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He fell to his knees before me, prising my thighs apart. I had to shuffle my feet wider apart to accommodate him. His tongue touched me, ever so gently, and it took everything inside me not to scream.
‘John,’ I begged. I wasn’t even sure what I was begging for. I just knew that I needed him, desperately. He slid a finger inside me and I tightened around it, involuntary, pulsing with need. A finger wasn’t going to be enough. I needed him. Inside me. Now. I squeezed his head, my hands fisted in his hair. Every time his tongue touched me, it was like a fucking inferno lit up inside me. Every time he pulled away, I pressed my hips forward, seeking that wet caress that was threatening to bring me undone in a Denny’s bathroom stall. Of all places.
Guess I’d been wrong. Seemed we really were going to fuck in a restaurant bathroom.
When he pulled his face away, I just about crumpled over on myself. I caught a look at myself in the mirror – clumped mascara from the nap I’d taken on the kitchen counter earlier; my cheeks flushed.
‘Somebody might catch us,’ John said, that teasing glint in his eye.
I held onto his arms, my legs still shaking from the way he’d cruelly taunted me until I was almost coming. ‘Let’s shoot everyone on that bridge when we come to it,’ I said, pulling my tank top down to expose a nipple. I pulled his hair, and he went with it, bringing his mouth to my pebbled nipple and sucking hard enough that pleasure hummed dangerously close to pain.
He pulled his mouth away and picked me up effortlessly, his hands cupping my ass cheeks. ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he murmured. I did, breathless with anticipation as he walked me backward to the sink. He dropped me onto the edge, and luckily the thing was built solid enough, because he hitched my skirt up and slammed into me so hard, my head went back into the mirror and left a little crack in the glass. Not enough to draw blood. Not even enough to see stars. But enough that I hoped I’d be driving past this Denny’s with Dornan one time, and have to stop off, and come in here to relive this moment, one crack in the mirror and John’s hand over my mouth as he made me come so hard, I drew blood along his arm with my fingernails. Especially when he pulled back and with every insistent thrust inside me, he told me he loved me.
I love you. Fuck. I love you. Fuck! At one point, I thought his love was going to send me through the wall and into the next room. With my free hand I gripped the edge of the basin, as hot, wet kisses trailed up my neck, one thumb on my clit, making me come so hard I bit down on his shoulder without thinking, and John shuddered forcefully as he came inside me.
I felt bruised inside. I’d be sore for days after that. Some very sick part of me wondered if I’d still feel like this, raw and tender, the next time Dornan put his fingers or his mouth or his cock near me.
I hoped so.
I know, it’s not right. I never said I was a good person, did I? Part of me was already looking forward to the bruised places Dornan would touch inside me, the map John had made when he’d fucked the shit out of me, to put it plainly, and that Dornan would never know I was feeling John’s touch when he was inside me.
It made me want to fuck again just to feel that rush of illicit love.
* * *
The drive home took time. John took the scenic route, which meant he drove all around LA. Trying to avoid having to drop me off. I got inspired halfway home and opened the container that held my leftover waffles, dipping my finger into some of the syrup and smearing it all over his cock. I licked it all off as he tried not to crash. I think he liked that. Sure sounded like it, and by the way he was pressing his hips up, his cock bottoming out at the back of my throat, I think I was doing just fine.
‘I meant what I said,’ I murmured, just as we were rounding the corner to my apartment block, John’s maple-syrup-covered dick securely back in his pants and my own panties back on under my skirt. The clock on the dashboard said 3:48 a.m. I was into my first full day of being twenty-nine. So far, it wasn’t so bad.
I’d already kissed John goodbye in the parking lot of the diner. This close to home, it’d be foolish to do something so obvious. Emilio haunted these streets. Dornan lived here half the time. And while Guillermo might in theory be accepting of some relationship between me and John, I still didn’t want to give him, or anyone else, a reason to tear us apart before we’d even had our chance to get away from them all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARIANA
I was in the shower when I had my near-death experience. I mean, I almost had a goddamn heart attack. Washing shampoo from my hair, I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments, letting the suds wash down my face until the water ran clear.
When I closed my eyes, I swear he wasn’t there. But when I opened them again, I jerked back in shock, my ass and palms hitting the cold wall tiles behind me as Dornan stood in my bathroom, watching me like a fucking creeper.
He seemed slightly amused by my Psycho victim rendition. All that was missing was the shower curtain to wrap around myself while Norman Bates went to town. My bathroom was all tile and glass, but besides that, I hoped Dornan wasn’t in here to murder me.
‘Sorry,’ he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Jesus, John hadn’t been wrong. Dornan looked like someone had run him over, thrown the car in reverse, and driven over him again, paying particular attention to his head.
I shut the water off, taking the towel Dornan offered me.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ I asked, feeling genuine worry for Dornan in the sea of bitterness that was getting higher and more treacherous to navigate with every passing day.
‘John happened to me.’ He paused for a beat. ‘Did you speak to him?’
Well, damn. It wasn’t worth lying. I’d only be found out, wouldn’t I? And lying about John was going to arouse a whole lot of suspicion. I wondered, briefly, if Dornan could see the cogs turning in my mind the way I sometimes saw them in his.
‘He came around asking for a first aid kit,’ I replied. ‘His head wouldn’t stop bleeding.’ I drew a line down the middle of my forehead with my index finger. Fucking fuck fuck, it was harder to lie when you hadn’t come up with the lie in the first place. Could he tell? Dornan was as sharp as they come, but as I studied his bloodshot eyes, it was pretty clear that there was enough of something bubbling away in his veins to dull his ability to read me.
Dornan watched as I wrapped the towel around my torso, tucking it in tightly. Normally this was the part where he’d rip the towel from me and fuck me up against the wall, but tonight he made no such move. I knew my suspicions had been right. He was getting it somewhere else. So was I, so I didn’t exactly judge him, but it was one more nail in our coffin.
My hair hung around my face, soaking wet and straight. I stepped out of the shower, taking the hand that Dornan offered me. It was an odd gesture, almost gentlemanly. And my Dornan was anything but a gentleman.
