Just rip the Band-Aid off.
Get rid of this fucking misfortune I’ve been foolish enough to think was a gift.
Settimo’s hand caresses my face, and I open my eyes as he leans down. He tilts his head and angles his lips so they’re close to mine. His breath skates over me, raising goosebumps on my skin.
I close my eyes and ready for him to kiss me, but his mouth moves to my ear.
“Nice to meet you, Alex.”
I open my eyes, my brow wrinkled, and look up at Settimo as he stands straight. He winks and goes to walk around me, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.
He pauses and cocks his head. Now he’s the one confused. Because I don’t think he was serious, I think he was just messing with me.
But I’m serious.
I raise onto my toes and weave my hands around his neck before dragging him down to kiss me. His lips crash to mine, and it’s hard at first. Forced. But after a few moments, his hands go to my waist, and he urges his tongue inside my mouth.
I part my lips wider for him and caress his tongue with my own. His hands move from my hips to my breasts, and he presses the heel of his hands against my hardened nipples. He palms me and squeezes, and I wish a second time that I chose something less modest. Something with a lower neckline so his hands could find what they’re searching for.
Settimo breaks the kiss, gasping, and lifts his wrist to look at his watch. “We have to make this quick,” he says, looking back at me.
I nod because there’s no way I could form words. My throat is closed up, and if I tried to speak, I’d choke, and then he’d know. He’d know this is more than a quick fuck for me, and I can’t risk him not going through with it.
He grips my jaw and kisses me firmly. I place my hands on his chest and lean into him, smelling his cologne, along with the liquor he’s drowned himself in.
He grips my hips and lifts me, his hands moving to my backside and exploring my ass. He carries me to the brick building and rests my back against it. I break away from his lips and arch my back, puffing my chest out and exposing my neck to him. He eagerly nips and sucks on the supple flesh, leaving a trail of moisture to the fabric of my dress.
He lowers me to the ground and spins me around. I clap my hands against the brick and lay my face against it while Settimo hikes up my dress and exposes me. My panties gather at my ankles, and I have to kick them off so I can spread my legs for him.
No man has ever seen me like this.
I close my eyes and try not to think about what he’s seeing. The brick is cool and rough against my face, bringing both satisfaction and displeasure. Why do I suspect that’s all Settimo can give, as well?
Settimo’s index and middle fingers find my clit, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, this time it’s out of rapture, but at an intensity that’s uncomfortable. See? Satisfaction and displeasure.
My body adjusts to the overwhelming sensation, and my core floods with goo. It leaks from me onto his hand, and with a minute of expert swirling of his fingertips, I’m coming undone. Right here, against a nasty public park bathroom with my panties on the ground and my dress bunched in a man’s free hand. A man I don’t even know.
My body doesn’t seem to care.
Settimo’s hands leave me, and I whine without meaning to. His belt jingles, and his pants unzip. I look behind me and watch as he pumps his cock a few times, it sticking out from an opening in his slacks. He doesn’t even plan on pulling his pants all the way down.
He presses his hand against my back, and I lay my cheek against the wall and close my eyes.
He rubs the tip of his dick in my opening, coating himself with my juices and running it along my folds to my clit. He lines up at my entrance, and my breath hitches.
This is going to hurt. I tell myself this, brace for it, expect it, and still, I’m not ready when Settimo impales me. My eyelids clench, and I claw at the brick. I clench my jaw and hold in the scream threatening to tear itself from me. Maybe that’s what’s causing the tightening in my chest.
Settimo’s hips work like he has no idea the anguish he’s causing me. His heavy breaths hit my back, and my spine tingles from it, even as my core splices in half.
He snakes a hand underneath me and finds my clit with those deft fingers again and works me.
“You’re tense,” he says, barely easing up. “Relax, I’m not telling Paolo shit.”
Paolo.
Paolo.
I remember why I’m doing this, and my jaw clenches harder. I push myself up and rest my elbows and forehead against the wall, backing my hips into Settimo.