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“Come here,” I say, pulling him across the walkway to the entrance of the hotel, spotting a sign for the ladies’ room.
We hit the door, tumbling inside without breaking the kiss. Dipping his hand in the front of my dress, he pulls my breast free from its constraint. With my hands in his hair, I pull him to me. His mouth is hot, pulling at my nipple while desperately trying to find the slit hidden within the material of my dress.
“The door,” I whisper, bringing him back to reality.
He reaches behind and turns the lock on the door while I step back further into the bathroom, aware that my dress is hanging off one shoulder and my lipstick is smeared. Reaching for his jacket, I tug at the pocket square and ask, “Do you keep souvenirs from all the women you fuck?”
His lip pulls up at the corner, tucking my panties further into the pocket before pulling the jacket off and laying it on the counter behind me. “Only yours,” he says, before lifting me up.
His tall, lean body settles between my legs spreading them open further, and I wrap myself around him. Kissing me, his lips move over my jaw and down my neck, pulling my nipple into his mouth again. Fumbling through the layers of my dress in search of my panties, he can’t seem to get them off fast enough.
Done playing around, I tell him. “Just rip them.” He yanks hard, the material digging into my flesh before coming apart.
He grabs a condom from his pocket before unbuckling his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles. Reaching for his cock I fist it in my hand, trying to guide it to me, and I hear his breath hitch, but he stops me. Then he kneels before me, bunching the pale pink chiffon around my waist as he raises my legs over his shoulder. “I need to taste you first,” he says, pulling me to him.
I’m forced back against the bathroom mirror, arching my back as my fingers desperately search for something to grip onto as his head disappears under the material of my dress, tongue teasing until he has me writhing on the bathroom counter, pulling at his hair. My whole body tenses as I whimper and moan, feeling the building storm that gathers inside me.
“Ah, oh, God,” I cry, slapping my palm to the wall.
He pulls his mouth away momentarily, long enough to peer up at me from between my thighs through thick black lashes. “Now you know my name,” he rasps. “If you want a name to scream, don’t let it be God’s.” His head disappears beneath the chiffon, and I suck in a breath as his tongue swirls along the sensitive nub of my clit, and I rock against him, fucking his mouth.
I’m so close, standing on the edge, waiting for him to give me that final push, and when he does, I scream his name until he slams into me with relentless force.
Each thrust is more desperate than the last, as if he’s trying to climb his way inside me. Gripping his back, I can feel every muscle as he drives into me, fucking me through the orgasm, making my thighs shake, and causing every muscle in my body to pulse. His mouth desperately seeks out mine, and when we connect, it’s achingly slow. My heart bangs against my ribcage as I fight for air, desperate to not give up this feeling, because once it ends, reality will sink in
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, heart pounding through his wrinkled white dress shirt.
Dragging the palms of his hands down the sides of my hair, the rough pads of his thumbs brush against my cheek softly. Leaning his forehead against mine with his eyes still closed and breathing heavy, he whispers, “I’ve never fucked anyone in a bathroom before.” And then he laughs while trying to catch his breath, and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.
That’s lie number six.
Smoothing down the skirt of my dress, I tuck my breast back into the top, and slip the strap back onto my shoulder. Adrian helps me down from the sink and I run a hand through my hair, not wanting to look like I just got fucked in a bathroom, but I’m afraid it’s a lost cause.
I can’t explain the draw I have to him or what it is he sees in me, but it’s visceral and I can’t deny it.
He collects his jacket, draping it over his arm, and looks at me. “What is this, Lake?” he asks, running a hand through his unruly hair.
“Something that shouldn’t have happened,” I say, trying to gain back some composure.
Instead of protesting, he kisses me.
* * *
Stone by Whiskey Myers
Slipping out of the shower,I pat my hair dry and wrap the towel around me. The bathroom is dark because I couldn’t bear to turn the light on. It doesn’t matter though, because I can still see myself through the fog and darkness.
I can say this isn’t me, that I don’t know who this person is staring back at me, but I’d be lying. I’ve been pretending for the last seventeen years that I’m someone else. This version of me has been suppressed for so long that I didn’t remember she existed, until I looked up on that stage and locked eyes with Adrian Corvin and my world tilted.
This life I have carefully constructed for myself and my daughter doesn’t have room for a man like Adrian – a younger man who has a vastly different path than me, not to mention that my sister just married into his family.
While slipping on a night shirt and underwear, it only now dawns on me that my shredded panties are probably lying on that bathroom floor for some unsuspecting maid to find in the morning. Or worse, a guest. Unless Adrian took them. The thought thrills me more than it should.
Gently, I slip between the covers beside Noelle. She stirs, turning over to face me. Her brown hair covers part of her face and I push it aside.
“I fell asleep,” she says groggily.
“Yeah, you did,” I whisper.
