Page 89 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

I shrug, then smile, and that’s the moment he snaps.

His mouth crashes into mine, his teeth scraping my lip, tongue swirling wildly, while his hand goes to my throat. I moan louder than I intended to, my body trembling violently in the face of his passion for me.

He bites my bottom lip before trailing wet kisses and sharp nips down my jaw, neck, and chest. My back arches away from the wall, desperate to meld into him.

He frees my neck, using his strong hands to grip my thighs and lift me. Without thinking, I wrap my legs around him, his body heat branding my thighs through his clothes.

He’s so hard.

He fumbles around with his belt. I wanna tell him to hurry the fuck up, but the words don’t even form on my lips before he shoves inside me.

I gasp, clinging to him, my back hitting the wall with each deep, relentless thrust.

This negro ismad.

I love it.

“Why you lie so much, huh?”

I…don’t know how to answer that, especially not while I’m overstimulated by the heat and friction and his long, thick dick tearing down my walls.

“Fuckin’hateyou sometimes,” he grits, slamming into me harder. “You think I won’t crash out behind you? Huh? Keep playin’ with me.”

“I like playing with you,” I moan.

He groans, burying himself deeper. Every stroke taps the bottom, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine and radiating through my body. I can’t even talk shit, it’s too good. Too long. Too hard. Too deep.

Then he breaks me.

I cum so fast and so hard, it knocks the wind out of me. I grasp at his back, his head, the wall behind me, the air, but it’s all useless. My body seizes with pleasure, pulsing around him until his own release follows.

He groans into my neck as he buries himself inside me one last time. He throbs so hard, my walls clenching around him, hugging him, loving on his length. It’s easy to forget we’re in public until I hear footsteps.

He’s still cumming, but I look up and lock eyes with a cook. He stops dead in his tracks, blowing out of his mouth in disgust.

“Hell, nah,” he says. “The fuck is y’all doin’?”

Without lifting his head, Ace says, “Keep it movin’, bruh,” and I’m struck by the sheer audacity of it. We’re trespassing. Indecently exposing ourselves.

But he doesn’t care.

I bring my hands to his head, cradling it. His breathing is shallow. His body is shaking.

I’m the only one who can do this to him. Who can turn him into this person.

We’re soulmates. It has to be written in the stars.

Finally, he straightens up, adjusts himself, and steps back, letting my legs slide down.

I smooth my dress, primly running my fingers through my hair like I wasn’t just against this wall getting fucked within an inch of my life.

Without a word, he turns to walk out, leaving me standing alone with cum dripping down my inner thighs.

Alright, then.

After a trip to the ladies room, I rejoin my aunt at the bar. She doesn’t say a word, just sips her drink and lifts a knowing eyebrow.

I smirk.

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