Page 6 of Stroke of Shadows

She may be inexperienced, but her body knew what to do.

“Last chance,” he said, giving her an out.

She thought about it for a split-second, the panic surging for a single heartbeat. She wasn’t someone who had sex with a stranger only minutes after meeting them, and definitely not in public where anyone could walk in. She wasn’t someone who really had sex. Period.

The butterflies fought against the nerves clawing beneath her skin. “I thought you said you could make me moan?”

She’d barely gotten the words out before he had his hand wrapped in her hair, pinning her head at the perfect angle for his lips. She swallowed her cry, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any sounds. She wanted him to work for it, to force it from her throat.

His groan vibrated against her, tongue teasing as he stepped her backwards. The stall door slammed loudly with how rough they’d moved. It rebounded back, but Sythe caught it before it could hit her.

“Fuck,” he growled, struggling with the small space. “You’re driving me crazy, darling.” He managed to manoeuvre them both inside, closing the door and slipping the flimsy lock into place.

Tossing her bag on top of the toilet’s tank, she pulled him back with his shirt, savouring his sweet and spicy taste, while his hand moved up to her throat, fingers encircling with just the slightest pressure.

He rotated them, pushing her back against the locked door while pressing his hips heavily against hers, and this time, she couldn’t contain her moan. Not when he felt so hot and heavy beneath his jeans. She wanted to rub herself against it, draw pleasure from this man until he was as insatiable as she seemed to be.

He gently pulled her dress to her hips before she felt his fingers unapologetically between her thighs.

“Fucking soaking,” he rumbled, rubbing against her embarrassingly wet underwear. A single finger slipped beneath the fabric, stroking her, circling her clit before thrusting inside. Harper whimpered, long unused muscles clenching as he started a gentle rhythm. “And it’s all for me.”

“Please,” she begged, already feeling the beginning of an orgasm building, far faster than she’d ever experienced alone. She needed it to be quick, a simple coupling between two people who didn’t know or care about one another.

“Hmmm, my name isn’t ‘please.’” A chuckle as he pulled out, leaving her empty and aching. “Try again.”

Harper glared, unable to look away as he lifted that single finger to his lips and sucked her juices from it. She would have sworn his eyes changed, the caramel shifting to a strange metallic shade, but before she could give any weight to the thought, Sythe spun her, pulling her back with him as he sat. Stretching his long legs forward, he shifted her so her back pressed against his torso, his lips trailing over her shoulder. Hands splayed on her bare legs, spreading her open as far as she could go in the tight space with her dress bunched around her waist.

She felt how big he was beneath her. “Well, are you going to do it?” she demanded, not sure how to take it further, only that she needed him inside her. “Or are you just all talk?”

“Not until you moan my name.” His right hand stroked up the inside of her thigh, tugging the side of her underwear before it caught between them. With a barely compressed grunt, he tore the fabric, exposing her to the air. “Fucking beautiful.”

He moved to press his spare palm against the front of her throat, fingers constricting just enough for her to feel it, but not to obstruct her breathing.

“Keep them spread for me, darling.”

Harper tried to widen her legs further, but there was nowhere for her to go.

His hand was rough against her skin, moving straight back to where she needed. There was no teasing, his fingers touching her as if he’d done it thousands of times before. Letting out a cry, he thrust a single finger inside, thumb gently rubbing across her clit before adding a second, stretching her with each confident stroke.

She allowed herself to get lost in the moment, hoping that he lived up to his promise. Gripping his arms, her nails bit into his skin as she rode his hand, chasing after her release like it was the last she’d ever have.

She didn’t care that they were technically in public, or that people could hear. All she cared about was how she was soaking his lap, her breathing coming in soft moans and undignified pants as he twisted his fingers to rub a spot inside that got her on fire.

“Please!” she cried, unable to think straight as he groaned beneath her, everything about him pushing her towards the edge far faster than she’d be able to do herself.

Harper cried out, throwing her head back as much as she could in his grip, his name on the tip of her tongue. “Sy—”

“I’ve changed my mind,” he purred into her ear, hand now pressed tightly against her lips. “Only I get to hear your moans.”

Her pussy convulsed around his fingers at the possessiveness of his words, the orgasm hitting her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath from the weight of pleasure seizing her muscles. Sythe continued to stroke her through the ripples. When she realised she’d not only moaned, she’d screamed beneath his hand, did she pull his arm away, twisting in his lap to attack the fastening of his jeans.

Sythe seemed to be just as desperate, his hands a blur as he fought the zipper to release himself, the tip already glistening with how much he wanted her. She reached for it, but he caught her wrist.

“You can worship my cock later,” he growled, them both a tangle of limbs as she manoeuvred in the tight space to hover above him. Sythe gripped the base, giving himself a single pump before placing the head at her entrance.

A gentle vibration, one she would’ve ignored if her phone hadn’t fallen from her bag, the screen brightening with Mr Beckett’s name over Sythe’s shoulder.

“Wait!”

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