The story below is part of a collection of ten erotic, romantic short stories on the edge of exhibitionism. An amuse tush, if you will, for mature (age 18+) audiences only.
Each story stands on its own and can be read independently, exploring almost public sexy encounters. The full collection of ten short stories is available for sale now.
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He followed me up the stairs after I excused myself from the bar.
The communication between us was less unspoken signal and more trigger and effect, all of our touch-and-go glances building in anticipation of this opportunity. He must have waited all but thirty seconds before falling on my trail, weaving through the happy hour crowd as I had just done, as if guided by my scent. My skin tingled at the nape of my neck, electrified by the feel of his eyes in pursuit.
As I reached the top few steps I exaggerated the sway of my hips, making sure to reward him with a good view.
His body came up hard and warm against my back as I reached the bathroom door, all but shoving me inside the unisex room.
“Excuse me,” I said, swirling to face him. “What makes you think you were invited to come in here with me?”
“Oh.” A look of panic flashed across his face and he put up his hands. “Shit. I thought…my mistake.” He turned to leave but I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled his body flush against mine.
“I’m just teasing. Come here.”
His alarm gave way to bemused dismay, then a look that promised swift, sweet vengeance.
“So you like to tease, do you?” he said.
“Sometimes.” I pouted and worried my lip, looking up at him from under my lashes. I popped open the top button of his shirt and drew circles on his chest with my finger. “I wouldn’t want you to get bored.”
He spun our bodies around until my back hit the door, then kissed me hard and deep, his mouth melding over mine, the warm, sweet taste of him stirring my body from between my legs to my toes. Our lips met over and over, tongues clashing and tangling in turn. By the time he’d finished ravishing my mouth I was breathless, my limbs loose, my fingers buried in his soft, thick hair.
Then he lowered to his knees, his hands leaving trails of heat down my waist and my thighs, until they found their way up under my skirt.
I couldn’t help my smug grin as he discovered—
“Fuck.” His voice was raspy as he spread his fingers over my bare hips, my mons exposed. “You naughty girl.”
“It’s because of my dress,” I lied. “I didn’t want any panty lines.”
“Is that so?” he said. “What if a draft had blown by?”
I shivered at the smooth, velvet timbre of his voice, my exposed skin puckering with goosebumps. “I’d just hope it wasn’t the only thing doing the blowing.”
His low, lazy chuckle was almost a purr. I all but thrust my hips in his face as he brought his hand up my inner thigh. Even as I’d been waiting for it, I gasped when he touched me, his fingers grazing over my folds and lightly spreading them apart.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he said. “For me.”
His breath brushed up against my aching center and I stood transfixed, suspended on a razor’s edge of untapped pleasure.
“Say it,” he said.
“Say what?” I managed, though I knew what he wanted.
“That this,” he said, fingers playing idly, getting slick with my juices, “was for me.”
I might have said anything for him to get on with it, but we both knew the truth.
“It was for you,” I whispered. “Of course it was for you.”
He hummed—satisfied, vindicated by my answer—and then his mouth was finally, mercifully on me, and I let out a long, low moan. He responded in kind, a low vibration against my titillated flesh. My knees softened with each long, hard stroke of his tongue, the door taking on more of my weight as he held me in place. I grasped at the doorknob and braced myself up on the sink, my head rolling back as I tried to contain the sounds of pleasure threatening to burst from my lips.
He stopped and I all but whimpered.
“What…” I started, disoriented, as he stood. The ache between my legs throbbed with want—need—and my legs opened to straddle the thick, hard ridge of his cock. My hips ground into the delicious friction of their own accord.
“I thought you liked a good tease,” he said, holding still.
I blinked, the world returning to me in increasingly disturbed hues. “Wait. Are you going to leave me like this?”
He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking my arousal from them, one by one, his eyes never leaving mine. “Someone might notice we’ve been gone a while,” he murmured, grinding his thigh up against me one more time before pulling away.
“Oh, you are going to pay for this,” I hissed.
He flashed a dimpled grin and kissed me. “I look forward to it.”
As if on cue, the doorknob jiggled and a knock followed.
“By the way,” he said as he opened the door, his breath brushing my ear. “I’m never bored with you.”
On his way out he turned to the woman at the door. “Just give her a minute.”
The door shut behind him but another knock followed.
“Everything okay in there?” the woman said. “Was that guy bothering you?”
I put my dress to rights and stepped out, smoothing my hair. “Oh, yes—fully consensual interaction. Thank you.” I gave her an awkward salute, my body still flushed and buzzing, my brain still gathering itself. “Good luck in there.”
She looked me over with a twinkle in her eye. “I doubt I’ll get as lucky as you.”
I cleared my throat and clutched the railing on my way down the stairs—unsteady on my feet and not because of drink. When I rejoined the group my arm brushed his, the thrill setting off thoughts of things to come.
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