“We can go in the alley, or maybe even the bathroom, but folks use the bathroom a lot around here.” My voice is so husky it’s scraping the bottom octave. “What we’re not gonna do is wait till we get home, because I can’t.”
Our eyes tangle, an electric charge in the air, breaths getting heavier the longer we feel each other, smell each other.
“Alley,” she rasps, standing and practically running toward the back exit.
“You sure?” I ask like she has a choice now, but my hand is already at my belt. I’m already calculating how much time we probably have before someone invades our quiet alley. In my head, I’m already doing a stellar job of fucking her against that brick wall.
Small mercies, she’s wearing a dress. With our eyes locked, she raises it over her thighs to show me her panties, and with slow, steady movements, she eases them over her hips and down her legs. They encircle her shoes in delicate lace and silk. She widens her stance a few inches and reaches back under the dress. I can see her hand moving at the juncture of her thighs and her eyes are still fixed on me, though they start going hazy with the pleasure of her own fingers.
“Did I tell you to touch yourself?” I ask, trailing kisses down her neck, pushing aside the collar of her dress with my chin, sucking the skin tattooed with Neruda into my mouth to make sure she is as sweet as she was this morning.
Just as sweet.
“You didn’t want me to get started without you?” Her fingers slide up and down her slit under the silky material.
“Oh, you can get started.” I slide to my knees. “As long as you know I’m the one finishing you off.”
I duck under her dress and, as gently as I can with a dozen horses galloping through my veins, push her hand aside.
Get that shit outta here. Not tonight.
When she comes tonight, the first time we make love without a net, it’ll be all me. As hot as it is to watch my wife touch herself, I’m holding myself personally responsible for all her orgasms tonight, kind of like a designated driver, except I’m already drunk on the smell of her and the liquid desire pouring from her pussy while I eat her out in this dark alley. The possibility of discovery heightens every second, like there’s barely time to suck her clit. Barely time to get three fingers inside of her. Barely time to pull these lips into my mouth, except I do take my time. I’m thorough with this, and it’s time well spent when her thighs tremble around my cheeks. She forces my mouth deeper into the V of her body, an act of pure desperation, primal instinct compelling her fingers into my scalp. She thrusts frantically against my face.
I love the scream that rips from her throat as she gushes into my mouth, and I don’t even try to stifle the sound. Anyone who comes back here is getting an eyeful and an education. She starts sliding down the wall, her legs giving out, but I bracket her slim waist with my hands.
“Not yet, baby.” I trap her against the wall with one hand and fumble to get my pants undone with the other. Her eyes are cloudy and sated, but when I jerk her legs up and around my back, she blinks and lust filters back into her stare. I thrust up, deep and hard and sudden, making her breath hitch.
“Grip.” She squeezes her eyes closed, her face wreathed in pleasure. “I do need to walk tomorrow.”
“Yeah?” I press into her, holding her hostage between my body and the brick wall. “Well you should have married some other guy if you need to go around walking all the time.”
“Marry some other guy?” She breathes through a smile. “Never.”
I surge into her again and again and again, relishing the startled sound she makes, like she had no idea I could tunnel deeper into her body than the last time, but I keep making a way. She hooks her arm around my neck for leverage, taking my lips between hers and biting hard enough to sting.
Tension stiffens my back and legs, seethes in my balls as I get closer. Every time I thrust in, those slick walls cling to me, like they don’t want to let me go. Tight and perfect, even Bristol’s pussy is possessive, holding on to me, reminding me who I belong to.
“Grip,” she slurs, drunk on our love, like a shot of moonshine, wild and potent. “Oh, God.”
And then it happens. She goes first, her body clenching and shuddering. Her head drops back against the wall and her eyes slide closed on pure passion. I’m next, and it doesn’t even feel real. Every day is a fantasy with this girl, not just the sex—though . . . dayuuuum, the fucking sex.
But it’s more than that. It’s the depth of this feeling, not just when our bodies lock together, but with every glance, every touch, with the things we tell each other without saying a word. It’s life with her. I’ll never get enough of the emotion careening through my heart right now. I link our hands, pressing them into the wall so I can see the calligraphy tattooed into my ring finger.
When I make love to Bristol knowing that someday soon, she’ll have my child, the vow I spoke to her a year ago today echoes through my mind just as surely as it’s inked into my flesh.
Always.
Evermore.
Even after.
Still.
Chapter 29
Bristol
I’M HAVING a bad day and Grip is making it worse.