I start to think about Braden tearing at the stitches of my dress, revealing my bare skin as he makes that growling animal noise he made in the ladies’ room.
I still can’t believe we did it in there.
All through the next few days, I’m on high alert, wondering if anybody’s going to say anything. But so far nobody has. I think we got away with it.
But he wanted to do so much more.
His eyes blazed and his whole body shook when he said he wanted to bend me over right there. It wasn’t even the fact we were in the restroom.
It was how confident he sounded, how sure I could keep pace with his carnal desires.
How could I tell him? Will it make him want me more, or will he take it as a sign I’m too young for him?
I love our age gap.
He’s so mature, with his silver hair and his strong jaw, and his thick manly body. He’s so much better than the high school boys who pretend to be men.
Most of the time I manage to keep my mind somewhat focused until I get back to my apartment. But if I have to see Braden striding across the lot, eyes forward, face set...if I have to see him looking beastly and manly and furious like he hates me for how I ran out on him, my channel gets all hot, my clit tingling and buzzing.
I’ve never felt like this before, not even close to this. I didn’t even know a man could make a woman feel like this.
When I get home to my apartment, I’m a mess, falling onto bed and grinding my hot center, losing myself in memories of the way he roughly shoved his hand down my pants. I relive the tingling sensation of his finger grinding up inside of me.
And his words, most of all his words.
I remember how hot his breath felt when he snarled in my ear.
“Come. For. Me.”
That’s usually when I start twitching and whimpering, losing myself to the orgiastic memories of my man.
My man.
Visions torment me, really freaking impossible things.
I dream about ski trips with our smiling happy family of six. I see us sitting in the garden with a dog loping around and all the children laughing. Weddings, children, grandchildren, graduations, anniversaries… a whole world springs to life in my mind, a whole other life which is just plain ridiculous.
He wanted to finger and fuck the costume intern in the restroom, not marry me, not be mine.
But I can’t stop the thoughts from bouncing around my head in the moments after my orgasm when the pleasure is buzzing through me.
Today I’m glad I didn’t see Braden because it’s getting harder to see how grim his features are.
As I walk out of the lot and down the small hill to my bus stop – with the setting sun shining down a dark orange, and cars passing back and forth – I think, yeah, maybe this is it.
Maybe Braden Braxten and I had a steamy moment in the restroom and nothing else will ever happen with us.
Near-physical pain stabs through me, spreading sharply, as the word no, no, no howls through me. It’s like my body is sending me signals, screaming up and down.
You should’ve bent over and ground onto his massive cock when you had the chance, a voice hisses inside of me. You should have bounced up and down and taken everything he had, even if it hurt a little because it’s so big, even if you’re a little anxious. You should’ve taken his cock until he gave you his seed.
I bite down, trying to push the voice away.
It’s not a good idea to get all excited about Braden when I’ve still got three buses until I’m home. I was so freaking keyed up about the memory of him yesterday, the bumping of the bus purred against my center, tempting me with even more thoughts of him.
How can I control this sort of lust?
It’s not like I can start letting myself moan on the bus. Heck, that would sure get some weird looks.
When I reach the bottom of the hill, I stop and let out a gasp.
It’s Braden, changed into a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His arms were massive, the fabric of his shirt pulled tight, like corded rope pulled taut. His pants are silver just like his hair, his belt buckle glinting in the fading sun. His hair slightly mussed and his gaze firm, unflinching, hard.
He stands next to his car, a black Ford Mustang.
“Get in.”
Chapter Eight
Braden
My cock is so hard, especially in these pants, nowhere near as loose as my costume. My manhood is pulsing and throbbing and trying to make me do insane things. She’ll be able to see the outline if she looks down.