His voice is rugged, domineering. But, Jesus, it turns me on.
With one swift push, I’m bent over the counter. I try to move, but he holds me hostage.
“Ryan…”
“Shh…like this. I have to have you like this.”
His confidence dies in his throat. There’s no domination in his voice, he isn’t ordering me. It’s a request – almost desperate – as if this man only allows himself to feel whatever he can control.
I’m crushed underneath him. I can feel his hips pressing into my lower back, the friction of his skin rubbing against mine, his dick sliding tirelessly in and out of me – because even if this situation is nothing more than a fantasy, I’m so turned on that I could come at any moment.
He lets go of my hands, lifting himself off me. I breathe deeply, and try to stand back up, but his hand pushes firmly down on my back.
“Don’t. Stay like that.”
And then his other hand is on my clit.
Oh my God.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
My legs almost give way.
“Tell me that you want it, Christine.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Touch me, Ryan…”
I don’t finish my sentence because two fingers are sliding into me.
Ryan keeps going inside me, alternating between his dick and his fingers – and I don’t know which I prefer.
I knew those hands would be my downfall.
Suddenly his thrusts are faster, relentless. His hand moves excitedly, his fingers devouring me, and I feel heat rise and explode between my legs, just seconds before he folds himself over me, breathing hard into my ear.
He slowly lifts himself off me, stepping back a few paces, leaving me covered by emptiness. I get up too, with my cheeks on fire, and turn to him, waiting for him to say something, to look at me, to tell me that we shared something more than just an orgasm. But the ice that falls over us confirms just what I feared.
“Are the toilets over there?” he asks, his eyes on the floor.
“Uh-huh,” I say, feeling tears prick at my eyes.
He walks off towards the café toilets, while I desperately attempt to reclaim my dignity.
A few minutes later, he comes back, buttoning his jeans. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply.
“I don’t know how that happened…” he begins – and from the tone of his voice, I already know what he’s going to say. “It was crazy, I lost control…”
“So when you lose control you just fuck the first person you see?”
“Not really…” he says, finally meeting my gaze. “But I guess you know that this is…just this. Nothing more.”
I nod. I can’t speak.
“I just wanted to be clear.”
“You’ve been very clear,” I manage, miraculously without bursting into tears.
“Well…maybe it’s best if I…”
“Sure, you don’t have to stay. Let’s not kid ourselves.” I avert my gaze, because I can’t bear the weight of his eyes, of what he’s saying:You’re just someone to fuck then leave, Christine – nothing more.
“Christine…”
“Goodnight, Ryan.”
After a few seconds of silence, the door opens and Ryan goes, leaving me with my stupidity, my shattered pride and my heart hidden away in a dark corner – that way, no one can ever find it.
