As I glance up at the base of his throat to where his collarbone is visible, I see the dark, thick shadow of masculinity there, giving me confirmation that I’d find it everywhere on Mark Olsen. I clear my throat and speak in a hushed tone that clearly states my intention.
“I think you might want me, too, doc.” I add a wink for good measure.
Mark’s irises, generally the color of green earth, are blown wide and now brushed darker with lust. He sucks in that lush bottom lip of his, his gaze landing on my hand that still caresses his arm. If I was incorrect about my assumptions, Mark would’ve removed my hand by now and maybe even taken a swing at me. But he hasn’t –yet– so I’m compelled to see what he does next.
With a nervous expression, Mark scans the room, his head shifting left to right, searching for something. Maybe looking for the date that came with him. Or to confirm whether we’re being watched.
I’m about to ask him if he’s looking for something or if he’s trying to hide this from someone, when he returns his gaze back to me, his eyes glazed with lust, and simply states very clearly,
“I’m going to use the restroom.”
He stares at me for a beat more, giving me the signal I know to be true, before he swivels in his barstool and walks toward the back of the crowded room. Not once does he look back at me.
But I know.
My gut instinct was correct.
He wants me, too.
And I’m not about to pass up this opportunity – whatever it might be.
The excitement reverberates through my body as I stand and walk in the same direction he went. I catch a glimpse of Addie in the crowd and I give her a wave when she smiles and waves at me from afar.
The hallway is narrow and dimly lit with no one else around. The private party is all up front in the main bar area, so it’s quiet back here. Down the hallway is the back exit with the red sign illuminated above the door and on either side of me are the restroom doors.
A second before I push open the door, I imagine Dr. McHottie Olsen behind this closed door, waiting for me to do delicious things to him tonight. My dick throbs against the pleat of my zipper at the sheer possibility. The secret rendezvous and the sly nature of this hookup about to go down.
I walk through the door and my gaze is immediately drawn to Mark, standing at the sink, staring into the mirror, his hand tightly gripping the counter. His profile is gorgeous, hair sweeping over his forehead, cropped on the sides that convenes into a tailored jawline. Under the dim light, his expression appears tense.
Mark turns when he hears me come in. His expression of uncertainty pummels me like a fist to the gut. I remain with my back against the door, the sound of the locksnickingclosed the only noise in the dank room.
“I don’t know about this...” he says his voice hesitant and rough. “I’ve never really done this before.”
I’m standing next to him in a flash, and squeezing my body between Mark and the vanity, taking his face in my hands and roughly cupping his cheeks. Then without a second thought, I kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him.
He’s uncertain? Well, that’s not gonna fly with me. He’s either in or out and uncertainty has no room between us.
I know what I want, who I want, and how I want it. And it’s to taste this man. To get down on my knees and worship his cock with everything I’ve got.
Mark tenses, his hands at his sides, his lips parted as if in surprise. As I take control, he soon joins in, and our kiss is hot, urgent and demanding. Without question one of the hottest I’ve ever had, and he immediately opens for me, so I can sweep my tongue over his teeth with deep, probing flicks. A moan of appreciation rolls off his tongue.
Dropping an arm and swinging it behind him, I grab his ass hard, tugging him against me with a grunt. The fullness of his cock presses against mine and I sigh in relief. A dangerous need to fuck this man hard and fast swells inside of me as the pressure becomes almost unbearable.
Mark’s body, rigid at first, has now relaxed with the knowledge that this is going to happen and he begins a slow grind against my thigh, as if his body has taken over where his mind was initially resistant; we’re chest-to-chest, cock-to-cock, mouth-to-mouth.
Pulling back, I let go of him suddenly, nodding sharply to the open stall.
“In there, now.” I command, my tone brooking no argument.
His brows lift in surprise. “You’re pretty bossy, aren’t you?”
I chuckle and slap his ass as he complies with my request.
“If you only knew the extent of it.”
I love the reaction this gets me as he stares at me slack jawed. My chuckle is low and deep, as I adjust my aching shaft and stalk toward him. He looks like a caged animal – a little petrified for what’s to come – and I convey the calmness of the predator on the hunt.
When I step in the stall, I crowd his body with mine, caging him in, pressing him against the brick wall. It’s an old, Boston pub, probably turn of the century, with architecture that was made to stand the test of time.
