by Mariah V Fox
Finally, his fingers manage to snake their way inside my cumbersome jeans, brushing over my barely covered snatch. My lacey bodysuit doesn’t stand a chance and he undoes it like he’s actually experienced one before. He doesn’t waste a second before slipping his hands inside my sopping wet panties.
My whimpers alert strangers to our whereabouts but I couldn’t stop myself from making them if I tried. His rough weatherworn fingertips find my clit and I suck my lips in to keep from screaming. Whimpers are one thing, full on cursing all that is holy would definitely attract more attention than I would want at a time like this.
“Fuck, Finn,” I whisper, writhing my hips against him, wanting more of him.
He takes the hints my body’s giving him, palming my sex as his digits work my clitoris. I’m so wet that he’s slipping and sliding all over the place as he pleasures me.
I could tumble over the edge at any second and that is not an exaggeration. Have you known me to be an exaggerator? Okay, you’re right. But in situations like this? One does not kid about cumming and I’m about to when he suddenly stops.
“Wha?”
But he doesn’t say anything, just draws his lips to my exposed stomach, moving excruciatingly slow, tongue leaving a warm trail over my cold skin.
My heart stops as the blood pools between my legs. Wowza. My lady bits are about to explode in a burst of clover shaped confetti.
His lips find my hot button and my head flops back against the brick. Oww. Oww. Oww. Ouchie.
“You alright up there?” He doesn’t move his lips from me.
“Oh, um, yeah. I’m goo– Right there.” I cut myself off. “Do not stop what you are doing right there. Too good. It, um, yeah. That feels…”
He sucks my clit into his mouth, warm tongue brushing me forcefully as I try not to finish prematurely and shower his face with my fluids. He looks like the type that would enjoy it but, then the feeling would come back to my body, he’d notice that I was shivering and he’d be too much of a gentleman to continue his assault on my poonan. We wouldn’t want that.
I gasp as his strong hands part my folds, tip of his pointer finger blazing a trail up my pussy lips, back and forth, back and forth without actually penetrating me. It feels beyond erotic.
“Finn, if you don’t stop that right now I’m gonna…”
“You’re gonna what, Brooke. What’re you gonna do?”
I gulp. “I’m gonna cum all over your face and leave you begging for more.”
He chuckles, not stopping what he’s doing to my taco. “That was kind of the point, woman. Need I remind you–”
But he doesn’t have to remind me of anything because I let loose, feeling a release so deep inside me that my contractions will likely amputate his tongue at any second.
“Bloody hell, Brooke,” he squeaks as if he should be the one embarrassed for finishing after point two seconds of pleasure. “Consider me begging now.”
He wipes his hand across his mouth and stands, sliding his body up mine just enough to make my insides turn to mush. He is hot. Hotter than hot. Hot is not a strong enough word to describe it. No, this is not the orgasm talking. He could read me my mom’s address book and I would jizz myself just listening to it.
“You are way too hot,” I sigh as he leans into my face. I can smell myself on his breath. Is that gross? Because it’s turning me on. “Like, boiling hot.”
“And you’re freezing. Come on, let’s get you back inside where it’s warm. I think I see a free corner booth.”
That’s when I notice the window and the set of eyes peering out at me. Was Elliot watching this whole time? Truthfully, I’m a little disappointed he’s not standing on the table with his hands cupped around his face to get a better look. Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely been peeking out here, just trying to act casual about it. I bet getting caught spying on cunnilingus in the alley is frowned upon and, especially on a night like tonight, one does not want to start a fight. The tingling in the atmosphere tells me that even the simplest skirmish would end in an all-out brawl.
Finn leads me inside, helping me out of my coat at the door, hanging it exactly where I’d left it when Elliot and I walked in. He takes my hand as he escorts me to a booth along the back wall, opposite end of the wall from Elliot, who has a shit eating grin on his face.
“That was… Oh my God. Wow.”
