What's Left of Us
Page 37
Amy and I texted over the last few days. She decided to stay at her parents’ through the weekend but she insisted we get together this coming week to celebrate.
“Let’s dance!” Jean screams into my ear. I nod, taking her hand. She leads the way, Genna holding my other hand as we squeeze through the crowd to the second level. Making our way front and center, we all start dancing foolishly and laughing at ourselves. The dance floor is packed and we’re bumping elbows with those around us, but no one seems to mind. The music is blaring and I feel each pound of the bass deep within me.
It’s a Shakira song screaming from the speakers and I move my hips with the beat. Because I haven’t had much to drink, my dance moves are more reserved. I’ve never been a good dancer and am easily embarrassed by my awkward movements. Jean once described my dancing as uncontrolled seizing. As opposed to controlled seizing?
It doesn’t take long before Parker joins me, pulling me hard against his chest. “I want to feel your hips move with mine,” he growls into my ear. I can smell the beer on his breath as he moves in closer.
I oblige, pushing back into him, allowing his hands to hug my hips. We dance close for every song, paying no attention to whether it’s fast or slow. My red halter top starts to stick to my back from the heat we’re making. Parker doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he licks across my shoulder blade.
Parker eventually turns me to face him. I twine my arms around his neck and he rests his hands on my hips. We sway together, making eye contact. “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?” he asks, brushing his mouth against mine.
“No, what?”
“Our first night. How we met and danced right here. How hard you made me every time you pressed your ass against me. I wanted to take you then and there, and then again in front of the bathroom later that night.”
“You should have.”
“Really?” He lifts an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” No. Maybe.
“That night I didn’t care.” That’s the truth. “All I could think about was you taking me. I even told myself I didn’t care who was around us; I’d let you.”
He groans, pulling me close enough to feel his hardness. Just feeling him excites me. “What about now?”
“What about it?” I make my words sound playful, secretly hoping he’s going to suggest something that will take care of the ache that’s starting to form between my thighs.
“What if I said I wanted to take you right now?” Thank you, sweet little baby Jesus!
“I’d say, take me.”
Parker breaks our hold at lightning speed. Before I can even exhale or comprehend what exactly is going on, he’s pulling me down the steps and toward the bathrooms. Giving each door a quick look, he opens the women’s first.
“Excuse me,” he says apologetically to the woman washing her hands. She looks confused and I give her a remorseful smile. Letting the door close behind him, he pulls me to the men’s room. I’m excited just at the memory of our first encounter.
After making sure no one is inside, Parker quickly pulls me in after him. He locks the door the second it slams shut. One hand on mine and the other around my waist, he turns me around and presses against me, then pushes us backward until I hit the counter.
“Are you serious?”
He cups my cheek and leans in, whispering, “I’m going to make you feel so good.”
He’s serious.
I whimper at his words. He knows my body inside and out; knows exactly what it needs. And right now it needs him.
Turning me around so I’m looking in the mirror, he slips his hand inside my shirt, lightly tracing my skin. He pushes my bra aside and tugs on my nipple, which hardens under his touch as my eyes flutter closed.
“Open your eyes. I want you to watch me.”
This all seems too intimate for a public bathroom, but I oblige.
The look on his face in the mirror shows that he’s hungry for me.
He holds my hip and rolls my nipple in small circles. He flexes his hips, pushing himself into my backside so I can feel how hard he is. Pulling me firmly against him, he drops light kisses along my neck and I tilt my head to the side, giving him full access. He kisses my ear, then leisurely licks at my skin, tasting every inch of me he can reach.
“You always smell so good. Like fucking pears and honey. I can never get enough of your scent, Aundrea.”
My head falls back onto his shoulder when he cups my breasts firmly, then begins to rub my breasts, massaging them roughly while rocking his hips into me.
“Look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself as I play with you.”
The passion and foreplay at the beginning of any sexual encounter with Parker is always exciting.
I crave this part, right here. The way I tingle with each touch. The way I ache and throb for him. The electricity that pulls me to him.
“Parker,” I breathe.
“Don’t worry, babe. I got you.”
His hands move from my breasts and I moan at the loss. I don’t have to wait long before they’re back, running up my thighs and under my skirt. He holds one thigh while he trails a hand to my wet center.
“I love that you’re ready for me,” he groans.
He slips a finger inside the cotton and taunts me, tracing along the outer edges of my slick folds. I quiver from his touch, begging him for more as my knees shake.
Parker wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. “Do you feel how wet you are? How much you’re craving me, want me inside of you? I can almost feel your tightness wrapped around me and hear the sounds you’ll make.”
