by Madison Faye
I walk closer and closer to him, my eyes sweeping over his stunning painting. He’s standing next to a parked motorcycle, and I watch as he caps the bottle in his hand and sticks in the saddlebag hanging of the back of the bike. He pulls out another one, his big biceps rippling as he gives it a shake and then begins to spray again.
Suddenly, my foot steps on a piece of broken glass, shattering the silence. The man whirls towards me, and when he does, and when my eyes lock on his, the breath just catches in my throat.
Holy shit.
He’s gorgeous. Tattooed, rough-looking, intense, and gorgeous. And when his piercing blue eyes blaze into mine, I gasp quietly as I stop suddenly.
He’s young, too. Maybe younger than me even. But so crazy hot it makes my knees weak. Perfect, chiseled face, aristocratic cheekbones, soft defined lips, and those piercing blue eyes. And built in this “Fight Club, Brad Pitt” kind of way. His eyes burn into mine, and the slightest little smirk teases those utterly captivating lips as he cocks his hips to the side and brings his empty hand up to rake his fingers through his dark hair.
I want to sketch him.
No, you want to fuck him.
I blush furiously at the X-rated thought before he clears his throat and nods his chin at me.
“You a cop?”
I laugh, a little too loudly, before I catch myself.
“Uh, no?”
He nods, his eyes dragging over every inch of me in a way that has my skin tingling before he turns. He caps his spray bottle, sticks it in his bike’s saddlebag, and starts to zip it up before I frown and shake my head.
“Wait, are you done?”
“No, I just wasn’t looking for an audience.”
I bite my lip. “Sorry, I—look, I’ll leave.”
I turn, but I stop myself, taking a breath before I turn back.
“You’re really good.”
“I know.”
The smile creeps over my lips as I roll my eyes at the grin on his face.
“Cocky, too.”
His grin widens. “I know that too.”
I blush as I nod at the mural—this dream-like wooded scene of mountains and forests and swirling ethereal clouds. This isn’t just some asshole tagging up a wall, he’s painting a freaking masterpiece back here.
“That’s really gorgeous. And spray paint is a tough medium.”
He shrugs. “It just takes getting used to.”
He eyes me. “You know how to draw?”
“A little.”
Just an undergraduate degree in fine art with an MFA in Renaissance painting.
He grins wolfishly as he grabs a spray can out of the bag and hands it my way before he nods his head at the wall.
“Go ahead.”
I sputter, blushing.
“Oh, I—I don’t know. I’ve never really used spray—”
“I’ll show you.”
His deep voice rumbles through the air between us, and I swallow as heat teases through me. He’s definitely younger than me, that I can see. But at least a foot taller, and built, and so freaking hot. He pushes the can into my hand, and before I know it, he’s taken my arm in his firm, warm grip and tugged me closer to the mural.
“Go head. Try adding some trees over here.”
I take a shaky breath, raise the can, and spray. I gasp when the dark green come out in a burst against the wall, and I laugh nervously.
“Can’t we get in trouble for this?”
“Probably,” he purrs, close behind me in a way that makes my thighs clench and my pulse skip.
“Isn’t that more fun though?”
He moves closer to me, and I gasp quietly as I raise the can and spray again. This time, I start to get the hang of how keeping my arm moving, and as the paint sprays out, I start to make lines, and then more of them. The trees start to take shape, and I find myself mimicking his style as I go. The lines aren’t great, but I make do. And really, it’s like sketching with charcoal, only its more liquidy.
I give it one more arc of my arm before I step back. The stranger whistles behind me.
“Well, shit you’re really good.”
I turn, shrugging casually. “Thanks, I know,” I say sarcastically, and he grins.
“Cocky, too,” he growls lowly as he steps towards me. Our eyes meet and lock, and when he takes another step right into my personal space, my heart races as a shiver teases down my spine.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know.”