He cheeses up. “Yeah, sorry ’bout that. I got a little carried away. I take it you enjoyed yourself.”
Understatement, much? “I mean, I don’t normally get off in alleyways but if I was going to rank the times that I have, that would be number one.”
He can’t help but kiss me, hands around my waist again until I realize I never bothered to button my bodysuit back up. He notices right away.
“Where are my manners? Let me help you with that. Can’t leave a lass with her clothes all askew,” he kids, playing up the Irish accent that has me weak in the knees.
“Well, while you’re down there, you know, you could do a little more of that… whatever the hell it was you did out there. Where did you learn that?”
“Oh that? I just kind of came up with that on the spot. Some might say you inspired it.”
“Wow,” I repeat. “That was incredible.”
“That was the least I could do after you snogged me in front of all my mates. Where the hell are those ol’ dogs anyway?” He looks around the room, either playing an elaborate game or truly looking for some friends I didn’t realize he was with. “Who are you here with anyway?”
I don’t know how to answer that. On the one hand, sometimes it turns them on to know my husband is watching, other times though, other times it has the opposite effect. After what he just did to me, I don’t know if I can risk it.
He stares at me, waiting for an answer, giving up the search for his ‘mates’ just as quickly as it began. One of the benefits of being a man, he doesn’t need to keep an eye on his friends at all times just to make sure they’re not getting carried out of the bar and skinned alive. It would be unfortunate to lose my skin, it’s kinda my best feature, and I don’t think any of my outfits would look right without it.
How do I answer this? What do I say? This isn’t normal, the hotwife thing. I know that, Elliot knows it, hell, poor Finn knows it even if he has no idea what a hotwife is. Usually men just kind of look at me with the head cocked off to the side puppy thing when I tell them what I am. ‘Is this woman really that conceited that she’s telling me she’s hot?’ Ugh. It’s so hard to explain. I didn’t come up with the term, people, I think it’s stupid too.
Hoping he’ll forget he asked, I lean into him, sliding my hands up his thighs in our dark corner booth. It’s so pitch black that I can barely see my nails as they dig into his quads, hoping to distract him from possibly the most awkward question you could ask a hotwife. I don’t dare say anything lest he realize I never answered his inquiry. Maybe if I just slowly inch my fingers towards his cock, he’ll forget ever bringing up who I’m hanging out with. Maybe?
I look up at him from under my lashes, biting my lip as I glance back and forth from his sparkling green eyes to his big, pouty lips. My breathing becomes ragged as he stares back, until the very second he pulls me into his lap.
I’m facing him, hands forced to remove themselves from his masculine legs as my thighs wrap themselves around him. I don’t know why I thought jeans would be a good choice, my one pair of non-ripped up denim is about to become shredded as it constricts the blood flow to my upper body. He’s stroking the exposed skin of my lower back, so exposed that I’m threatening to produce a coin slot at any second as my bodysuit rides up.
Instead of raking higher, Finn’s hands begin to go lower, dipping into my pants like he’s claiming my ass as his own. After what he did to me in the alley, I’d say I’m his. I have never cum so quickly in my life, and that is saying a lot after some of the encounters I’ve had, enough to make me wish for seconds.
He leans in, the tickle of
his breath on my skin as I hear his throaty voice say, “he’s here, isn’t he?”
I jerk upright so fast that my cleavage bounces in his face.
“It’s okay, I know this little game. You’re trying to make him jealous so he can fuck you until–”
“It’s not like that,” I interrupt. “Not at all.”
“So, you’re telling me, if I do this,” he kids, grabbing my ass under my jeans for all it’s worth, rising to his feet to simulate standing sex with me, “he’s not going to charge across the room and pull me limb from limb?”
I shake my head. Not able to speak after the stimulation.
“Or if I do this,” he says, laying me down on the table top and biting down on my neck with my legs still around him, “your husband’s not going to jump out of the shadows and put a stop to the whole thing?”
I still can’t talk. No words are coming. This is too much.
