Besides, I got rid of all the short skirts. No one ever sees the garter tattoos.
“Being coy doesn’t exactly play to your strengths,” he says.
His fingertips push underneath the gathered pink silk on my thigh. I look down, watch his fingers disappear underneath the fabric: knuckles, hand, wrist, and then he finds the edge of my panties from under my skirt, toys with them.
My heartbeat feels like it’s pounding through my whole body, my skin one big delicious ache. I have to remind myself to breathe, my corset-bra tight over my ribcage.
“Seems like it’s working now,” I point out, sliding my hand around the back of his neck.
“That’s because your attempt wasn’t very coy, was it?” he asks.
Lightly, almost casually, he flicks the tip of his thumb across my clit.
My entire body jerks, and I gasp.
I swear to God Seth’s pupils dilate, as if he’s a predator who’s spotted his prey. The wickedest smile spreads across his face.
“Want me to try again?” I whisper.
“To be coy?”
He moves his thumb again, this time sliding it over my clit through my panties. This time I’m ready and the only part that moves is my hips, rolling toward him, seeking a rhythm.
I just nod to answer his question, and his hand keeps moving: slide, slide, his movements becoming tempo, even if it’s slower than I’d like.
“Go ahead,” he says, that hungry, delighted grin still on his face. “Tell me something coy while I play with your clit right outside your sister’s wedding.”
He moves the tiniest bit faster, and my eyes stutter closed. My head goes back against the wall, and I take a deep breath, bite my lips together with my teeth.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“I don’t think that’s it.”
I force my eyes open and look at him.
“This isn’t…”
A wave of pleasure knocks me backward. My train of thought dissolves. My eyes are closed again and the back of his neck is cool beneath my fingers.
“Go on,” he says after a moment.
He’s laughing. I can tell. I’d like to kill him but then he’d stop.
I haven’t had sex in the two years and few months since the last time I fucked Seth. In all that time it’s been me and a few different vibrators, and while I’m strongly in favor of some self-love, it’s not the same.
A vibrator doesn’t slowly tease your clit the tiniest bit slower than you want. A vibrator doesn’t move a little faster when you make a noise. It doesn’t bite your earlobe when you turn your head to one side, cool plaster under your cheek, wainscoting gripped in your other hand.
And I’ve never once heard myself whisper, “I’m gonna come,” to a vibrator, nor has a vibrator ever whispered back, “Please.”
Somehow, when that wave crests and slams through me, I don’t make a noise. I don’t moan or shout Seth’s name or even whimper, I just gasp for breath and press myself against the wall and feel my face flushing and my legs tremble.
Seth pulls his hand away. My skirt hasn’t even hit the floor when he kisses me again, his hand going to my face and his fingers locking into my impossible hair, pinned back and sticky with hairspray and a dozen other things.
He pushes me against the wall like he can push me through it, kisses me like we’re fucking. His shirt’s come untucked and I slide my hand under it, his happy trail tickling through my fingers.
“The fuck are you doing?” he growls, into my mouth. “I already told you not to undress me here.”
I don’t answer. I just slide the palm of my hand down until it finds his cock, thick and hard as fuck below the zipper of his pants.
“I don’t need to undress you,” I tell him. “Just unzip.”
He pushes me even harder, his hips driving his erection against the flat of my palm as he groans softly, into my ear.
“Cabin,” he says. “Now.”
“It’s a chateau,” I tease as I stroke him again, tip to root.
“I don’t care what it’s called, we need to go there before someone catches us fucking against this wall.”
“Is that a prom—”
He puts the pad of one thumb over my mouth.
“You know goddamn well it’s a promise,” he says.
I open my mouth. Lick his thumb. He pushes it between my lips and I close them, suck on it gently.
His cock twitches against my palm, and I lick his thumb one more time, let him pull his hand away.
“It’s the last one in the row,” I say. “Number twelve. Here.”
I pull the key from my pocket, and Seth takes it, those ferocious eyes alight.
“You’re not coming?”
“I better be.”
The key’s in his pocket, both hands on my ass. He squeezes in response.
“You’re not accompanying me?”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Ten, max.”
“That long?”
His fingers find the notch between my ass and my thigh, slide inward, and I want to climb him again.