Page 4 of After Hours
Go back to the boat, now,she ordered herself.And in the morning, call your therapist. This isnotwhat she meant when she suggested low-impact social activities.
But she didn’t move.
For a few, almost painful breaths, she stayed where she was—plastered against the rough, uneven surface of the wall beside the door and under the stairs. She knew that she needed to hurry and leave before he saw her. Or before someone else did and called the cops.
But when she did move, she didn’t walk away like a normal person.
Instead, she snuck another peek.
It was like she couldn’t help herself.
Inside, the situation had changed. The woman was kneeling down, her hands on the man's thighs. She looked as if she was begging him. Pleading for something, and somehow, Romily knew what she wanted.
It was what Romily wanted too.
More of that big, thick cock of his that she was sure she would dream about forever.
The way he had pounded it into the blonde, so deep and sure, keeping up that relentless rhythm she could feel in her own pussy. Like he was doing it to her.
God, but she wished he was.
And there was something else.
Something that made everything in her tight and hot.
The woman was completely naked.Hewas not.
Romily understood, despite not being able to hear what they were saying to each other, that he had made the woman come, because of course he had. He didn’t look like the kind of lover who would see only to himself, and besides, the blonde looked flushed. Glassy-eyed.
Now, clearly, she was begging for the chance to return the favor.
And Romily didn’t understand what was happening in her own body, then. Whyshewas so flushed too. Whyherbreastsached, her nipples tight and hard. Why she could feel her pussy soften with a rush of damp heat.
Romily couldn’t have moved if she tried—but she didn’t try.
She stayed where she was. It would have taken half of the Oakland PD to tear her away from the door.
Inside, he was leaning against the wall, the woman at his feet. His arms were crossed over the expanse of his chest. He held the blonde’s pleading gaze.
Only when the woman looked desperate did he raise one dark brow. She subsided, though Romily could see the way she shivered.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
And Romily watched, spellbound and dry-mouthed, as the woman reached up, hands shaking, and pulled the man’s enormous cock out of his jeans.
He was even bigger than he’d looked while he was buried deep inside the blonde. So big that Romily felt her own mouth drop open as she tried to imagine what the woman felt, as she tried to take him in her mouth, to fit him all in.
The stretch. The thick fullness of him. The taste.
The rough masculine scent of him, everywhere.
God, she was so turned on she was shaking, out here in the dark shadows of the alley with only that insistent baseline for company.
Inside, the man shifted, wrapping his hand in the woman’s hair once more. He put his other hand to her jaw.
And then, with a certain tender brutality, he began to fuck the woman’s face.
There was no doubt that he was controlling everything. The depth, the angle.