“Or this?” He rakes his strong hands over my breast.
I shake my head again as he brings his lips to my cleavage. “This?”
“No,” I manage to squeak out.
“What will it take, what is the line? I want to know.”
“No line,” I croak. “He wants you to do whatever you want to me.”
I slide back into his lap, not resisting the urge to bite down on his neck when it’s accessible to me. He tastes like the delicious side of Guinness, dark, seductive, a little like chocolate. As I lean into his ear, I hear his gasp suffocating in his throat.
“He wants to watch you fuck me, Finn.”
I don’t dare move as he stares at me, dick so hard under my hips that I can feel it through two layers of stiff jeans. His breathing is heavy, skin clammy under my touch, eyes hooded.
“Where is he? Show me which one he is. I wanna know who I’m performing for.”
Elliot catches my eye as I spin around in Finn’s lap, his lips trailing up my neck as I reposition on top of him. No one else is so much as glancing our way, too happy to be drunk on green beer in the middle of the week. It’s like when one of your high school friends’ parents were out of town on a school night and everyone came over to party despite having to go to school the next day. That’s what this is. I’m going to limp into the office, hungover and smelling like whiskey, and no one will bat an eye. Finn will take his flight to Vancouver and be saddled up next to Aaron Callahan by dinnertime, making small talk about his St. Paddy’s Day.
“He’s right there,” I say as Finn’s hands slip into my bra over my shoulders. He twists my nipples between his fingers simultaneously as he tries to make out my husband across the dimly lit bar. If Elliot didn’t position himself directly under an overhead light, there is no way we’d be able to see him.
I grind myself over Finn’s lap, feigning like I’m trying to get comfortable when, in actuality, I couldn’t be more comfortable if I tried. I need the feel of his cock on me.
I could probably finish just rubbing up and down on his impressive bulge but I know that’s not going to get Elliot’s rocks off. I should do more, want to do more, need to.
“Come here,” I say, motioning for Finn to lean closer to me. “I need to tell you something.”
He does as he’s told, ear inches from my pouting lips, the sloppy sound of my last remaining traces of gloss whispering in his ear as I purse and unpurse my wet lips.
“I want you to fuck me right here.”
His hands stop moving on my boobs, stop twirling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger in a way that had them harder than rock hard. He doesn’t move for fear that I’m going to start laughing and take it all back. That is the last thing I’m going to do.
“I’ve never meant anything more than I mean that right now. I want your cock inside me right in the middle of this bar and I want it now.”
I grind harder against him, resting my back on his chest until my hair slithers over his shoulders instead of my own.
“And I want you to make me cum in front of all these people, my husband included. Wave to Elliot.”
His hand lifts from under my shirt in a half-hearted attempt of acknowledgement.
“Now, unbutton my jeans and slide them over my hips.” I pause, pressing my hands harder into his thighs for leverage. “Slowly. Be careful. You wouldn’t want us to get caught.”
He does as he’s told, pulling me from my jeans until the impossibly tiny string of my shamrock green thong is exposed to him.
“Now, it’s your turn. Undo your pants.”
He goes for his zipper, breath a struggling in and out like he has to remind himself to inhale.
“Take your time, this is not a race. Now, I’m not saying it’s not going to be torture but you have to keep very still.” I turn to look at him. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to catch us now, would you?”
He shakes his head, slowly, eyes glazing over as they struggle to stay open. It’s like this is a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from but judging by the erection in his pants, it’s most definitely going to be a wet dream.
“Now, as slowly as you can, I’m gonna need you to work your cock into my tiny, wet hole. Can you do that for me, Finn?”
He gulps against the back of my head resting on his throat.
“That’s it, just like that. Get the tip nice and wet and drive it in slowly. Gentle with me now.”
Both of our hearts are racing but it’s as if no one else is in the room. They could all be staring and neither of us would have a clue that they were watching. We need this. It’s the only thing we could ever need.
