Page 15 of Glitter

But what wasn’t less was the way I wanted him.

My desire for him was a throbbing, burning need, filling up every corner of my being and which came out as a rumbling, desperate groan.

“Please,” I begged, not even knowing what it was I was begging for. Did it matter? Whatever he had in mind, I wanted it. I was willingly his.

His lips curled up in a pleased smile at my reaction. Or perhaps he was amused by the blatant neediness I was pathetically unable, or unwilling, to hide. He raised his glass up to those lips, which almost perfectly matched the color of his bright pink drink, his eyes never leaving mine as he took a slow, deep sip.

My mouth watered for a taste. Not another taste of what was in his cup—I could still taste the small sample my angel had given me. No. What I wanted was a taste of him. What he tasted like beneath the shared flavor of the drink.

Our eye contact continued, lingered, much the way the press of his lips lingered against the rim of his glass. It finally broke when he looked away to set his drink on the bar behind me, even though it was still roughly half full.

Over my shoulder, my angel aimed a narrow-eyed glare at the bartender, who must’ve still been hovering nearby. As if to dare him to comment on the way he’d so gloriously, and publicly, staked his claim on me, or to warn the bartender against repeating that other man’s offer to buy me a drink.

If it was a warning, it was totally unnecessary. Not that I minded the thrill it gave me. I would glory in this bit of outward possessiveness, let it nourish me like rainfall on parched land, and bask in it for as long as it lasts.

Then he grabbed my hand, tugging and pulling me up and off the barstool. A sassy flick of his head sent his pink curls jouncing enticingly as he stated, “Come along, boo. Follow me.”

“Okay,” I dutifully replied, happy to follow him wherever he wanted to take me.

Even with me obediently trailing behind him, he kept his hand clasped around mine. Normally, I wasn’t one who enjoyed public attention, but at this moment, I sort of hoped that everyone in the club was looking at me. At us. I wouldn’t even have minded if the music cut out and a spotlight was shown down on us if it meant that everyone could see this outward stake of ownership right now.

As he led me, unsurprisingly, toward one of the back hallways, I let my eyes feast on angel. His long, slender legs were encased in a pair of black, slim-cut pants that emphasized every lean, toned inch of them, and also cupped his firm, perky ass in a way that made my hands want to do the same. On top, he was wearing a white, button-up shirt, paired with a wide, stiff, corset-like band of black leather wrapped around his narrow waist. And on his feet, he had on a pair of black, leather ankle boots that had a small heel that gave him just a touch of a height advantage between the two of us.

Internally, I laughed as my angel took us into Bathroom 3, thinking that, at the rate we were going, I’d soon have fond memories of all of the bathrooms of Glitter. At least, I thought my laughter had only been internal, but I realized it might not have been only inside my head as he turned to face me and raised one questioning brow.

Not wanting to admit to my stupidly hopeful thought, I muttered an unconvincing “nothing. It was nothing” in answer to his silent query. Thankfully, after a long moment, he let it go, not asking any follow up questions.

By some luck, the bathroom was empty, not that we’d probably remain the only two people in here for very long. But it did mean that there was nobody in here to witness my angel forcefully propel me into the bathroom stall furthest from the door or to hear him slam the door shut behind us.

I was a bit on the fence as to whether it was good luck or bad luck though. On the one hand, my ego wouldn’t have minded somebody else being around to see the way my angel wanted me enough to manhandle me. On the other hand, the level to which I enjoyed that manhandling and how needy and desperate it made me… Yeah, that was something private. Something I only wanted my angel to know.

Remembering how things had gone between us the last two times, I automatically placed myself between him and the toilet and reached around to my back pocket to pull out my wallet, to get to the condom I’d tucked in there.

But before I could pull my wallet all the way free, a firm hand on my arm halted my movements. Glancing up at him, I thought I saw a flash of uncertainty pass through my angel’s blue eyes. But it was so quick—between one blink and another—and then in its place was such a look of control and confidence, that I couldn’t be sure if I’d really seen it or not.

“Not so fast, boo,” he said.

My heart banged fast with disappointment and, well, confusion. Why were we in here, why had he led me here, if not for…

“As much as I loved you fucking me the last two times…” His hand still holding my arm in place, slightly trapped behind me, he stepped in close. Close enough that I could smell alcohol and berries on his breath. Berries and alcohol and…sugar. His own natural sweetness that I was dying to get on my tongue.

For a moment—a breath-stealing, hopeful moment—I thought he was about to kiss me. But just when I thought his lips were going to touch mine…just before…his head twisted to the side and he brought his mouth close to my ear instead.

His breath whispered against me as he stated, “Trust me, I really, really didlovehow you fucked me,” the words soothing me, reassuring me, and bringing my anxiety down a notch. “But,” he said. “But…”

My confusion and disappointment flared again as he took a step back, away from me, releasing his hold on my arm, and settling his body with his back resting against the black, metal stall door.

But even with my emotions a messy swirl, I couldn’t help but appreciate the vision he presented. All monochromatic in black and white against that black background, the only pops of color came from his hair, eyes, and lips. Even the glitter he had on tonight—dusted across his cheekbones and on the flat expanse of chest exposed by his half-unbuttoned shirt—was a shimmering silver. While it made him look as though he’d been kissed by stardust, it couldn’t pull at my gaze the way his face did. Those eyes. Thoselips.

Even more than the loss of the press of his body against mine, what I felt more was the loss of the possibility of the brush of his hot pink lips against mine.

While I’d been eyeing him, my angel seemed to have been eyeing me right back. I’m not really sure why—it’s not like I was much to look at, not like he was, in my jeans and t-shirt that… Yep, a quick glance down confirmed that the t-shirt I’d thrown on after work had a faded sports logo on it. So faded, I couldn’t even be certain of which sports team it was for, although there were bits of black and white that almost looked shaped like a bird, so if I had to, I would guess it was for the Minnesota Loons hockey team.

As for what I looked like beneath my plain, unimpressive clothes… Well, it’s not like it was all that hard to tell I was thick and chunky and hadn’t seen the inside of a gym in…ever. But the shape of my body hadn’t been enough to put him off the past two times we’d had sex and it didn’t seem to be deterring him tonight either. On the contrary, as he looked at me, lust made his blue eyes glow and his pink tongue dipped out to run over his pinker lips.

“While I would love, absolutelylove, for you to fuck me again, boo,” he said, adding, “so, so very much, I’m going to have to have you do something else, instead. You see, the last two times were…messy. Wonderful and satisfying and must-be-repeated…but messy.” He waved a hand in front of himself as he stated, “This outfit is new. And so while having you fuck me would be fantastic, I don’t want to get lube and cum on these clothes. Not the very first time I’m wearing them.”

“Oh.”

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