“Let’s dance!” Jean screams into my ear. I nod, taking her hand. She leads the way, Genna holding my other hand as we squeeze through the crowd to the second level. Making our way front and center, we all start dancing foolishly and laughing at ourselves. The dance floor is packed and we’re bumping elbows with those around us, but no one seems to mind. The music is blaring and I feel each pound of the bass deep within me.
It’s a Shakira song screaming from the speakers and I move my hips with the beat. Because I haven’t had much to drink, my dance moves are more reserved. I’ve never been a good dancer and am easily embarrassed by my awkward movements. Jean once described my dancing as uncontrolled seizing. As opposed to controlled seizing?
It doesn’t take long before Parker joins me, pulling me hard against his chest. “I want to feel your hips move with mine,” he growls into my ear. I can smell the beer on his breath as he moves in closer.
I oblige, pushing back into him, allowing his hands to hug my hips. We dance close for every song, paying no attention to whether it’s fast or slow. My red halter top starts to stick to my back from the heat we’re making. Parker doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he licks across my shoulder blade.
Parker eventually turns me to face him. I twine my arms around his neck and he rests his hands on my hips. We sway together, making eye contact. “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?” he asks, brushing his mouth against mine.
“No, what?”
“Our first night. How we met and danced right here. How hard you made me every time you pressed your ass against me. I wanted to take you then and there, and then again in front of the bathroom later that night.”
“You should have.”
“Really?” He lifts an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” No. Maybe.
“That night I didn’t care.” That’s the truth. “All I could think about was you taking me. I even told myself I didn’t care who was around us; I’d let you.”
He groans, pulling me close enough to feel his hardness. Just feeling him excites me. “What about now?”
“What about it?” I make my words sound playful, secretly hoping he’s going to suggest something that will take care of the ache that’s starting to form between my thighs.
“What if I said I wanted to take you right now?” Thank you, sweet little baby Jesus!
“I’d say, take me.”
Parker breaks our hold at lightning speed. Before I can even exhale or comprehend what exactly is going on, he’s pulling me down the steps and toward the bathrooms. Giving each door a quick look, he opens the women’s first.
“Excuse me,” he says apologetically to the woman washing her hands. She looks confused and I give her a remorseful smile. Letting the door close behind him, he pulls me to the men’s room. I’m excited just at the memory of our first encounter.
After making sure no one is inside, Parker quickly pulls me in after him. He locks the door the second it slams shut. One hand on mine and the other around my waist, he turns me around and presses against me, then pushes us backward until I hit the counter.
“Are you serious?”
He cups my cheek and leans in, whispering, “I’m going to make you feel so good.”
He’s serious.
I whimper at his words. He knows my body inside and out; knows exactly what it needs. And right now it needs him.
Turning me around so I’m looking in the mirror, he slips his hand inside my shirt, lightly tracing my skin. He pushes my bra aside and tugs on my nipple, which hardens under his touch as my eyes flutter closed.
“Open your eyes. I want you to watch me.”
This all seems too intimate for a public bathroom, but I oblige.
The look on his face in the mirror shows that he’s hungry for me.
He holds my hip and rolls my nipple in small circles. He flexes his hips, pushing himself into my backside so I can feel how hard he is. Pulling me firmly against him, he drops light kisses along my neck and I tilt my head to the side, giving him full access. He kisses my ear, then leisurely licks at my skin, tasting every inch of me he can reach.
“You always smell so good. Like fucking pears and honey. I can never get enough of your scent, Aundrea.”
My head falls back onto his shoulder when he cups my breasts firmly, then begins to rub my breasts, massaging them roughly while rocking his hips into me.
“Look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself as I play with you.”
The passion and foreplay at the beginning of any sexual encounter with Parker is always exciting.
I crave this part, right here. The way I tingle with each touch. The way I ache and throb for him. The electricity that pulls me to him.
“Parker,” I breathe.
“Don’t worry, babe. I got you.”
His hands move from my breasts and I moan at the loss. I don’t have to wait long before they’re back, running up my thighs and under my skirt. He holds one thigh while he trails a hand to my wet center.
“I love that you’re ready for me,” he groans.
He slips a finger inside the cotton and taunts me, tracing along the outer edges of my slick folds. I quiver from his touch, begging him for more as my knees shake.
Parker wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. “Do you feel how wet you are? How much you’re craving me, want me inside of you? I can almost feel your tightness wrapped around me and hear the sounds you’ll make.”
