When his fingers found the edge of the stockings, brushed over the taut clips of the garter, he pulled back, arched a brow. “What's this?” he asked.
I couldn't answer.
“Show me.”
My mouth fell open but no words came out.
“Show me,” he repeated. “Lift your skirt and show me the sexy, naughty things you're wearing.”
It was the heat in his eyes, a look I'd never seen before, that had me doing as he'd asked. Slowly I lifted the hem of my skirt. At first, his brown eyes held my gaze like a magnet, then dropped to watch as more of my thighs were revealed. I could feel the air on my bare skin above the stockings and he groaned as my garter was revealed. He kissed me before my skirt lifted enough for him to see my matching panties. It seemed just the stockings and garter was enough. Too much.
It made me feel feminine and very powerful.
His kiss intensified as he pushed me back against the wall, his hand roaming the back of my ass, dipping lower to touch my pussy from behind.
It was my turn to whimper with need when his fingers discovered the tiny scrap of material that passed for g-string underwear beneath my skirt. Impatient, he shoved the material aside with deft fingers and explored my wet folds.
“Emma.”
“Carter.”
“You're dripping. Is this all for me?” He rubbed his fingers through my slick folds, over my clit. Back and forth, not entering me.
Of course I was wet for him. No one else had ever made me like this.
“Let me make you feel good.”
I couldn’t talk, not with his fingers so close to where I needed him to be.
“Emma?”
“Carter.” I sighed into his mouth and claimed a kiss of my own as I shifted my hips back and forth, riding his fingers. I wanted this. Needed it. I didn’t care if it was foolish and reckless. I was more than ready to break my own rules tonight. Wild, sexy women didn’t have rules. And Carter made me feel like I was both.
Then his hand was gone.
“No.” I was so needy, so wound up, I would literally break into tears if he left me now.
“Shhh, Emma. I’ve got you.”
I sighed as his touch returned, this time running up the inside of my thigh from the front. I lowered my leg to the floor, my feet wide to give him access to my wet core.
“Look at me,” he ordered and I opened my eyes to comply. His gaze locked onto mine as he gently filled me with one finger. I held on, gripping his rock hard biceps, keeping my eyes on his gorgeous face until he pushed the thickness of his hard palm to my clit and started fucking me with his hand.
I thought I couldn’t get any hotter, and more desperate, but his free hand lifted to my breast, squeezed the hard nipple through the thin material of my dress and lace bra.
When I gasped, he lowered his head once more, kissing me as his finger moved inside me.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door and I stiffened, but Carter squeezed my nipple again and nipped at my lip. He pulled away, staring down at me as he used more force to fuck me, nearly lifting me off my feet. “You’re mine right now. Ignore them.”
As if to prove his point, he increased the speed of his moving fingers, the rhythm of his palm rubbing my clit. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head up for his kiss. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I was in a bar, in the damn bathroom. I only wanted to think about Carter, about his hands, his mouth, his dominant touch.
He rubbed and fucked me with fingers and tongue until I felt completely overwhelmed, as if he was already inside me.
Hard. Fast. Stop.
Slow. Fast. Stop.
His touch drove me mad, until I whimpered and begged. “Carter, please.”
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes.”
“You’re mine, Emma. Say you’re mine.”
“Yes.” I would have agreed to anything. I was so close. The orgasm building inside me like a tornado caught inside a paper house. I wasn’t going to be able to hold on.
Carter shifted again, his body pressed to mine, his arm trapped between us. His forehead met mine, but I did not open my eyes. I didn’t want to know if he was watching me. I didn’t care.
“Then come for me. I want to watch you give everything to me.”
He increased his rhythm, but this time, he didn’t stop, didn’t slow when I whimpered, when the desire built to a fever pitch. This time, he pushed me over and stole my cry, swallowed it down in his kiss as my pussy pulsed around his finger. This was nothing like my vibrator. Nothing.
His soft groan made me feel sexy, edgy, dangerous. And I knew, if we’d been truly alone, I would have let him do anything he wanted. I would spread my legs and beg him to take my virginity, to make me his.
That last thought was like a splash of ice-cold water. As was the insistent knocking at the door. “Hello? Are you all right in there?”