I feel her walls squeeze my cock, trying to milk me, and I moan into her mouth. “Kitten, you’re killing me,” I say against her lips.
“I’m close, Cole,” she pants. Her thighs start to tremble again, the muscles tightening. Her heels press deeper into the muscles of my ass. “Don’t stop.”
Not gonna happen. I rub her cunt and fuck her good, and Lauren stiffens and arches, her breath caught in her throat. I lean down to capture her nipple in my mouth, lick the tip, and she falls apart all over me. Her channel throbs on my dick and I can feel every damn ripple, and she’s biting her lip to keep from crying out her orgasm.
I continue to pound her with abandon, my body feeling tight, so gloriously tight. I’m going to come, hard, and fuck me, I want to come in her but I’m not going to do that. When I get right to the edge, when I know one more thrust will make me blow, I pull out and grip my cock in my hand.
Her eyes are heavy-lidded and she shoves my fingers out of the way, taking my dick and stroking it right over her thigh.
And I spill. My body is a plank, my balls aching, my spine stiff, my dick pulsing as stream after stream of come pours out of the head, streaking across her bare thigh. Lauren pumps my cock until I’m empty, and I sag against her, utterly spent in every way.
We remain like that for a moment. Erratic intakes of oxygen. Ambient party noises out the bathroom window. The rich, heavy scent of sex filling the spaces around us.
Lauren gives a light chuckle. “Wow. I’m…wow.”
I just nod, then pull back, brushing my lips on her brow in a light kiss. I grab the towel off the ground and both of us quickly clean up. I shove the towel in the bottom of the hamper and tug my clothes back on.
Lauren straightens her clothes too. Her hair is mussed, her lips swollen, and a streak of male pride surges in me. She looks fucked, hard. I made her look that way. I want her to walk outside like this, gripping my hand, and every man out there envious that she’s mine. She quickly re-braids her hair, but that pinkness in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, the moist swollenness of her lips, are still telltale signs.
I open my mouth to tell her we should probably hang out in here for a couple of minutes when she says, still eyeing herself in the mirror, “Okay, so you leave first, and after a little bit, I’ll follow.”
Something in my chest turns to stone. I think it’s my heart. Is she fucking joking? For the last two weeks, I’ve been in hell, missing her, wondering if I made a mistake staying away. Reality hits me hard right now. Lauren’s never going to see me as anything more than a fuck buddy. Her dirty secret, not someone she can hold hands with and actually, oh, date out in public.
I’m the worst kind of fool, because I let myself get tricked into this again despite having learned better. I am a total asshole.
“Sure, Lauren,” I find myself saying. “We could even wait until more people leave the party, so there’s fewer eyes out there to possibly suspect something happened. I’ll distract everyone so you can sneak out.”
“What?” Her brow furrows.
I shake my head. “I can’t do this with you. Not anymore. I’m done.” The words come out cruel, but I it’s the only way I can hold on to my pride. I can’t stay here and listen to this anymore.
I turn around and, stony heart chipping to pieces on the ground behind me, leave Lauren behind. For good.
Lauren
Cole closes the bathroom door behind him, and I just stare in shock.
What did I do? The look on his face, his harsh words, gutted me. I was only trying to suggest we leave separately so people wouldn’t know we came to his brother’s bathroom and had sex. But his eyes got a momentary flare of something so deep and hurt the moment before he lashed out at me that it froze me in place.
I hop off the counter, grab a washcloth, and wash down the counter under where I sat, to help me not feel like a total douche for abusing their hospitality. The whole time, my brain is spinning, trying to solve the mystery of Cole’s sudden frustration. When I’m done, I toss the washcloth in the hamper, turn off the bathroom light, then dodge out, through the bedroom once more, heading back down the hall.
It hits me then, out of nowhere.
Oh God, maybe Cole thinks I was trying to slink out of the bathroom and have us exit separately because I was ashamed of us being together or something. My stomach flips so hard I want to puke. I pick up my pace and go into the kitchen, peek in the living room. He’s not inside there, not anywhere in the house.
I can’t let things end like that, on that note. Because that’s so far from the truth, it isn’t funny. How could he possibly feel that way and not see I was trying to be thoughtful? And yet, that look on his face suggests it.