I drag my hips up gingerly, giving him space to grasp his cock with both hands, lining it up with my hole. Without a hint of warning, I slip the tip of his dick between my folds, rubbing my hips in circles until he’s hit everything he can hit without being inside me.
I love the torture. I love the control I have over him, the way his every move is dependent on what I do next. If I told him to sit perfectly still and let me lead, he would. If I asked for him to ram me until we’re both left gasping each other’s names, he would. Whatever I need from him, Finn is going to give it to me.
As carefully as I can, I lower myself onto him, eyes widening in shock as his manhood pierces me. I literally have to bite my lip so hard not to cry out that I’m worried it’s already bleeding. He feels that good. And he’s not even a quarter of the way inside me.
I press myself into his chest, dying to sink my hips down on him and ride him like a bronco. It would call too much attention to us and I’m not ready for that.
With both hands wrapped tightly around my waist, Finn creeps his hips up higher to meet me, infiltrating my sacred spot inch by delicious inch.
“You feel so big,” I whisper. “You fill me so full.”
He grins, I can feel it against my face. We both know this is only the beginning.
“I want more,” I whine, grasping his hips between my hands to indicate my point even more.
“Are you sure?” he whimpers. “Because I’ve got a lot more to give.”
“I want it all. I want every inch of you inside me until there’s no way you can fit any more.”
He obliges my request, hips pounding up to meet mine so forcefully that a yelp escapes my lips. A few eyes turn to look at us but in the dark, there is nothing they can see that seems out of the ordinary for a dingy bar. For all they know we’re just a couple, people watching, taking in the room and having a grand old time. But right now, this particular half of the couple is speared in half by a cock as hard as the bottle of whiskey currently being emptied into a row of rocks glasses.
Neither of us dare move for a split second and I don’t until it feels too good not to, sliding my hips back and forth across his lap until he’s moving in and out of me.
He groans, gripping my earlobe between his teeth, mumbling a string of curse words so explicit that I can’t even say them. He’s a dirty boy, especially when he reaches his hands between us to spread my pussy lips so I can feel more of him.
“What the fuck are you doing to me, Brooke? I couldn’t want you more if I tried.”
We both watch as Elliot rearranges in his seat, probably catching on to what we’re doing in our dark area on the other side of the room.
“You are a wild one.” He shakes his head. “Making me fuck you in a room full of strangers while your husband watches.”
“Didn’t think it was going to happen?”
Again, he shakes his head. “Thought I’d be inches away from sliding into that delicious slit of yours and you’d call the whole thing off. You’re fucking naughty as hell.”
“And you love it,” I yelp, grinding down on him so hard that we both gasp.
I lean forward and grip the edge of the table. Feeling the change in sensation in my lady bits has me sucking wind as I fight to keep in control.
“I’m gonna need you to fuck me for real now. Just for a second, it’s all I need. Please. Please, Finn. Fuck me.”
It doesn’t take much convincing before he’s full-on banging me, our hips rising and falling in tandem as we try to stay discreet. It’s a losing battle with the sounds coming out of both of our mouths.
There is no denying that this is the naughtiest thing I’ve ever done, the most deviant. It’s one thing to fuck strange men in your bedroom or theirs, in private, without an unknowing audience that could turn their attention to you at any moment. It is quite a different thing to have a cock jamming you in the kidneys in the middle of a crowded bar on St. Patrick’s Day.
“Fuck me harder,” I groan, not caring that people are starting to catch on. I need his dick so deep inside me that I swear I can taste it.
He laughs maniacally as my body is folded over the table, hands grasping for the other side of the rectangular structure, bending as far as I can go to feel him deeper inside me. I need leverage. Something, anything to feel him further inside me.
The whole bar turns to look at us. His thighs slap off mine with such force that it’s like the music cuts out and no one can hear anything else. Half of the bar’s patrons are too inebriated to know what’s going on but the other half, well they know damn well that I’m being porked in the corner booth.
