Page 10 of Sour Notes

Maybe it’s because his broad chest muscles ripple against my back, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve experienced since...

Or maybe I’ve had too much to drink? Although it’s only my first cocktail and I haven’t even finished it so I’m 99.9% sure that’s not the case.

Am I so desperate for a dicking that this psycho crowding me against the railing with his body has me flooding my panties?

Well, I would be flooding my panties if I was wearing any.

Instead, I’m all too aware of how needy I am because the cold air blowing against my exposed wet pussy makes me shiver.

When he leans the knife on the railing—plastic, so I’m gonna assume he’s here for the party and not an actual serial killer—I move his arm to circle my waist, resting his hand on my corset. His body, a solid wall of muscle, presses right up against me.

Fuck, his touch sends shockwaves everywhere. It feels good. So good.

Am I going to do this?

I don’t even know what this dude looks like, though he smells hot.

One wild night.

Fuck it.

This is more exciting than anything going on inside. I let my head drop back onto his shoulder and close my eyes, a satisfied rumble coming from him at the move.

His hand lightly strokes the satin corset, leaving me tingling all over, while the other stays braced on the railing.

Swallowing hard, I suck in a deep breath before grasping his hand and running it slowly down my tummy, over the tulle layers of the skirt I’ve pulled up, until I bring it to my bare pussy.

He mutters a raspy curse as his fingers flex and make contact, finding me soaking. His touch sends another jolt through me as I let go of his hand to reach up and wrap my arm around his neck, my hand gripping the soft, wavy hair curling above the collar of his leather jacket.

Wide, calloused fingers dip into my wetness, soaking his fingertips, before dragging them up to circle my clit. The cool night air adds a tingle, and I gasp, pressing my head harder onto his shoulder.

The leather sleeve of his jacket teases the skin on my inner thighs as his hand travels lower where he plunges two thick fingers deep inside me.

“Fuck yesss, just like that,” I pull his hair and grip his other arm, moving my hips to meet his thrusts, pushing his fingers deeper.

Other than an occasional grunt, he hasn’t said another word.

It’s so silent and still, all I can hear are the sounds my pussy makes around his fingers.

If anyone walks out here, there’s no way they won’t hear it.

That thought sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. Anyone could catch us, but I can’t bring myself to care. If anything, this hussy loves the idea.

Apparently, I’ve got an exhibitionist streak.

Should I be freaked out by his silence? Probably. But something about him feels… safe.

And right now I need this more than I need answers.

It’s been months.

His other hand leaves the railing to cup my breast, before sliding his fingers inside my corset to fondle my nipple. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest as he discovers my piercing.

His touch feels familiar, like my body knows him, even though my brain can’t place it.

Any sane person would probably question it, right? But fuck, this is so hot, I don’t want to. I love the mystery of my silent masked man having his way with me.

My pussy pulses against his fingers, the weight of his hard cock pressing into my ass. It’s huge, even through the layers of my skirt. My blood burns with excitement, my brain spinning, imagining how we must look.