This is going to be one hot, dirty fuck.
One I’ve been dreaming about for two years.
“I’ve never needed to come so badly,” he murmurs, breathless. I wrap my legs around his waist as his hands shove up my dress, fingers sliding into my underwear. “God, Ruby, you’re already so wet.”
“Can’t hide how I feel about you, can I?” I ask, my head going back against the mirror, my body surrendering to the slick, hurried touch of his hands. Then I hold out the condom that was hidden in my fist.
He takes it from me without saying anything.
Quickly unzips his fly, taking his cock out.
I stare at it, such a beautiful, perfect dick, and watch as he tears open the condom, sliding it on his thick length with such precision.
Then his mouth is at my neck, biting, sucking, and my hands are in his hair, digging into his shoulders, silently begging for him to fuck me.
I get my wish.
He positions himself and then thrusts up inside me, so hard the air is expelled from my lungs. I hold him tighter, making fists in his hair, groaning loudly, as he starts to pump into me with hot, fast strokes. His tongue and lips are everywhere, my mouth, my neck, my chest, his hands are roaming over me with a frantic yearning, and it hits me how much my body has craved this.
From the way he’s grasping me, kissing me, I know it’s the same for him.
All our patience is gone.
We are hunger personified.
He fucks me quick and hard, his hips rutting against me, my ankles crossed behind his back, pushing him in with each thrust. His hand slips down, sliding his fingers over my clit, and the vicious need that’s been consuming me is all too ready to let go.
I come so quickly, it’s like I’ve fallen into a slipstream, fast and molten and drowning me and he strokes me again and again, hard and slick, until I’m calling out in a choked cry, trying to keep quiet but failing.
The world bursts open and then he’s grunting into my neck, swearing as he bites my ear, grasping at my breast. His hips falter and then they pick up the pace again, pushing in harder and harder, his breath heavy and ragged until he goes silent for a second.
“Fuck,” he cries out softly, shuddering and shaking as he comes.
He presses his teeth to my neck as his rhythm gradually slows, and I know he’s about to still, about to pull out. That we just fucked in a public restroom and there’s no reason to linger.
But I want to linger. I want him to stay inside me. When he’s inside me, I feel more than just full, I feel like he’s filling up the empty and ugly corners inside me. There are so many of them and he’s the one that makes them whole again. He’s the one that makes my heart race and skip but also soothes it. When he’s inside me, I don’t feel the fear, I just feel everything he gives me.
I place both my hands on his face, marveling at how damn gorgeous he is, taking in his sleepy soft eyes as they search mine, the lazy satisfaction on his lips, his stubble rough and skin hot against my palms. I want to hold his face all day, stare at it, relish it. I just want to be with him in every way I can.
Calm your tits, I scold myself. One fuck in a restroom doesn’t mean you get to be obsessed.
But, fuck, what if it’s already too late?
“Ruby girl,” he says to me in a low murmur, leaning in to kiss me on my lips. My god, to hear him call me that again…
Then he pulls out and I feel so intensely alone and vulnerable, it scares me to death. What happened to the carefree girl who never got attached, who never caught feelings, who soared from place to place like a bird without a flock?
“Are you okay?” he asks me, when he realizes I’m still sitting there on the sink. He throws the condom in the wastebasket and then comes over to me, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up and onto the ground.
“We should go back,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “As much as I want to be in here all night.”
I nod, smoothing down my dress.
I exit first, returning to my martini.
The bartender raises his brow. He knows.
Oh, and the old man with the book? He’s not even reading it anymore.
I suppose we might have been loud.
As I sit down and go back to finishing my martini, Luciano comes out of the restroom. I laugh to myself, thinking how obvious we are.
I drink the rest of the martini down in one gulp and thank the bartender, while Luciano places twenty euros on the bar.
We exit into the crisp winter air and I’m laughing, nearly stumbling, holding onto his arm.
“What?” Luciano asks, but he’s laughing too.
“I don’t know, I think the whole bar just heard us having sex.”
He shrugs. “Free entertainment, I suppose.” He stops and takes his phone from his blazer pocket, glancing at the time. “Would you rather me walk you back to your hotel or do you want to take a cab?”
I want him to walk me back. I don’t want this night to end.
But I know he has practice. That his team is important.
“A cab is fine,” I tell him.
“Perfect, we’ll get one together.”
So he flags down a cab and we get in and now that it’s later, the streets are emptier and the journey is quick. The whole time he holds my hand in his, his thumb slowly rubbing against my skin, leaving his mark on me.
Before I know it, the cab pulls in front of my hotel and I unbuckle my seatbelt, twisting to face Luciano.
“I guess this is goodbye again?”
I don’t want
