Page 1 of Frat Row
The alleyway I’m in is pitch-black, and it looks like the emergency flood lights have been knocked out, probably on purpose because of all the shady shit going on out here.
There’s only one door into the club, and we are right beside it.
There is just enough light to see the outlines of our sweaty bodies, but enough darkness to conceal us from onlookers.
It’s just us out here. The cracked and uneven pavement is digging relentlessly into my knees, the loose gravel sticking to them and causing a stinging pain.
I’ll feel the soreness tomorrow, hopefully with minimal cuts.
Lucky fucking me .
As I cup his sticky balls—no doubt due to sweat from being in South Florida—with my left hand, the tip of his cock glistens with the salty pre-cum and hits the back of my throat over and over, with his hands wrapped around my neck, not letting up on the roughness.
His musky smell overwhelms my senses. I gasp for air while tears mix with the mascara running down my face, but this guy keeps thrusting at a fast pace.
I try to focus on swirling my tongue underneath his cock; most men enjoy it.
It’s very sensitive, but with him thrusting so hard, it makes it almost impossible.
This is my favorite part—the moment of complete euphoria from bringing a man to his climax.
When they lean their heads back and their mouths open wide, groaning loudly, not being able to control the sounds coming out of them, I can tell the down-the-spine tingling is starting, which happens right before a mind-blowing orgasm.
If there is one thing I know for sure about myself, it’s how well I can suck dick.
It’s the complete control that gets me off—the power.
But tonight isn’t about my pleasure; it’s about ensuring he gets his.
When it comes to anything sexual, women hold all of the power.
It’s just how you use it to your advantage.
Some women love diamonds around their necks; I love hands.
“Goddamn, Cassidy,” he groans as he releases and jerks himself forward, hitting the back of my throat, making sure I swallow every drop he has to offer.
After sucking down every single drop, making sure none of it hits my heels, I lick my full, swollen lips like it was the best five-course meal so he thinks I enjoyed myself and stand.
I pull my black leather skirt down, run a hand through my chestnut hair a few times, trying to look as though I didn’t just get my face fucked, and wipe the mascara from my face, removing some of the concealer that makes my hazel eyes pop.
Wiping the inner corners of my water lines, I pull out the compact mirror from my purse and reapply mascara.
Fuck me.
With my hand on my hip, I look him straight in his eyes with utter confidence rolling off of me. “A deal is a deal,” I say to him, trying to catch my breath like I just ran a damn marathon since I made him come quicker than the time it takes to tie your shoelaces.
“Give me 10 minutes to get back to my post, and I’ll let you and your little friend into the basement,” he says as he shoves his cock away, adjusting it just right, and zips up his jeans, looking delirious and satisfied.
I smirk, knowing how good of a job I had done. Seriously, what a bargain—for him.
His lip quirks up playfully as he meets my eyes, and he asks, “Maybe we could make this a regular thing?” He looks so hopeful with a gleam in his eyes.
Cute .
I grin at him, trying to hold back a face of utter disgust. “Don’t hold your breath,” I tell him arrogantly as I roll my eyes and adjust my sheer black long-sleeve top with a lace bra underneath that makes my boobs look perky, making sure to tuck it back into my skirt.
He huffs and shakes his head with immediate disappointment on his face before walking back into the club and angrily opening the door, rushing to get back to his security position at the popular club known as The Dungeon.