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“I keep waiting for you to find me disgusting, to be turned off by me and what I like.”
“That’ll never happen.”
“He said that too.”
“You listen to me, Scottie. I like the way you are—the prim, proper guy who everyone thinks is straitlaced. And I like the man you are when all your clothes come off and it’s just the two of us. I enjoy you and what we do. Why would I find that disgusting? I’ve never come so hard in my life as I do when I’m with you.”
The startled server made a U-turn. If Griff hadn’t been staring into my eyes, forcing me to believe every word coming out of his mouth, I would have been embarrassed by what she must have overheard.
“You still don’t believe me?” Griff asked.
“It’s hard to believe.”
“I think you need to use the restroom and wash your hands.”
“My hands are—”
“Go wash your hands, Scottie.”
Oh!
I licked my lips and, on shaky legs, made my way across the room. How could everyone in the restaurant not be staring at me? Wasn’t the word “tramp” stamped on my forehead? Couldn’t they tell my reason for using the restroom was as phony as my confidence to date someone like Griff? He was way out of my league, but for some reason, he seemed to care about me.
When I entered the restroom, an older man stepped out, leaving it empty. I turned on the water and obediently washed my hands while my heart pounded. The door creaked open, and a shiver ran down my spine.
Griff.
Without a word, he strode to the sink and turned the water off. With my hands in his, he pulled me toward a stall and locked the door. I was already struggling to breathe when he yanked my hips against his while he devoured my lips. A warning bell pealed in my head. I couldn’t let Griff have his way with me in a public restroom.
“Everything about you turns me on, Scottie,” Griff whispered against my lips. “This sexy little body and big brain of yours.”
“Griff.” I groaned when he palmed my ass and squeezed. He hauled me up against his front, thrusting against me, and the warning bell stopped.
“Feel how much I want you.”
I couldn’t do anything but feel the bulge at the front of his jeans digging into my stomach. He flipped me around, took both my hands, and placed them on the wall above my head.
“Keep them there.”
Holy hot, gooey marshmallow, but Griff worked fast on my pants. Before I could blink, I was bare-assed, my pants and underwear shoved down my thighs. Griff worked saliva between my cheeks and slipped a finger inside me. A squeak flew from my lips. He covered my mouth with his palm, and I stiffened.
Someone else was in the bathroom. Water ran in the sink, then turned off.
Griff crouched and shoved the thick head of his cock against my hole. I doubled my hands into fists against the wall and panted against his palm to contain the moan bubbling inside my throat.
Must hold it in.
Can’t make a sound.
Griff pulled out, slid back in, and I gave up. I let loose the moan trapped inside my throat. His palm wasn’t enough to muffle the sound. As if realizing how futile it was to keep me quiet, he removed his hand and clutched my hips. At least one of us seemed to have some self-control. He didn’t work all his dick inside me, just enough to have me whimpering and my toes curling up uncomfortably in my dress shoes.
“Fuck,” he whispered hotly against the back of my neck. “I could fuck you all day, Scottie, and never tire of it.”
Oh! Oh god. I grabbed my dick and aimed it just in the nick of time, as I came, spraying the bathroom wall with cum. Behind me, Griff groaned, pumping his hips twice and shoving his entire length inside me.
He wrapped a hand around my middle—the only thing keeping me upright. I was spent, my knees weak, and my heartbeat wild. I closed my eyes and concentrated on calming down before I had an asthmatic episode.
“You okay?” Griff whispered into my ear, his tone full of concern.
