I’d been worrying my lip the whole night, but it was only when your eyes met mine that I bit down hard enough to taste blood. This was a work event for a company I’d only just started working for. You could be my client, my coworker, my boss even – none of which sounded like a good option.
But your unrelenting stare left me no choice.
Your eyes flicked towards the private bathroom, and I went.
I didn’t have to wait for you long.
“You’re new.”
It wasn’t a question, but still I nodded.
“What role?”
“I’m a, uh, writer.”
“Mmm, a creative then.” Your finger was tracing the neckline of my dress, and itching to pull it down and see just how far you’d made me blush. I angled away slightly and you let it fall, stepping back to lean against the wall. “Tell me, then, what brings you to the bathroom? And why haven’t you run out screaming now that a strange man has joined you?”
The directness of the question cut into me. I shivered at the shame seeping out of the wound, winding down towards my stomach.
“Do I need to scream?”
“Do you want to?”
You were off the wall before I could move to safer ground. You had me cornered, now, fingers grazing their way down to the hem of my skirt. My attention followed them the whole way, trailing a burning path down my body.
My breath hitched. Whatever response I could have given you was lost, burned away under your touch – not that you needed one. Your hand reached behind me, grabbing the soft flesh of my ass and pulling my hips against yours, giving me the small relief of knowing I wasn’t the only one enjoying this.
You kept your eyes fixed on me the whole time, seeking out any sign of resistance, but you didn’t find any. I didn’t give in, not yet, but I was ready to go wherever you would take me.
“You like being caught, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
“Take off your shirt – or no, don’t bother, we can’t be in here much longer. Pull down your skirt.”
I reached behind me, listening as your zipper fell with mine. My skirt was tight enough that I’d struggled to put it on this morning, and you enjoyed the struggle as I pushed it off, now.
“Tell me, what do you want?”
Talking wasn’t really my strong suit. I pulled your neck down, parting my lips so you could taste me. I didn’t make a single sound until I pulled a groan from you first – only then did I let myself sigh into it.
This wouldn’t be my first mistake, nor my last. I wondered if it was worth it…
Until I felt you slide between my thighs, hot and heavy, pushing against the folds that had been slick with want since the moment we’d made eye contact.
It was worth it. Hell, if I kept quiet, maybe I could even keep my job.
I wrapped my leg around you and took you in my hand. I paused for a moment at the size of you. It would be hard to keep quiet – but it would be harder to get through the evening without this.
I angled my hips until you caught on my entrance, waiting for you to push in. You did, and I bit your neck to keep quiet as I stretched around you. After an agonising moment you were in, giving me just enough time to breathe in the scent of your skin before you started to thrust.
It was like you said: we didn’t have much time. And it seemed you weren’t going to waste it.
I moaned into your skin as pleasure pulsed through me. I could tell by your technique, hard and shallow and fast, that you didn’t really care who I was, only that you were going to fill me before anyone else at the company had the chance to… But there was an edge to it still, a deliberateness that wanted to push me over the edge with you, to not just take me but to make me give myself away too.
I was more than happy to oblige, leaning into the pleasure until everything else drifted away. In the end, all that was left was the flutter of my heart beneath my skin, the wet slide of you, and the sweet tinge of wine on your tongue.
Your hips stuttered, but I couldn’t give you all the power. I let myself fall first, pulsing around you, drawing your own orgasm out after me.
It was only when I felt the heat and pressure building inside me that I bothered to remember protection. I cringed, but the thought only brought another crest of pleasure. I twitched around you, the ecstasy transforming into something rawer, more painful.
“Fuck.”
You pulled out of me, your cum oozing out as you went.
“Not very eloquent for a writer.”
“Please tell me you have a vasectomy.”
You smirked.
“No luck. How long is your probation?”
“Three months.”
“Perfect, you won’t show until it’s too late. Just try not to fuck someone you shouldn’t before then. They offer a great maternity package.”
I looked at you again and knew I wasn’t going to make it.
I was so fucked.
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