Page 8 of Good Girls Beg

"You don't smell too bad yourself." Leather, and was that black cherry? Whatever it was, it was a heady combination. "Are you driving tonight?"

He leaned back to look in my eyes. His were gray, like the sky before a storm burst. I could just make them out in the shadows of his mask. Currently, they held confusion.

"You were drinking apple juice," I said to clarify. "I was wondering if it was because you were driving."

"Ah." His shoulders relaxed. "No. I'm careful about what I put in my body."

"Me too," I said. Apparently the vodka made me brave, because that was a blatant innuendo.

A moment of silence followed my words before he said, "I'm sure you are. You seem… I don’t know, discerning."

"I definitely am," I agreed. I searched for something else to say but came up blank, so I focused on the music instead. Humming along to the words, singing a couple I actually knew.

He dropped his hands, his fingers pressing lightly against my ass as if he didn't realize what he was doing. I didn't object or pull away. If anything, I liked the way they felt. This night was promising.

He left them there, lingering, swaying to a song by a local band. The tips of his fingers touching my ass cheeks every so often.

"I like this song," I said.

Lyra and I saw them perform on the beach a time or two, but I couldn't remember the lyrics. I loved that Vertical nightclub supported local acts. Saltgrave Cove was a small city that looked after its own. That was one of the reason why my fathers moved here. This was the kind of community they wanted me raised in. Not somewhere big and soulless, but not so small there weren't any opportunities.

"Me too," he said. "Scarlet Felony are my favorite."

"Same here," I said. "You mean the band, right?" Even though he couldn't see it, I grinned, knowing it'd show in my eyes. I realized I didn't know his name. Blonde hair stuck out from the side of his mask. Blondie was as good a name as any right now. If we never exchanged names or numbers, that was okay with me. I wasn’t ready for anything too intense. Not yet. Some day, for sure, but not tonight.

Blondie laughed. "Them too." His hands tightened on my ass pulling me closer to him. Our groins grazed against each other, only our clothes between us.

I felt his cock stir, straining the front of his pants.

It had been too long since I'd been with anyone. Between study, work, and worrying about my dads, I hadn't made the time, and the opportunity hadn't presented itself. It seemed to be presenting itself now. Thick and hard.

"Do you want to get some air?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's go." I agreed.

The people around us might not object to us fucking here on the dance floor, but we might get kicked out if we did. Lyra would be annoyed if I was banned from the place. Honestly, so would I. Outside of Loams, this was our favorite place to come for fun. Especially this kind of fun. Hooking up wasn’t something I did in front of my dads.

I let Blondie take my hand and lead me off the dance floor, toward the back door of the nightclub.

The air was cooler outside, fresh after being packed in like sardines. The parking lot was dark, except for the lights from the former warehouse next door, now a brothel called Horizontal. Yeah, the places were owned by the same person, who evidently had a sense of humor.

I started to take my mask off, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Leave it on," he said. "I don't know about you, but I like a bit of mystery."

I hesitated for a moment before dropping my hand back to my side.

"Okay, yeah, I do too." The idea of fucking someone without knowing his identity? That was more arousing than it should be. I didn't care. My blood was on fire, burning hotter as he led me deeper into the parking lot, over to a dark corner where we wouldn't be seen or disturbed.

Hands on my hips again, he pressed me up against a dark car. His hands wandered down to cup my ass, before he was sliding one under my skirt. He rested it at the base of my ass cheek, his fingers between my thighs, not quite touching my pussy.

I pressed a hand between us, down to the front of his jeans. His cock was straining to get free. He was big, pressed hard against the fabric. Warm under my palm. I gave him a squeeze. A little taste of what I wanted to do to him. I needed to curl my fingers around him. To feel his head, slick with pre-cum, under the pad of my thumb. I needed to hear him almost come apart before he slid into my body.

He groaned. “I want—" he started.

"There you are." The two men who approached him in the club were winding their way through the cars, heading toward us.

CHAPTER FOUR