Page 182 of Can't Always Get What You Want

I hear a splitting sound as my dress threatens to rip as his fingers work the buttons of my dress, plucking them open, giant hand sliding in once he has plenty of them undone.

Shoves my strapless bra down.

Thumb strokes my nipple.

I swear he gets harder…

Someone pounds on the door.

Jiggles the handle.

Too bad, so sad. We’re fucking—go away!

Luca has the look on his face I’ve come to know well; he’s close. And if I were a betting woman, I would say his balls were tingling and filling with come…

I don’t care about an orgasm.

I only care about seeing his face when he has his.

That’s how much I love him. Turns out, watching Luca’s expression crumple as he shudders inside me on a bathroom counter is a very, very close second to my favorite thing in the whole wide world.

He is the first.

He gasps my name. Stills.

Breath ragged.

Fingers clenched at my waist.

I cup his face, kiss the tip of his nose. “That felt like a massive load.”

He laughs, body wracking one more time against me.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, pupils dilated. “I think I saw God.”

“Yeah?” I press my forehead to his. “Did she look impressed?”

His laugh is broken and shaking. “If she was watching what we just did, she’s definitely sending me to hell.”

I shrug. “She wouldn’t dare.”

It takes several minutes for us to clean ourselves; I wash my hands, dry them, then attempt to fix my hair in the smudged mirror, my reflection no less worse for wear than it was when we entered the stall.

Tipsy is tipsy is tipsy.

Luca’s shirt is halfway buttoned. I think one of my earrings is missing. The counter we desecrated is definitely not level anymore.

No one has to know it was us!

Shh…

“You ready?” Luca has his hand on the door handle, ready to pull it open.

“Yup.”

We nod at each other like we’re about to jump feet first, from an airplane. Luca gives my hand one last squeeze before twisting the knob and?—

Bam. The door swings open.

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