He steps right into me, and when he pulls the can out of my hand, I don’t stop him. Just like I don’t stop him when his other hand slides over my waist and pulls me close. The liquor and adrenaline courses through me like fire, my heart racing and heat pooling between my legs like I’ve never felt before.
“Sexy, too,” he purrs quietly and intensely, staring right into me as my body trembles. I blush, swallowing thickly, and I suddenly reach up to pluck my thick-rimmed glasses off. But he shakes his head, his hand coming up to stop mine.
“You need those, right?”
I shrug. “Yeah, but they’re…” I roll my eyes. “I mean they’re kinda dork—”
“They’re kinda hot is what they are,” he growls as he moves right against me, making me gasp as he pushes me back until I’m flat against the wall next to the mural.
“Who—” I swallow, eyes burning into his, the heat between us reaching a boiling point as his hand tightens on my waist, the other flat against the wall next to me as he leans close.
“Who are you?”
His eyes spark, and that same wicked grin creeps over his gorgeous lips and jaw.
“Does it matter?”
“No,” I barely gasp out before our lips crush tougher in the fiercest, wildest, hottest kiss I’ve ever felt in my life. I moan into him, my mouth opening eagerly for his demanding tongue as his rock-hard body presses to mine. The hand at my waist slides down to cup my ass, squeezing it like it belongs to him and bringing another whimpered moan to my lips. He slides it down the back of my thigh, lifting my leg until I gasp and hook it around his muscled waist. He grinds against me, and I kiss him even more eagerly as I feel the thick, throbbing bulge in his jeans between my legs.
His hand slides back up my thigh, teasing its way to the inside, until with a whimper and a gasping moan, I feel his big fingers stroke against the slick, wet gusset of my panties, teasing my aching pussy right through the material. He growls into the kiss, and when his fingers slip under the lacy edge of my panties, and stroke possessively over my bare lips, I know I’m going to let him do anything he wants to me and love every fucking second of it.
I pull back for one second, our eyes locking before mine dart over his gorgeous face. Dark hair, a perfect amount of stubble on his strong, chiseled jaw, and those piercing blue eyes that take my breath away. And he’s young. Up close, he’s definitely younger than me.
I pause, biting my lip and moaning as his fingers spread my lips. One teases over me, making me gasp and that groan in pleasure as it rolls over my clit.
“Wait, how—”
My eyes flutter shut in pleasure as he teases my clit, my voice failing.
“…How old are you?” I manage to gasp out quietly as my hands drop to his belt, tugging at it eagerly as his lips tease over my neck.
“Old enough,” he growls into my ear, making me moan as his breath teases over me.
“How old—”
“Old enough to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, beautiful.”
His lips find mine, our mouths sear together, and when I yank at his zipper and feel his fingers start to curl deep inside of me, I already know I’m lost.
Hopelessly, willingly, achingly lost.
2
Emily
His tongue swirls with mine, and I moan as I feel the rippling muscles of his abs flexing under my fingers as they rake over his skin. I yank at his buckle, a million “what are you doings” screaming through my head. But I push them all away as my hands slip lower to h
is zipper.
What I’m doing is crazy, but maybe that’s exactly what I need right now. I need some crazy. I need some bad decisions.
…I need the man with the gorgeous, piercing blue eyes and the abs off of Zac Efron pinning me to the wall of the alley while he kisses me like no one’s ever kissed me before.
His fingers ease into my pussy, curling deep and stroking against that magic spot just inside. I cry out, whimpering into his mouth as I eagerly yank down his zipper. I push my hands into his jeans, but when I feel the huge bulge throbbing against the cotton of his boxers, a thrill of heat blazes through me.
Holy fuck.
I swallow, panting into his lips as my fingers trace the edge of his boxers, before finally sliding in. They trace down the grooves of his lower abs, following the treasure trail of hair down lower, and lower as my pulse thunders through me and my stranger growls into my lips. His palm grinds against my clit, making me wetter and wetter until my panties and his hand are soaked in my arousal.
