Page 47 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
Like a porn star on an audition.
“Shhh.” I reach a hand around to cover her mouth.
She licks my fingers. Ambitiously. Making a loud moaning noise as she goes.
“Shhh,” I say again.
She ignores me, laving away at my fingers and palm.
“Oh, so good, unh, yeah, baby.” In between licks, she speaks, and starts to rock back into me as I thrust forward. I appreciate her enthusiasm. I do. And the assist is helpful as I’m close to coming. I don’t think she’s come yet, and I almost feel bad about that. But I’ve had enough to drink at this point that I don’t want to care. Still, I lower my hand from her mouth to diddle her clit.
“Unh, unh, unh, unh.” She grunts in time with my thrusts as her muscles clamp down. She’s coming. Thank god. Now I can focus on me with a clear conscience.
“Oh, cowboy, ride ’em. Yeah. Ride ’em, cowboy. Get on that horse. Oh yeah, god yeah. Fuck yeah.” She keeps talking.
Even after her climax.
I can’t focus.
Am I the cowboy here or the horse?
“Go cowboy,” she moans. “Get ’em. Ride ’em. Fuck yes.”
I think she’s the horse and I’m the cowboy.
I can’t think about this and finish.
Focus, Pax. For fuck’s sake.
Tabatha’s face creeps in and I imagine it’s her I’m slamming into from behind.
“Get it, cowboy. Get it,” Trix cries.
But, in my mind, it’s Tabs calling me a cowboy. And it’s not creepy. She’s wearing boots, a fringe vest, and a hat. Nothing else. Her pert ass thrusts toward me. She’s not touching the toilet seat though. Because we’re fucking in a fancy unisex restroom. Against the vanity. Like civilized people.
I sigh with relief as I finally come. It’s not even a good orgasm. More a release from pressure than anything. As I still against Trix’s ass, she straightens and brings her toilet seat hands behind her head to grab my face and force my lips to hers. “You sure fucked that horse, cowboy,” she mumbles appreciatively.
Confirming, without a doubt, the role we each played in her fantasy.
* * *
“All I’m saying is, it’s never happening again,” I tell Gregor. He laughs, as though he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him. I’ve said the same thing before after we’ve left a double date he’s set me up on.
“Believe it when I see it, brother.”
I scowl at him, but his eyes are on the road and not me.
“Dude, I washed my face with antibacterial gel after she touched me with her toilet hands.”
“I love how the only thing that bothered you about this is that she touched the toilet seat.”
“What else should bother me?” Because if I’m missing something, I’d like to know.
He shakes his head and laughs to himself.
The girls had met us at the bowling alley in a separate car and left the same way. So now Gregor is driving my slightly drunk ass home. I yawn and lean my warm head against the cool glass of the passenger window. “Tell me how Becky was?”
“How she was? Not all of us had sex in the bowling alley bathroom, man.”
