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“I don’t give a shit if you can relate or not,” he snaps.
The music throbbing outside the restroom door and the lowered cadence mark him as a stranger, and the shoes are unfamiliar. Which makes it a little easier, I decide, to keep the conversation going. There's no skin in the game.
“Sorry for trying to relate,” I snap back, bristling slightly. “Been a rough night here, too.”
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be talking to me through a glory hole?”
“I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“It's pretty shit,” he agrees. The angle of his shoes says he hasn't sat yet, standing in the stall facing outward.
I blow out a breath and push my hair behind my ears. “Worse than shit.”
“Then why stay?”
“Why not?” I shrug, a gesture he can’t see. “At this point, I have no better place to be.”
“No better plans, either,” he retorts.
I lick my lips. “No plans at all.”
“No offense, but you sound like the kind of woman who prefers having her neck draped in diamonds instead of a pearl necklace. And fucking around is the only thing this club is good for unless you’re here to make a drug deal.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about and shiver for a different reason. “Not sure what you’re getting at there, pal.” He’s not wrong about the club, though.
“Isn’t it obvious? You don't have any plans, and right now, the two of us are alone in this bathroom. You might not be the type, but you’re here, which implies you want to take a risk. Correct me if I’m wrong?”
Right now, in the blinking fluorescent light overhead, I’m not Isabella Balestra. I’m anyone I want to be. A risk taker, if I choose. “What kind of risks?”
Fabric shuffles, visible through the hole. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Your accent is cultured, your shoes are Prada, and you’re sober. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied.
I swallow down a laugh. “That’s a good way to get what you want. By insulting someone.”
“Do you think it’s an insult if you sound like the kind of woman with a good head on her shoulders, and I’m calling you out for not using it? Sounds more like I’m giving you a compliment.” His voice dropped lower yet into a rough growl I felt in my lower abdomen.
The overwhelm I’d felt moments before transforms into a trickle of lust before I’m aware of the change. “When you put it that way…” I trail off.
“Now, I’ll ask you one last one. How is your head?”
No more stupid questions, huh? I fight back a smile, my stomach and lower clenching. Awareness settles between my legs. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The sound of a zipper pulled south is overly loud in the silence between one song and the other. Half a heartbeat later, the head of his dick pushes through the glory hole, the tip already swollen and glistening with precum.
My mouth goes dry, and I lick my lips, unable to tear my gaze away from the sight of him.
What the hell is happening? The night has gotten away from me on every single level, but as I stare at this stranger’s cock, just waiting for me to wrap my mouth around it, I stop. Not freeze, exactly, but go still. Every bit of my focus is on the crown of him. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.
Maybe it’s a bigger risk than I’ve ever taken, but fuck it.
Fuck it. What was the worst that could happen?
I push my hair back away from my face again. Unwilling to look too closely at the negatives, I lean forward and swipe the tip of my tongue lightly across the underside of his dick. The man on the other side shudders, and through the partition, I hear his moan.
“Holy fuck.”
I open my lips wider and take the first two inches of him inside, twirling my tongue underneath his head before increasing the pressure. He’s salty but clean. That counts for a lot in my book. It’s hard to move in the stall, but I switch my position to get a better grip on his shaft, my legs pressed together against the throbbing in my pussy. I get my entire hand around him with several inches left to suck and tease and play with.
