The images on the walls were by a photographer I loved—a lesser known Ghanaian artist who hadn’t gotten the acclaim I was certain they deserved. I had both of their photography books but had never seen their work in person.
“How did you know?” I asked Ford.
After all, he had planned the whole evening. There was no way this was a coincidence.
“I pay attention,” he said with a pleased smirk.
I had no idea what had come over him, why this night felt so different, but damn, I liked it. The whole date felt like something out of a dream.
We wandered around the gallery for over an hour. Ford was tuned in to the eclectic variety of artists on display but still completely attentive to me, asking questions about what I saw in a particular photograph or what I thought about the abstract mixed media sculptures. He was interested in both the art and my opinions, and with each passing minute, I found myself wanting him more and more. When he casually took my hand in his, brushing his fingers softly along my knuckles, I became even more wet for him. And I wasn’t wearing any underwear, which only served to turn me on even more.
Reaching the last room in the gallery, I started to move back the way we had come, but Ford stopped me.
“This way,” he said, leading me out a door in the far wall.
I thought we were simply going home, but instead, Ford nodded his head at a roof access staircase along the side of the building. He started his upward ascent and I followed, feeling the evening breeze tickling the bare skin of my legs, the swirl of cool air moving upward, another reminder of my lack of undergarments. My need for Ford tugged at my lower belly, making my knees weaken on the climb.
Once we got up on the roof, I was delighted at the view of the city. All the buildings felt so close, like I could almost reach out and touch the glitter and glass, the golden light spilling from the windows. It was incredible. Chicago’s angular urban beauty spread out all around us, a blanket of stars overhead, the rooftop bathed in the glow of neon.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.
“You’re beautiful,” Ford said, coming from behind to wrap his arms around me.
Even though his body was warm against mine, I shivered.
Turning in his arms, I tilted my face up to meet his kiss. It was harsh, demanding, and urgent. Apparently I hadn’t been the only one thinking naughty thoughts during our gallery tour.
I slid my hand down his chest, his abs, down the front of his pants, where I could feel how much he wanted me. When I wrapped my hand around his cock, he moaned in my mouth.
Still kissing me, his hands slipped under the hem of my dress, stroking the soft skin of my inner thighs. When he reached my pussy, soaked and aching for him, I felt his body go still.
He lifted his head, his eyes brimming with lust.
“No panties tonight?”
I shook my head. He pushed a finger inside me and I let out a whimper.
“You’re wet,” he said.
“I’ve been wet all night,” I told him, grabbing his hand to steady it as I started to slowly ride his finger, keeping my eyes on his the whole time.
“That’s so fucking sexy,” he groaned, sliding another finger inside me.
“Yes,” I gasped, my head falling back. I widened my legs and leaned against the brick half-wall as Ford began to fuck me with his fingers, his lips hot on my neck, his teeth teasing and nipping at me. “More,” I moaned, my fingers digging into his biceps as I bucked on his hand.Without hesitating, Ford turned me around so I could grab the lip of the brick wall, and I did, staring out at the gorgeous view of the city at night. He tugged the skirt of my dress up, exposing my ass to the cool air, and then I heard the rasp of his zipper being undone.
“Fuck me, Ford—”
But before I could get any more dirty talk out, he was inside me, pumping hard and fast, like he couldn’t wait even one more second to fuck me.
I cried out, my moans lost on the wind as Ford fucked me against the wall. Both of us were gasping for breath, and he was whispering my name, squeezing my tits through my dress with one rough hand and slapping my ass with the other. I felt like a goddess. Knowing we could get caught at any moment only made me hotter. Wetter. Louder.
There was no buildup, no crest. Out of nowhere I just shattered, coming so hard and deep I was shaking all over with the force of my orgasm. With his hand clutching my ass, Ford let out a groan and finished at the same time, cursing as he spilled into me. We stayed there, gazing out at the city, letting our hearts slow, until Ford carefully pulled out and turned me around.
“Mrs. Malone,” he said formally, tugging my skirt back down. “Shall we head home?”
I nodded, and he arranged his jacket over my shoulders before taking my hand.
As we made our way back to the car, I realized that I didn’t know what was happening between us. All I knew was that it felt dangerous.
