Dirty by Megan Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

head to the side to allow him access to my neck.
    The hand he’d used to loose himself now inched up my skirt. My fingers curled against slippery tile, finding nothing to grab. I bit back a moan when air hit my skin, the soft expanse of bare thigh and buttock exposed by my stockings and the edge of my panties. His palm caressed me, traced the curve of my ass.
    I breathed in and in and in, forgetting to let the air from my lungs come out, too, until at last it hissed from between my lips in a long, shuddering sigh.
    “You want this.”
    His words were not a question, yet they demanded an answer.
    “Yes.”
    He put a finger inside me, then two, stretching me a little. He stroked me, in and out, a parody of what he would do with his cock. And I, shameless, trembled at that small touch and pushed myself against his hand to take him in as far as I could.
    “My purse,” I murmured, wondering if he’d balk and preparing for this all to end if he did.
    He withdrew. I sighed a protest. He laughed, the sound broken by the harsh intake of his breath.
    “Give me half a minute, Elle,” he whispered into my ear.
    I heard the jingle of my keys, then the crinkle of paper and sound of tearing, then a low groan as he eased on the condom. He paused, breath still hot against my neck, and a bolt of electric desire arced through me. It centered in my clit and radiated out through the rest of my body. Even my fingertips tingled. I imagined if the lights were off, I’d be glowing with it.
    He pulled my panties over my hips and down past my knees, then pressed his cock against me. He nudged it along the cleft of my ass, then pushed between my thighs. His hand guided it toward my entrance, and he dipped down, then up, to push inside me.
    “Fuck,” he muttered, then bit down on my shoulder as though to stifle a further outburst.
    I gave a strangled cry when he filled me. It had been so long I was almost too tight, but I was so wet with arousal there was no friction. Only a delicious fullness.
    He put his hands over my wrists, his front along my back, and slid my hands down on the wall until I bent more at the waist. I hadn’t thought he could move inside me any more, but that small shift in angle let him nudge my tender cervix, and I gave another low cry at the tiny spark of pain that did nothing to diminish the pleasure.
    “Christ, you’re hot,” he murmured. “Like a fucking furnace…”
    He began to move. Slow, smooth strokes at first, his hands anchoring my hips to keep me from moving. Then, after a few moments, faster. Harder. One hand slipped around front to press my clit in time to his thrusts.
    The door to the restroom opened. Dan stopped for a moment, then kept on, pulling out and pushing inside me with excruciating slowness. His finger circled faster.
    I heard voices, two chattering women who used the stalls at the far end of the room without a break in their conversation. One of them peed forever, a waterfall of piss, and a bubble of laughter leaked out of me.
    My shoulders shook with the effort of keeping it inside. His breath puffed in silent glee on my neck. Stars, the result of lack of oxygen, danced in my vision and I drew in breath after shallow breath, trying not to make a sound.
    I laughed, and laughing made me come, writhing against his hand and moving on his cock while he kept his movements almost stationary for silence.
    They used the sink, still chattering. If they heard us, they paid no attention. Perhaps we managed to be quiet enough, or maybe the saga and drama of their lives was so enthralling nothing could tear their attention from it. I only know that the second the door closed behind them Dan began fucking me in earnest.
    Hard and fast. The hand on my hip gripped tight enough to leave a bruise. The stroking hand stopped and held me. I came again, smaller but no less pleasurable, and throbbed on his palm.
    His teeth grazed my neck. His mouth moved to my shoulder, and he muffled his outcry against my shirt.