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His head lifts; his eyes are teasing when they lock onto mine. ‘Getting off in public is an important part of your education...’
I freeze, staring at him. ‘I can’t!’
He grins, nodding slowly. ‘Really?’ And his fingers move faster and I dig my nails into his shoulder as a wave of heat bursts inside me.
‘Oh, my God...’ I sink my teeth into my lip and push my head back. It connects with the wall and his hand curves up, bracing me, as pleasure radiates through my body, striking me as a whip. ‘Oh, my God,’ I moan again, and now he kisses me to silence me, swallowing my moans and my cries, swallowing his own name deep in his body. He kisses me to silence me and I’m glad. In that moment I am so crazy with pleasure, I could have said anything.
I’m shaking when he pulls away from me and I blink, trying to regain sense of my control. I look around, my cheeks warm and my eyes, surely, fevered. As I watch him, still trying to make sense of this pleasure, he lifts his fingers to his lips and kisses them, tasting me, tasting this.
My legs almost drop out from under me.
‘You think you can’t?’ he asks, watching me with a smile.
I look out into the bar. No one is near us. There’s risk but...that risk is oddly, strangely alluring. And suddenly I don’t want him to be as in control of this situation as he is. He’s always in control, I realise with a sense of discontent. Even when I went down on him on the plane, he stopped me before I could drive him over the edge. I want to unsettle that control, just like he does with me.
‘I shouldn’t,’ I amend, smiling, my hands finding his trousers, toying with the belt.
His breath is low and raspy as I unzip him and grab his cock. Every good-girl instinct I possess rips apart inside me.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks as I curve my fingers around his rock-hard dick.
‘I thought this was part of my education?’ I lift my leg, pushing aside my doubts, and take his tip inside me.
He swears and says my name, but I push higher and then his hands are around my ass, lifting me, and he’s filling me and I have to bury my face against his shoulder to stop from screaming out. It’s so fast. So intense. I explode, squeezing around him, my muscles tight, his cock throbbing inside me, his body supporting me; I’m jelly all over. Limber and weak, yet strong too. Strong like Boadicea or Cleopatra or Elizabeth the First. Strong in the way of all the strong women who’ve come before me. Strong because I wanted him and I took him and God it felt good.
Strong because I made him lose control.
Strong because I unsettled him.
Strong because I feel sexually empowered.
When I lift my face, there is triumph in my expression and it echoes the satisfaction in my soul.
He looks at me with absolute terror. His expression is charged with things I don’t understand. He eases me to the ground and his expression only intensifies. ‘Jesus Christ, Millie. That was crazy.’
I frown, and then push a brave smile into place. ‘You’re the one who said public sex was part of...’
‘I didn’t use a condom,’ he interrupts, dragging a hand through his hair; he’s completely freaked out. And for a second I am too. I really am. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I know enough about the risks of unprotected sex to get that it was foolhardy in the extreme.
But then I take a breath and I look at things logically and a sense of calm returns. ‘Michael, it’s okay.’
He’s not mollified. ‘Fuck, it’s really not.’
‘It is.’ I straighten my skirt, focusing on him, hoping my calm will somehow be contagious. ‘I went on the Pill the day after you agreed to sleep with me. You’re the first person I’ve ever been with. I’m clean. And I’ve seen you with protection. I’d bet you are, too, right?’
A muscle jerks in his jaw and he nods, looking away from me. ‘Yeah. But that’s not the point. Jesus fucking Christ, Millie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen.’
And suddenly my desire to rob him of control seems pathetic and childish. ‘Michael—’ I lean forward slowly, kissing the pulse point at the base of his neck ‘—it’s fine. It’s my fault. I didn’t exactly give you much of a chance to think, much less say no.’
‘Believe me, wild horses weren’t going to stop that.’ He pulls his pants closed and then looks at me, his eyes piercing my soul. ‘But I should have known better.’
He leaves the bar not long after.
And the certainty I had that I’d go home with him fades. Guilt is a twisting snake inside my gut. Because I wanted to make him lose control and I succeeded, and I should be ashamed of that. I am. But I’m more ashamed of how hot what we did was. How even thinking about it makes my stomach quiver and my insides clench.
I had sex with Michael Brophy in the back of the bar. When anyone could have walked past and seen us.
And I’m glad.
