathe on that mother fucker the wrong way—it makes no difference.
I need to come, and I don’t want to have a conversation about it.
Using one foot, he wedges my jeans and panties around my ankles, effectively shackling me in place, and teases me with the tip of his cock.
I shudder at the feel of his length dragging the skin of my inner thighs with each pass.
Yes, what’s he’s doing is intense and intimate and sexy as hell.
But it’s the metal bar I can feel with every pass that has me practically begging for it.
He’s pierced, and I want to feel what that’s like. What it’ll do to my orgasm.
His breath comes quicker, and mine turns choppy as he teases me. He continues to dirty talk, until I can’t decide if it’s hot or I want to smack him.
“Oh, yeah. You want this cock, don’t you? Gonna take it so good, aren’t you, sweetheart…tell me you want my cock in your sweet pussy.”
Whichever it is, it’s effective, because I want his cock, and I want it now.
He stops moving, and I want to wail. I try to press my ass back against him, but he places a hand on the small of my back and holds me in place with the other on my hip.
“Goddamnit, please—”
He rocks against me, entering me with a shallow thrust that has me keening, and the hand on my hip comes around to press against my mound, finding and teasing my clit with unerring accuracy.
“Tell me you want it…” he breathes, his mouth at my ear. “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard and fast, right here, right now, or I’m not going to.”
“Please fuck me.” I sob out the plea, thinking I’ve lost my mind but unable to keep from saying the words. I want him.
He surges forward and into me with one brutal thrust, making me squeal as I slam against the sink and my hands come free. He repositions them.
“Hold still or I’ll stop.”
I hold still, letting him fuck me as promised, hard and fast and almost primitive in his pounding. He moves the hand on my clit to grip my hair and pull my head back, baring my throat to his mouth. Latching on to the artery that throbs in my neck, he sucks hard.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
I don’t have time to analyze the words. His thrusts become harder, more frenzied, and without his hand at my pussy, he bangs me into the sink.
I move my own hand to protect my flesh, and he growls, slaps it back to the side of the sink with his free hand, then cups me himself, his fingers cradling and digging into my folds.
“You want me to make you come, little ghost?” He pulls my hair harder, and sparks zing across my vision.
Little ghost. The words tremble across my consciousness but I squeeze my eyes shut tight and ignore them. I don’t answer, but instead try to grind against the heel of his hand, situated right where I need it most…
He laughs, deep and dark next to my ear. “Ah-ah-ah.” He controls me easily with the grip on my hair and pussy, and with my limited range of movement… I know more clearly than ever I’m entirely at his mercy…my pleasure at his whim.
The thought makes me whimper.
“What was that?”
“I want to come.”
“You wanna come?”
“No.” I moan. “I need to come.”
“You need it, huh?”
He begins to fuck into me slower and with deliberation, dragging his dick in and out in leisurely fashion … I can feel his eyes on our dim outlines in the mirror as he pumps slowly back and forth.
It’s infuriating. Enthralling. I need more.
“Make me fucking come,” I grit out. “…now, damn you.”
His breath soughs out, and he releases my hair to return his hand to my hip. And then he fucks me hard and fast, his other hand working my clit, until I cry out a keening sound of completion. Outside the door, there’s a burst of laughter.
He follows suit a moment later, hands applying bruising force to my hips. His forehead drops to the skin of my upper back, where he noses along my flesh as though committing my scent to memory.
He withdraws slowly, my pussy clenching as though to hold him within me, then releases me and straightens. Behind me, I hear the rattle of his belt as he fastens his jeans.
Then he unlocks the door and opens it. He’s silhouetted briefly in the shaft of light that floods in… then darkness smothers me once again as he closes the door carefully behind him with a soft click.
Gone.
I shake my head to clear it and reach over to feel along the wall until I find the light switch and flip it on, blinking at the brightness. I lock the door again and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I’m a wreck.
Panties around my ankles, hair a halo of JBF paradise around my head, boobs pressed up by the underwire scooped beneath them…sweaty and defiled with cum leaking down my thigh.
“Jesus H.”
I grimace, then smile reluctantly as I begin to straighten myself out.
Tomorrow I return to the search for my parents’ killer. Tonight…I got laid.
And God help me, but I really want more.