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Can he kiss me?
Can hekissme?
Guy Coltrane has a VIP pass to my body. He can do anything he likes to any bit of it.
“Ngh,” I say, then I’m tugging on his t-shirt. Yanking him down to me, and rocking up onto my toes.
It’s nothing like our fountain kiss. That was careful. Considered.Thisis a clash of teeth and tongues and ragged groans, like two wild animals slamming together on the discovery channel. He crushes me so hard against the wall that all the air squeezes from my lungs, and I don’t care. Oxygen is overrated. Ilovethis.
“Is this,” I grip a handful of soft hair and twist, “what you remembered from the tattoo parlor?”
“For a start,” Guy says, and he doesn’t move back to speak. He presses the words directly into my mouth, my cheek, my jaw, like he doesn’t want to lose contact even for a second. “We did other things too. Shall I show you?”
Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m having a heart attack.
“Yes. Yes yes yes. Show me. Show me now.”
He chuckles, pleased and smoky, and then his hand is roaming over my body. Searing me through the thin cotton of my dress as he touches every dip and swell below his kiss. When I arch into his hand, impatient, he huffs a laugh and cups my breast.
And… listen. I’ve always had small tits. It’s so bad, they used to make washboard jokes about me in college. I’m skinny and coltish all over, more hard angles than soft lines, and part of me has always wondered what Guy would think of that. Whether I would turn him off.
“Fuck.” He grits the word between clenched teeth, rubbing my hard nipple with his thumb. It’s prodding through my dress, so sensitive to every brush and pinch, and I’m wriggling. Whining as I sag against the wall. “Effie. You really like this, huh? Look at you. You’re so responsive. Fuck, touching you is a dream.”
Oh, yeah. A girl could get used to commentary like that. I pull Guy’s head down again for another drugging kiss, another teasing suck on his tongue.
He rumbles and slots a hard thigh between my legs, the hem of my dress rucking up between us.
And I don’t care. I don’t care if the whole world can see my panties. The palm fronds block us from the street anyway, and I couldn’t stop now if I tried. I’m already riding him. Already rocking my pussy against his leg, warm tingles spreading through my body with every inch of delicious friction, clinging to his strong shoulders as the warm, spicy breeze wafts over my cheeks.
Guy licks my throat. “God. You taste so fucking good.”
Did we do this last night? Is that what he’s showing me? Or is this all us, all real and brand new?
“I don’t want to go in there.” The words slip out of me. A reluctant confession. “I don’t want it to be over yet.”
Guy grunts, his teeth scraping over my pulse point. “Neither do I.”
And he doesn’t offer any more, doesn’t say we can keep going or that things will change, but I don’t have a chance to fall apart over that because he’s reaching between us. Sliding a hand down my stomach, then cupping my pussy through my underwear like he owns it.
“I held you like this.” His cheeks are redder than usual. He’s scowling at me, but not like I’m in trouble. Like he wants me so badly that he’s mad about it. “I ground my hand on your pussy until you came for me. Until your moans rang in my ears. That’s what I remembered, Effie.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t—don’t stop.”
Guy growls, and then he’s working me through my panties. Grinding against my clit until spots of light float before my eyes, urging my hips to keep rocking, my heart galloping in my chest. And his thigh is so thick and strong, his shoulders blocking out the twilight stars, and I’m so wet, and all I can taste, all I canfeel, is him.
“Guy.” I whine his name, pleading for mercy.
“I’ve got you.” He grinds my clit harder, his lips on my jaw. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let go.”
It’s like a tidal wave or a wild fire. Some epic force of natural destruction, slamming through every inch of me until nothing but wreckage is left in its wake. And all I can do is cling on tight, eyes screwed shut and breath frozen, twitching in my boss’s arms. It’s heaven. The closest thing to flying I’ve ever felt.
Afterward, I collapse back against the wall. Jesus, I’m sweaty. And when Guy steps back, he looks equal parts satisfied and ashamed.
I reach for his belt. “Shall I—”
“No.” He shuffles back even further. As if I might lunge for him like a cobra. “That’s okay. Thank you, Effie.”
