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I think I’m crying.
“I asked you a question.”
“I—” My voice comes out so fucking high-pitched. “Which one?”
Callum snorts. “Do you only want my cum inside you, love?”
It’s not fair he’s making it sound like it’s about him, rather than about the fact that I don’t want to get used by everyone in the bathroom. More guys walked in. Some, much older than me. All are staring at us, and I don’t doubt that if he gave the okay, all would pounce.
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Sorry, gentlemen. This pretty little doll is entirelymine.”
The last word comes with one thrust so deep the back of my skull hits the wall.
He’s sheathed inside me to the hilt, and I feel his cock rearrange my insides. Then he withdraws all the way and does it again.
It’s completely different from the steady, fast rhythm he tends to favor. The cadence is brusque, unyielding, painful.
I’m not going to last long. Ican’t.
“Please,” I whimper helplessly.
“Yes, love?”
“P—please let me come. Please.”
“You’re ready for my cum, then, huh?” I bob my head up and down, chanting my plea again and again in rhythm with his violent lunges.
Then he grabs hold of the knees still held up by the guys to our sides and puts my ankles on his shoulders, balancing my back on the wall again.
A third angle, and this one hits an impossibly sensitive bundle of nerves that has me screaming so hard it’s a miracle the police aren't barging in.
And a good thing too. I don’t need a bigger audience.
I thought it must be a fluke, but each time he moves, Callum triggers an incomprehensible explosion of senses inside me.
“Now,” he croaks, voice tight. “Come with menow, love.”
I lose it. My body collapses back against the wall as it explodes. If someone told me I’d died, I wouldn’t question it. His cock’s buried in me, heat gushing down my leg, coating my insides, so he must have come with me.
I can’t move, or talk, or think, completely useless as he straightens me up, leaning me forward on his warm chest rather than against the wall. He lowers one of my legs to the floor, then the other, but thankfully, Callum doesn’t expect me to be able to walk just yet; he’s holding me upright, one arm around my underarms, while the other caresses my hair.
His mouth is on my skull, pressed against my hair, and I hear a few sounds that seem gentle, like he’s cooing to a baby or something. I don’t mind any of that.
I don’t know how long it takes me to realize our audience is particularly appreciative, some guys clapping, others throwing their fists in the air like their favorite team just scored a goal.
“Do you loan her?” I hear someone ask.
“Hey, if you ever need a third?—”
“You guys are fire, man.”
I flush, realizing that everyone here has seen my face, and seen me do…all this. It’s not like stripping behind a mask, a whole stage away from the perverts paying for it. We did this here, in front of anyone who just wanted to walk in. And they all think I’m a whore now.
No, not think.
They know I am.
