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He turned his head to the side and kind of rested his cheek against one breast while he took the other one in his hand and pulled it to his mouth.
The ice touched my nipple and for a second I thought I might pee on him. I jumped. My back arched and I reached down to grab his knuckles and shove his finger deeper into me.
I wanted to cry out but I lifted my head just in time and saw the shadow of a man walking past the playground.
I heard keys jingling.
Braden either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He tongued my nipple and buried his ice-filled mouth, now melted and nearly gone, around my areola. With his teeth just barely scraping my nipple, he rocked his mouth in rhythm with his thrusting hand.
I closed my eyes and my head fell back against the slide, banging a little louder and a little harder than I meant to.
A flashlight beam shot across the playground.
“Oh shit,” I whispered. “Braden, security.”
He pulled out of me and if it hadn’t been for the sudden fear of getting caught, I might’ve cried. I didn’t want it to end.
He grabbed my waist and helped me off the slide while I fumbled with my torn dress. What the hell was I going to do? I was half naked at a freaking carnival.
He scooped up the shredded threads and carried them for me as he led me behind a big bush where we could hide. The sound of the security guard’s keys jingled all the way over to the slide where we’d been only moments before.
I peered through the leaves of the bush and saw the security guard reach down to pick up Braden’s paper cup. He crumpled it up in his hand.
“Fuckin’ kids,” he said.
He tossed the cup into a garbage can.
“Go home! It’s past your bedtime dammit!”
I had to fight the urge to laugh. Braden looked like he was doing his best to remain quiet too.
The security guard left us alone and I immediately straddled Braden there on the grass.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Take me to a hotel.”
“Later,” he said. “We still have an hour left till the park closes. And I know what my first request is.”
I rolled my eyes, “Should I be scared?”
“Not unless a hand job on the Tilt-A-Whirl scares you.”
Ha.
“That I can do,” I said. “But how in the hell am I going to…”
I pointed down at my exposed bra and midsection, made very visible through the last remaining shreds of black dress hanging on for dear life.
Act 3 – The Flame’s Fandy (ha, new word)
I have to say we did a damned good job of turning my dress into a mini skirt and his charcoal sweater into the perfect over shirt. I looked like a freezing cold girlfriend who’d begged her man for his sweater. Fine by me.
Two tickets later, we were on the Tilt-A-Whirl. We weren’t alone. Two other couples and one single guy were along for the ride. We strategically picked our metal half-shell to minimize exposure.
The black fabric we’d ripped off my dress provided the perfect sheet for what I had planned. I didn’t even wait for the ride to begin moving. I didn’t want to lose momentum. I was still wet and I was going to stay that way until he caused me to be so spent I couldn’t take anymore.
I draped our makeshift sheet over his lap and shoved his hand up under my new sweater. He didn’t hesitate, finding my nipples again by lifting up the cups.
Doesn’t he know there’s a clasp?
