Page 17 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

His palms grab my ass cheeks and spread them as far apart as they’ll go, opening me to him.

The graze of his nose on my clit nearly sets me off.

I tighten my grip on the top of the stall door when he licks me up and down a few teasing times before finally fluttering the tip over that needy bundle of nerves.

I swear I come harder than ever before, gushing all over his face as the shudders of pleasure wrack my body. I can’t even be self-conscious about how I’m soaking his face because it feels too good.

And Tristan doesn’t stop at just one orgasm. Like the other night, he laps at me, kisses, and sucks my clit until my thighs tremble around his head once more.

Tristan

Kirsten is out like a light after the second time she comes on my tongue. The first time she flooded my face, her juices running down my chin before I could lick it all up.

Goddamn, that was so hot.

But now she’s unconscious, sitting on my face, and I’ve got to figure out what to do with her until she wakes.

The woman should see a doctor about her orgasm narcolepsy or whatever condition she has. If I had to bet, she just works so fucking hard and never relaxes, so the release helps calm her, forcing her into a restful sleep.

I lower her from my shoulders and down my body so not to whip her limp neck around. Finally, I get her cradled to my chest.

I should take her home, but I know she wouldn’t want any of the snobs at the fundraiser to see us together. So, I put the lid of the toilet down with the toe of my shoe and sit down, using my time to just look at her face, inches from mine.

God, she’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. And when she’s sleeping rather than scowling, she even looks sweet.

She’s going to be so furious when she wakes, though, angry at herself for letting me lick her pussy again in public and then passing out.

If anyone should be angry, it’s me. I’m the one with a hard cock and blue balls, no relief in sight.

Well, screw that.

Reaching underneath her, I unzip my pants and pull my aching length out stroking it in my fist a few times. But fuck, my calloused hand is drier than sandpaper.

And there’s something soaking wet nearby. Two things, but since I can’t put my dick on my face, I pull the back of Kirsten’s dress up until her bare ass meets my erection.

I groan at the dampness on her smooth skin, dripping down her ass cheeks. Oh, and her inner thighs, they’re even slicker. So slick, I can’t resist slipping my cock up between them. My arms strain as I lift and lower her up and down my shaft until it’s slick.

Holding her close to my chest, her thighs are nice and tight around me, feeling almost as wet and warm as her pussy would feel. But the first time I slam inside her, I want her to be wide awake and begging me to fuck her.

Right now, I’m just using the mess I made to find a little relief of my own.

Goddamn. I’m already so close…so fucking close. On my next slide though, I brush Kirsten’s clit, and she squirms in my arms.

Oh shit, she’s going to wake and rip off my dick. And I won’t be able to protect myself, since I refuse to drop her on the dirty bathroom floor and dirty up her pale blue dress. At least it’s not white.

Kirsten’s thighs tighten around my cock all on their own, and her hips buck, pressing my length to her clit again and again.

“Oh, fuck me,” I groan as my release barrels down my spine, drawing up my balls.

Kirsten’s eyes open halfway, and she watches me as I lift and lower her, waiting for her to catch on to what I’m doing.

When she lifts her arms, I’m expecting her to choke me. Instead, she grabs my neck, holding on tight and pulling my mouth to hers.

Our tongues meet as her hips wiggle around, sliding her pussy up and down me until my cock swells and explodes between her legs. Her thighs clench repeatedly as she comes again, whimpering through it into my mouth.

When we both pull away to catch our breath after the last of the waves of pleasure fade, Kirsten’s lips part to say something just as the bathroom door opens.

She closes her mouth, and we stare at each other silently as we wait for the woman in the stall next to us finish pissing, wash her hands, then leave.

“I fell asleep again?” she asks.

“Yes, you did.”

“I don’t know why that keeps happening. It never has before.”

“No man has ever made you come more than once in a night.”

“Barely once.”

“Then, that’s why it only happens with me,” I tell her with a cocky grin.

“I think I would’ve woken up sooner if you had shoved inside me.”

“I prefer you awake and begging me to fuck you.”

“That’ll never happen. The begging or the fucking. That was the last time you’re ever going to touch me or stalk me, or you will lose your nuts,” she says while still keeping a firm grasp on my neck.

A boulder slams into my guts at the resolve in her voice. I need to stop following her, but it’s just impossible for me to stay away.

“You’re gonna miss my tongue,” I remark through the panic building inside me of never talking to her or tasting her again.

“Not as much as I’ll miss my dignity.”

Fuck, there’s nothing I can say to that. So, I grab a handful of toilet paper from the roll, clean up some of the mess between her legs, and help her to her feet.

Opening the stall door, I give her ass one last slap. “You’ve got my number if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.” She grins over her shoulder at me.