Page 29 of Caught Up

“You fill me so good,” she told him.

“I want another one,” he demanded, slipping a hand around her hip to stimulate her clit while he continued to fuck her. “Let me feel you come around your husband’s dick.”

My eyebrows rose at that. They were married? For some reason, I’d assumed they were just two people paid to fuck in front of a crowd. I’d never imagined that a couple in a committed relationship would want to do something like this. Not that I was judging; I’d just literally never thought about anything like this before. All of the relationships in my life were thehetero-normativekind. The mob wasn’t exactly known for its inclusivity, and in a way, I’d grown up pretty fucking sheltered because of it.

“I’m gonna come,” Steph said, her hands digging into the comforter, her spine bowing as she rocked backward.

Morgan picked up the pace, his wife’s moans gaining a keening edge. Other voices hit my ears, whispered supplications and devotions as the rest of the crowd followed Morgan and Steph into the abyss. My dick was so hard it felt like it might rip through the fabric of my pants. I was half tempted to adjust it but held back on the fear that the second I touched it, I’d end up jizzing all over myself.

“Yes, Steph,” Morgan said, slamming into her as she came. “Good. Fucking. Girl.”

Lauren whimpered beside me, and it was all I could do not to turn and look at her, not to betray the fact that I’d filed her response to praise away like I had all the other facts I’d collected over the past ten years.

“Where do you want it?” Morgan asked.

“On my tits,” his wife answered.

He pulled out of her, and she turned to face him, yanking the bodice of her dress down to her waist. Morgan stroked himself once, twice, and then he was coming, spurting semen all over his wife’s pretty breasts. The sounds of other people coming with him filled the room, and my arousal ratcheted up to an uncomfortable degree. I needed to get off, soon, or else this was going to turn into the worst case of blue balls I’d ever had in my life.

Onstage, Morgan let out one last groan and grinned down at his wife. She smiled back up at him, looking like the happiest woman on the planet, white streaking between the valley of her breasts. Hopefully she had a change of clothes backstage. And hopefully there was one hell of a janitor to clean up after this, because whatever was still happening behind me soundedmessy.

Someone let out a catcall, and then everyone was cheering and clapping—­everyone but those who were still moaning. Finally, as if just now realizing we were here, Morgan and Steph turned toward the crowd. I dropped my gaze but clapped along with everyone else. Watching them fuck was one thing. Making eye contact right after? That made me want to crawl out of my skin.

“Thank you,” Morgan said.

His wife echoed him, and the side door opened again. I turned my head to see a woman carrying a small stack of hand towels enter the room. It was in that split second of distraction that Lauren slipped from her seat and attempted to sneak away.

Oh, Lo,I thought.You should know better than this.

I stood from my chair and stalked after her.

The hallway outside was just as dimly lit, but her white dress popped in the darkness, calling out to me like a beacon as I pursued her. She glanced over her shoulder and picked up speed when she saw me. I gave chase, wondering what she was thinking. She certainly wasn’t behaving like a frightened woman. No screams, no calls for help, and I hadn’t missed the fact that instead of fleeing back downstairs toward the safety of the crowded foyer, she was headed toward the end of the hall and a door with an illuminated “Exit” sign above it.

“Run, Lauren,” I said, unable to stop myself. “Make it good for both of us.”

She let out a noise torn between lust and panic and broke into as much of a run as she could manage in thosesky-highheels.

I let her get a good head start, let her close in on the door, let her think she had a chance to get away before sprinting after her.

She hit the handle with both palms, shoving it open and darting past. Before she could slam it behind her, I got my boot inside the frame, the steel tip protecting my foot when the door bounced off it.

“Shit,” she said, turning toward the stairs.

I grabbed her arm.

She finally opened her mouth to yell.

I clamped a hand over it and spun her, pinning her against the wall, stomach first, my body pressed against hers to keep her there. The door closed behind us, sounding like a coffin slamming shut. This close, Lauren smelled delicious, like sex and sugar, and I leaned down to nuzzle my nose against her neck, where the scent of her perfume was strongest.

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask,” I told her.

She muttered something into my palm that sounded highly sarcastic.

I grinned and ground my arousal into her lower back, and she squirmed against it in a way that told me my instincts were right, and she was into this, at least a little bit. No fighting. No cries for help. No further attempts to banish me back to hell.

I wanted her to bemorethan a little into it, though. I wanted a willing participant, and it was time to swallow my lingering pride and do what it took to get her there.

“I’m sorry, Lo,” I said. “For everything.”

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