My hands push lower, skimming his boxers and jeans down over his hips, until suddenly, my fingers find what I’ve been looking for.
…My pulse skips.
Good. Freaking. Lord.
He’s huge. Well, thick, that’s for freaking sure. I tremble as my hand goes to circle his cock, realizing my fingers don’t even touch. He growls into me, his big fingers slipping in and out of me so perfectly as my own hand slides down his fat cock. And down. And down, until with a moan, my fingers finally find the head of him.
Okay, not just thick. Thick and so fucking long.
His hand moves to his jeans, helping me push them down until his big dick springs out to slap hotly against my thigh. I whimper, my hand finding him again and stroking him against my skin. I can feel the sticky hot drips of his precum on my thigh, and when he pushes between my legs, I willingly pull him in.
His fingers slide wetly from my pussy to pull my panties to the side. He eases the thick, swollen head of his cock against my lips, and I reach up with one hand to cup his jaw as I kiss him hungrily.
“I want you to fuck me,” I whimper softly.
“I know.”
He growls the words into my lips just as he eases his hips forward, and when that big cock pushes into me, I cry out in pure pleasure. He grunts, that huge cock pulsing just inside of me before he pushes again, sliding another inch into me as my walls ripple around him and my hands eagerly grip his muscled waist. With an animalistic grunt, he drives in, and this time, he doesn’t stop, pushing in and in and in as I moan in pleasure until every damn inch of his beautiful cock is buried to the hilt inside of me.
“Now let me feel this sweet little pussy come for me, beautiful.”
He pulls out, biting at my bottom lip, his hands gripping my ass tight before he suddenly drives right back in. I cry out in pleasure, my body rolling to meet him and my mind going blissfully blank. His huge cock pushes deeper into me than anything I’ve ever felt, teasing me and stroking me in ways I’ve never even imagined as his muscled body coils against me. He draws out and then slams right back in, and everything starts to fade to pure bliss.
We claw at each other, hands gripping at sweaty skin and lips moaning into the others. I don’t even know when it happens, but at some point, I realize I’ve got both feet off the ground and wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping my ass tightly as he fucks me hard against the wall. My hands shove up under his t-shirt, nails raking over his perfect, muscled chest and abs as I kiss him with everything I have.
He’s release. He’s a balm on the chaos that is my life right now. He’s the mistake I’ve been dying to make.
His big cock plunges wetly into me, the sound of it obscene and filthy in my ears as it mingles with our raw, animalistic groans of pleasure. His heavy balls slap my ass, his fingers dig into my skin, and his lips leave marks down my neck and collarbone that I know I’ll regret later but desperately want more of right now.
“You want to come for my cock, beautiful?” he grunts into my lips, making me whimper. “Let me feel this pretty pussy come for me. Be a good girl and fucking come for me.”
His filthy words tease through my ears, he thrusts deep, my aching clit grinds against his thick shaft, and suddenly, it all explodes around me. I cry out into his lips, moaning and whimpering into his mouth as the orgasm slams into me. I pull away, gasping and clinging to him as he just keeps fucking me right through my climax, nailing me to the fucking wall with that big, beautiful cock as I come again and again and again.
With a roar, he drives in deep. I feel him swell and thicken inside of me even more, and suddenly, I feel it. I moan as I feel the first pulse of his hot cum jet into me, and I swear it feels like he’s filling me to the brim with just one blast. He growls into my lips, thrusting again as another spurt of his cum pumps into me.
He pulls out, and I whimper as rope after thick, sticky rope of his cum lands in streaks over my stomach, my pussy, and my panties still pulled to the side. His lips find mine, and when he kisses me deeply, he slides his cock back inside, making me whimper as aftershocks tease through me before we come to a staggering stop.
Panting, I kiss him with everything I have, trying to process the fact that I just had hands down, without question, the hottest sex of my life. With a stranger. In an alley.
