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I slide my hands into her hair, hold on tight as she places those perfect, pouty lips around the head of my cock, and slowly pushes forward, drawing me into her mouth. I gaze down at her, savoring the view of those big, innocent-looking blue eyes fixed on mine even as she takes my thick cock into her mouth.
“That’s right, dirty girl. Suck my cock.”
Her lips touch her fist where it’s wrapped around my cock, and she starts to pull back, but I reach down with one hand and pull her hand off the base of my shaft.
“Ah, ah. Not yet. I want to feel my cock all the way in that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you can get me into your throat.” With my other hand, I pull her head forward, farther onto my cock.
She takes in a deep breath, and grips my ass with her hands at the same time, before she pushes forward, taking me all the way into her mouth now. The spongy tip of my cock touches the back of her throat, and I groan, my eyes still fixed on her as her eyelids flutter with concentration.
“Fuck yes, Daisy, just like that.”
I pull her back a little, and she breathes in again, her tongue still swirling around the underside of my cock. I rock back on my heels, giving her time to catch her breath before I thrust forward again. “God, your mouth is fucking magic,” I murmur.
Before long we find a rhythm, and I’m moving fast enough to make her breathe hard, her mascara smudging a little at the corners as tears form, which only makes her look hotter. She seems to agree, tightening her lips around me and gripping my ass so hard it hurts, but it’s the perfect pain to go with the pleasure of that fucking mouth of hers.
“You are so goddamn dirty, I love it,” I hiss, fucking her face faster, faster…
But right at the edge, I step away, and she stumbles forward with a cry of protest. “What the hell, Bronson?” She grabs the sink to push to her feet. “I was almost finished.”
“I know,” I tell her. I step closer and grip her waist again. Lift her onto the sink, this time pushing her skirt up and out of our way. I position myself at the entrance of her pussy, and when I reach between us to check, I find her soaking wet all over again, even more so than before. “But I want to make you come first,” I say.
I hold her in place as I reach for a condom, but she beats me to it, plucking one from my shirt pocket where she’s learned I keep them by now. With deft motions, she unrolls it along my length, and I’m barely able to restrain myself until she’s tossed the foil aside before I plunge into her, my cock positively throbbing with the need for release now.
Fucking hell.
“God, yes,” she cries out, her head falling back, her hair a perfect blonde cascade all the way down to the edge of the sink as my cock fills her tight pussy. Her legs clamp around me, ankles hooked behind my ass, and her hands grab my shoulders tight.
I fuck her against the sink’s edge, hard and fast until she’s screaming, and we’ve both long since forgotten we’re in a public place. Neither of us cares. I savor the sensation as she comes hard with my dick inside her, her pussy convulsing around my cock like a fist.
When I finish, shortly after her, we come back to reality to hear someone pounding on the door.
“Hey! This is a public restroom, do you hear me? I’m calling security.”
She catches my eye, and bursts into laughter.
“This isn’t funny!” the woman outside the door shouts back.
By now, I’m laughing too, as I reach down to yank my pants back into place. One glance over my shoulder at Daisy, though, tells me she needs a moment to put herself back together. Her mascara has streaked down her cheeks, and her hair is a wild mess. Not to mention I think I might have torn the edge of her dress. “I’ll go distract her,” I promise.
“Thanks,” she mouths to me, not that it makes a difference now.
I step close to her, pull her in for one last searing kiss. “You are fucking amazing, you know that?” I whisper.
She laughs and shoves my chest with both hands. “Go. Distract that lady before we both get thrown out.”
“Meet you by wherever they’re keeping the Scandinavian-inspired modern log cabin furniture?” I wink. She laughs and nods, and I duck out of the bathroom to head this woman off at the pass.
It takes me a few minutes to ditch the angry woman outside the handicap stall—mostly by offering to walk her to security myself, and explaining along the way that I was taking the mother of all dumps in that bathroom, so if she wants to report me for being overly loud while using the bathroom, or for using the handicap stall when I should have gone in the men’s room with its single actual bathroom stall, that was just fine by me.
Halfway to the security desk, she seems to give up on the whole mission, though not without yelling a few choice words over her shoulder at me about how I should respect other people’s spaces and not be such a filthy creep.
She might have a few points. Not that I care to admit it.
I leave her muttering to herself in an aisle near the warehouse, and I’m about to turn around and delve back into the main part of the store in search of the only other person in here who’s dirty-minded enough to tolerate me, when a fist clamps around my upper arm.
I yank my arm free and turn to find two familiar-looking faces behind me.
The bruisers from the day I met Daisy. The ones at the gas station with the scorpion tattoos. I ball my fists and plant my feet on instinct.
That’s when I hear a single, ominous click from one of their pockets. I glance down to find the bruiser on the left holding a long, barrel-shaped object underneath the fabric of his baggy hoodie. “Outside, wise guy,” he says, in a thick accent I can’t place. Eastern Europe, maybe?
“I don’t want trouble,” I say.
The guy without the gun grabs my shoulder and spins me around, then shoves me toward the nearest brightly-lit Exit sign. “Neither do we,” he says. “And shooting you in the middle of this fine establishment would constitute trouble in our book. So let’s take this somewhere less public.”
The old lady’s scolding about the bathroom echoes in my ears as I grit my teeth and stumble into motion. At the same time, I scan the shelves and aisles around me, terrified with each one we pass that I’ll see Daisy coming toward me, all bright smiles and no idea what the hell is going on.
Luckily, I don’t see her. At least, I tell myself it’s lucky. But a sick, twisted part of my brain wishes I could glimpse her one last time. See that smile once more before these fuckers put me out of my misery.
Thing One shoves open the exterior door and Thing Two shoves me out of it, the barrel of his gun digging into the small of my back as we walk, nestled right up against my spine. Outside, it’s broad daylight. I squint against the sun’s glare. It feels weird. Like this is the sort of thing that ought to happen at night in a lonely alleyway, not in the middle of a crowded store at noon on a Saturday.
But maybe that’s why they chose now. Most nights I’ve avoided lonely alleyways, been careful. Today, though? Today I got sloppy. Went out to this big box store in public, right in the middle of town where I knew these guys saw me a month ago.
I thought I’d seen them watching me since. I’d caught glimpses of cars parked on my street at odd hours, spotted people whipping around to walk the other way, tailing me home late in the evenings after I come home from “work.”
But I convinced myself it was nothing. I tricked myself into believing I was safe here. I wanted to believe it, because if I could hide in plain sight here, then there was a chance I could stay. I could spend more time with her.
“We’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” the bruiser to my right growls, as he shoves me up against the windowless back door of an unmarked white van. My shoulder collides with the metal in way that makes my bones shriek, and I grit my teeth to keep from shouting in pain.
His buddy wrenches open the door. “We’re going for a ride.”
“Anywhere nice?” I ask, which earns me an elbow to the gut. I double over in pain.
