Naughty Or Nice. Rachael Stewart
the confines of my trousers.
She pants above me, her hands clawing at the counter. Everything about her urges me for more, to go faster, but I’m in my element…exploring, tasting, probing.
She shivers as I run my tongue over her clit, her breath a hiss between her teeth. I repeat the move, slow and hard at first, lapping at her. Jesus, I could stay like this for as long as she would let me. And then she writhes and I sense her climax building. I change my tempo, make quick flicks of my tongue in tune with her movements, then faster as she tenses.
I can’t wait to tip her over and start anew. To feel her lose it and then go again and again.
I break away just enough to watch as I slip two fingers inside her, plunging deep and bringing them out wet and slick. She is so ready, so hot and needy, all for me.
I hear her pant my name. The sound mingles with the noise of my fingers inside her and with the muttering taking place outside the cubicle door and my smile grows. I want her to scream my name. I want her to forget her place, the perfect persona that she presents to the world, and break…for me.
I grow hungry…two fingers become three…and then her frenzied hands freeze, her knuckles flashing white at the counter-edge. I look up into her face, feasting on the desperate heat of her gaze, the fierce pinch of her teeth as she draws back her lower lip. I drop to her clit, sucking over her hard, and she cries out. The room stills but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until she shatters under my hand, my mouth…
‘Lucas… Lucas…’
I keep going, and then her thighs close around my head and her entire body convulses with wave after wave. She’s coming hard and my body is at bursting point, living it with her. For a split second I worry I might lose it too—and then a cough breaks the air from the other side of the door. A prim, what-do-you-think-you’re-doing? type of cough.
I look up at her, my grin as reckless as I feel, but something in her eyes holds me still, robbing me of breath. It’s not their satiated blaze. There’s something almost vulnerable—something that takes me back ten years.
And then she blinks. It’s gone. Did I imagine it?
She releases the counter to comb her fingers through my hair. Her touch is like fire upon my skin and I shoot the thought down.
The heels outside retreat, the restroom door opens and shuts. We’re alone, and I’m not wasting the opportunity. I throw my focus back to her, leaning into her warmth, her wetness, and I drink her down, cleaning up every last drop.
She quivers around me, gives a small whimper. ‘I’m…sensitive.’
I know she means in her body, the orgasm having left her raw, but I think of that look. I need to replace it with the wild heat of seconds before, so I soften my touch upon her, I tease… I can feel her shifting away from me, as if the moment is over, but I’m not ready. I’ve not had my fill.
‘We should be…getting back…before we’re missed.’
Her words are hitched and I know I’m getting to her. Her hand in my hair has turned rough, and her body trembles with resurging tension.
‘I can’t…not again…not so soon.’
Wanna bet?
I hold her apart, my mouth and my tongue unrelenting. My body pleads for release. I know I should stand, take her now. But I can’t. I am lost to her pleasure.
‘Oh, God, Lucas!’
This time she cries it so loud the sound echoes through the empty room—hell, it probably reaches the outer corridor too. This is madness. But I’m all for it.
She grips me against her with both hands now, her hold fierce as her legs spread wide over the marble top. She’s clinging to me as if her life depends on it, but I’m not going anywhere. I catch each wave of her orgasm with my mouth. It’s perfect, heavenly, and as I get to my feet my cock spasms painfully.
Now.
I look down into her sparkling gaze. Her smile is soft, warm.
‘I didn’t think—’ She breaks off, her cheeks flushing deeper, her lashes lowering.
Her sudden embarrassment makes me ache—and not with need, but with something I don’t want to acknowledge. I use my hands to stroke her inner thighs gently, holding her open to me. I don’t know why I’m waiting. I should bury myself in her and be done with it. With this.
‘It’s a well-known fact that women can enjoy multiples.’
‘In general—just not me.’
So I’m the first. That feeling swells inside me and I drop my head. I need to kiss her. To taste those cherry-red lips. But she turns her head away. It’s a rejection. A shot of ice water in my face.
‘No kissing.’
‘Fuck me, Evangeline, what we’ve just shared goes a whole load further than kissing.’
Her thighs tense beneath my fingers and her palms drop to my chest. ‘I must get back.’
She has to be kidding.
Her hands forcing me away tell me otherwise.
I’m lost for words.
Carefully she closes her legs and slips from the countertop, bending to retrieve her thong from the floor. I get there first. Scoop it up into my hand. Our gazes lock in silent challenge. Hell, if she’s leaving me like this I’m taking something. Even if it’s to reassure me that I didn’t dream it.
She wets her lips, their glossy redness killing me. ‘Fine—keep them.’
She smooths down her dress as she rises. I follow suit but make no attempt to leave. There’s something about her I just can’t shake. Call it too many years of absence, a need to make up for lost time, an opportunity to take what I’ve always wanted at last.
I have a ridiculous urge to say something—but what?
She reaches for the door latch and my hand covers hers on instinct. There are voices approaching once more and her eyes flicker in their general direction, away from me. I want so much to read her thoughts.
‘You need to go, Lucas.’
Her voice is cold. Unsettling. And then she looks at me and I can’t work out whether it’s with hatred or sadness, or both. But it’s enough for my hand to fall back to my side.
She pulls open the door, forcing me to move out of the way. It doesn’t matter what her eyes tell me now. She wanted me—and that doesn’t just die out on a simple tongue-fuck or two.
She turns to me, her hand hot against my chest as she backs me out of the cubicle.
‘This isn’t over,’ I say.
But she smiles—it’s soulless—and her hand shifts from me to curl around the edge of the cubicle door.
‘Yes, it is… Now we’re even.’
I register her meaning, shaking my head. Like hell we are…
‘We’re not even.’ My grin is one of sheer arrogance. ‘Not by a long shot.’
Her brow lifts into an elegant arch—I can’t tell if it’s in disbelief or challenge—and she closes the door in my face, the lock twisting into place.
It’s a first for me. I should feel humiliated, cheapened—used, even. But I’m feeling none of those things.
Fire burns in my veins—fire for the chase, the thrill of the conquest. She will be mine. My groin pulses and I adjust myself, lifting my hand to sweep it over my face as determination settles in.
When I’m buried deep inside her—then we’ll be even.
I