With a final kiss, he slowly pulls out of me, and I gasp as I feel his hot cum begin to drip out of me. He tugs my panties back into place, cupping them with his hand and grinning hungrily at me as he feels them start to soak through with his cum.
He sets my feet back down, takes my hand, and tugs me over to his bike. We both sit against it, panting, and when his arm circles my waist and pulls me close, I blush as I drop my head to his shoulder.
“Fuck,” I gasp quietly.
My gorgeous stranger just chuckles, his hand stroking my side as he turns to kiss the top of my head.
“Fuck is right,” he growls quietly.
He reaches into the saddlebag on his bike and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. My face sours as I watch him bring the pack to his mouth and use his lips to draw one out. He glances down at me and grins when he sees the look on my face.
“What?”
“That’s a disgusting habit, you know. It’s dirty.”
His brows arch in amusement. “Yeah? How about fucking strangers in alleyways?”
I blush fiercely, but when I see him put the cigarette back in the pack and toss it back in his bag, I grin. He turns back to me, and when he leans down and tilts my head up with two fingers under my chin, I moan as his lips find mine.
“Give me your number.”
I pull away, blushing and I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. I eye him, but slowly, I shake my head.
“Uh-uh. No.”
He grins.
“Yeah? Why not.”
“I don’t—I mean, I never do this.”
“Do what.”
The heat blooms in my face.
“One-night stands.”
I lean and kiss him softly before I pull away. Part of me stings when I do, but the rest of me already has its mind made up. As gorgeous and as mysterious as he is, and as fucking amazing as that just was, this was a one-time thing.
My first one-time thing, but a one-time thing nonetheless.
I stand, taking a shaking breath and smoothing out my skirt. I blush as I adjust my panties, feeling his hot cum soaking into them right against my pussy. He stands too, and when I turn to look at him, I shiver at the intensity in those blue eyes.
“So let’s make it not a one night thing.”
I blush, raking my teeth over my lip.
“I—” I shake my head, swallowing. “I have to go.”
He says nothing as I pull close to him, tilt my head up, and kiss him softly. He growls quietly, his hands sliding over me and pushing down to cup my ass through my skirt.
Slowly, we come apart, and I start to back away back up to the main street, my eyes never leaving his.
“Tonight was…”
I blush furiously.
“Nice to meet you, stranger.”
The slightest hint of a smile teases those gorgeous lips, and when he folds his tattooed arms over his broad chest and leans back against his bike like the hottest James Dean fantasy in the world, I regret every single step that pulls me away from him.
But, c’mon. This is the definition of a one-time thing.
“Nice to meet you too,” he growls, his eyes burning into me.
“See you around, stranger.”
* * *
There’s a buzz in my veins and a spring in my step as I walk into work the next day. I know I’m grinning like, well, like I just got laid, but screw it.
All I know is, last night was amazing, and nothing is going to take the glow away from me today.
I get to the art room early to prepare some things for lessons today, since I was out so late last night. I organize my notes and go over the PowerPoint slides of the Impressionist paintings we’ll be going over today. I glance at the clock, still smiling as I see that I’ve got a few extra minutes to start tackling some projects before any students arrive.
My eyes land on the row of lockers at the back of the room that hold painting smocks and other “mess” clothes. Especially, at the box of papers sitting on top of the lockers that I’ve had a mental “deal with this” note about for months. I march back there, dragging a chair over and standing precariously on it in my heels—hey, it’s a lesson day—as I reach into the box and start pulling out crap.
The bell rings, and it’s not long before I hear the door open and students start to file in for first period.
“Morning Ms. Hayes.”
“Hey Professor.”
I smile, half turning and nodding at a few students as they filter in before turning back to the box and reaching for the last file folder of old papers.
“Hey, teach.”
I frown at the “teach” part, but I don’t turn around.
“Yes?”
“I’m supposed to give you this.”
I roll my eyes at the casual, almost cocky tone.
“I’m, uh… okay. Can you just put it on the desk? I’m a little tied up.”
