I pull back and assess the still-empty dance floor and sofas along the side and take his hand.
“Where are we …”
With his hand in mine, his voice disappears under the music from the speaker on our right as I cross over the dance floor and to the hallway for the toilets. Halfway down the hallway I jerk to a stop, and Donovan’s erection nudges my ass.
I spin and grin, a knowing look; I felt that.
“Are you going to ask me to come back to your room, Donovan?”
He looks stunned. “Fuck off,” he replies.
“As I thought,” I say, kissing down his neck.
Shit, I forgot he sprays there, forgot I’m now used to Nate and the temptation of his alluring scent, without the chemical taste of the alcohol since he sprays everywhere but my favourite spot, tantalising me.
I hold my gaze on Donovan’s eyes as I un-pop his button and slide my hand under, cupping him over his jocks.
He starts and makes a noise of pleasure, of shock, too. I rub soothingly up and down over the material until he arches his head back and moans, “Yes, fuck, please touch under.”
That’s when I stop.
“Lick me, then,” I say, looking down. “Right here.”
He drops to his knees and pushes my G-string to the side with his fingers. I watch over him, also watching him slide his own hand in his pants and get himself off as he begins licking me.
I close my eyes but all I see is Nate’s face. I’d rather him there. I pretend it’s Nate, but it’s difficult staying in the moment because a) no one has walked past and I’m panicking, and b) he’s just not doing it for me.
He stops licking for a moment and tries a new style that rips me out of my forced erotic vision of Nate licking me. I see a shadow between fluttering my eyelids shut, and open them fully, watching a guy at the entrance to the hallway.
Good. I wink at him, which somehow makes him feel at ease and he slips past us on one side of the wall to the men’s room. My muscles spasm down there, knowing I’ve been caught, replaying the moment he saw me with Donovan’s head under my skirt, and I can’t not get off now. Two “almosts” will kill me, so I slide my hand under the waist of my skirt and bring myself to climax, thrusting Donovan’s head harder against my skin although it’s my frantic fingers buzzing at my spot with Nate’s image hot and wanting for me down there that makes me slam my head against the wall and cry out.
Shudders rack my body, and I fight the urge to slip as my thighs and calves clench to keep upright.
As my legs begin to find their strength, my mind comes back and I wonder. Wonder why Donovan has left his tongue plastered to my entrance like it’s been glued, until I feel him shaking and look down, watching his hand jerking inside his pants. That same guy comes out but this time he won’t move, instead stunned at the men’s room door, the light from inside closing out. Finally, moments later, he disappears into the blackness.
Donovan moans and I rub his head into me, urging his own climax on, moaning for more, and he licks furiously though he can’t give me anything at the moment. I pretend for his sake and he cries, “Oh my God, Kalli, I’m coming” and in his mad jerking off, his briefs slip down, his length slips out and he shoots out between my legs to the corner of the carpet and the wall.
It turns me on to the point where I’m hot again, and could almost get myself off feeling that guy watching us, hearing the music and the people unaware behind the wall, and seeing Donovan’s come messed on the floor between my legs.
Donovan adjusts his pants and stands. “Um, so wow.”
I don’t have to act worked up. I am, just not from him, as it’s always been.
Always except for with Nate. I get off from Nate.
“Wow,” I reply.
“You are a crazy bitch,” Donovan says, pecking my lips. I can taste myself on him and am reminded for a split second of Nate’s head down there.
Get a grip. Forget about Nate. You can’t give him a relationship, the voice says.
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to return the favour just then,” Donovan cuts into my thoughts. I look back at him as he says, “You were too fucking hot. I couldn’t wait.”
I flash a cheeky grin and say, “All good. See ya round, yeah?”
“Maybe later?” he asks.
I shrug.
He seems saddened and watches me go. I don’t look back.
I’m proud and hope I look cocky because I feel like a mess. Even more of a broken, dirty mess than I already am. Because I succeeded. I’m too ruined for Nate now. I always was and now I’m more so.
But I don’t feel the rush of pleasure I need to in the wake of what I’ve done.