It’s fucking unbearable.
“I’ve got to go to use the toilets, excuse me,” Blake says later, getting out of his chair. Just as he turns around, I see something in his eyes, a beckoning.
I chew on my lip, looking at Rio and Heath who are in deep conversation about travel. And by deep, I mean they’re discussing the significance of full-moon parties in Thailand and what drugs to do.
“I’m going to go get a drink from the bar,” I say after a minute but they barely hear me.
I get up and head to the washrooms at the back.
There are only two private stalls and I have no idea which one Blake is in and now I’m wondering if that look he gave me meant anything at all.
“Blake?” I whisper, looking between the doors.
Nothing.
I decide to try the woman’s one.
It’s not locked.
But there is a woman on the toilet, pants around her ankles, doing her business.
“This is occupied!” she yells at me and I quickly slam shut the door.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I cry out, feeling all sorts of embarrassed even though it wasn’t my fault at all. Why do people do that? Just lock the fucking door.
I turn to go for the men’s but there’s already a man going for it and turning the handle.
He opens it wide and Blake is in there, just standing there in the middle of the washroom.
Luckily he’s fully dressed.
“I’m sorry,” the man says curtly.
“I was just leaving,” Blake explains quickly, coming out of the bathroom and standing beside me. “Hi,” he says, peering at me.
“Hi,” I reply, smiling like a goof.
The man eyes us suspiciously before closing the door and locking it. The door thumps on its hinges, the man making sure it really is locked.
Then the women’s washroom opens and the occupant comes out, glaring at me as she goes.
“You know her?” Blake asks as he ushers me in the washroom.
“Making all sorts of friends tonight,” I tell him.
He locks us in and before I can say another word, he’s grabbing my face, lips devouring mine, tongue pushing in my mouth, stroking every pent up desire.
I grab him in kind, my hands in his hair, at the back of his neck while his hands grab my waist, my ass, pinching, groping. We grapple together in a frenzy of heat and lust and something unbelievably real.
I’m pushed back against the tile wall and pinned there and I’m his, completely his. My body operates on pure instinct, throwing myself to him, with no inhibitions, no caution. It craves him as much as my mind and soul do. As he presses against me, breathing hard and kissing me, messy and wet, I put my hands around his shoulders and relish the lean, taught muscles of his back as I pull him in.
One of his hands is lost in my hair, tugging on it the way I like and I let out a breathless gasp from the sweet pain. The other is lifting up the hem of my dress, shrugging it up around my waist. He slides the satin of my underwear aside lets out a deep moan that I feel vibrate through me as he explores me with his fingers.
“So wet,” he murmurs. “You get so fucking wet for me.” He sticks three of his large, long fingers inside me and I clench around them, begging for more.
“Hurry up and fuck me,” I tell him.
No, seriously. Someone’s going to knock at the door any minute.
He laughs, low and rich, reaching down to lift me up so my legs are wrapped around his waist. I reach down between us and frantically try to undo his belt. He stares at my frenzied hand for a moment, clearing enjoying just how much I want him.
“Hold on, peach,” he says, pulling down his pants and boxer briefs until his cock bobs freely, so dark and rigid. I love him like this, so raw, thick and all for me.
He holds himself at my opening and waits for a few beats. I can feel the heat coming between us, the way his eyes burn into me, until his gaze drops to his cock as he’s about to push its stiff length inside me. Before I can urge him in, my fingers tightening their hold on his back, he pushes with one large, powerful thrust.
I can’t help the cry that escapes from my lips, and then the soft “oh,” as he slowly, agonizingly, pulls himself out, his cock absolutely drenched.
He eases himself back in, a few inches at a time, his lips brushing over mine.
“You’re really something, you know that?” he whispers against my mouth, his words breaking off into a groan. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
My heart catches high in my throat. I can’t speak, I can only feel, and the intense gaze of his eyes tells me that something is happening, something new. His eyes continue to burn as he pushes himself in and out, pumping steadily. He grabs my chin lightly and holds my face, making sure I can’t break eye contact, can’t look away. It’s nearly embarrassingly intimate, the way his stare feels like he’s stripping me bare.
Our moans are hushed, our breathing rough and ragged as he moves inside me, his hips circling so he hits each and every tightly wound nerve inside me.
It’s so fucking good.
It’s everything.
We are joined, connected and the more he thrusts in, deeper, deeper, the warmer he feels, like fire, barely contained. A bead of sweat rolls off his nose and finally his eyes pinch closed as he approaches his climax, his mouth going for the crook of my neck where he bites and sucks and grunts as he pounds me, each thrust getting faster than the last.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses, inhaling sharply. “I’m coming.”