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“So much sweet cum,” says Melissa as she swallows the last little bit I’ve given her, and seals it with a tongue-heavy kiss on my lips — one that tastes strongly of my seed. But it’s not a turnoff. If anything, it makes me even warmer.
“I do believe I’ve milked you dry, sir.” As Melissa murmurs this going in for a second kiss, I pull her toward me. I make her sit on my lap as she kisses me while I get my hand into the front of her pants.
Even without my cock in her, her pussy is already wet, slick, and ready for me. I can tell by the juice on her lower lips. I also feel her legs trembling, begging me to spread them and enjoy her.
I will, but out of this bathroom and out of the public eye.
As it is, I can hear someone coming toward our makeshift love nest. A very sporty, jock-sounding guy. Someone I’m not eager to have find us fooling around. I give Melissa one final kiss, being sure to run my tongue along the roof of her mouth before pushing her from my lap and onto her feet.
“I want you,” I whisper. “Badly. But not here. Not now.”
Right as I whisper this, the door to the bathroom comes open, and a new pair of feet traverse the floor. The feet stop in front of one of the urinals, and within a few seconds, Melissa and I both hear the sound of piss draining into the porcelain.
Melissa looks at me, appearing extremely flushed and excited. She’s so red around her mouth and cheeks, you’d think she’d come down with a fever. “At my place then,” she whispers. “I think we’ve done enough shopping for today.”
Over her whispered words, the man shakes himself off, zips himself up, and leaves the bathroom. All without seeming to notice or care about the fact that two people are in a stall together. Which is fine by me. I’m ready to put the shopping behind us and get back to Melissa’s. Where I plan to taste her fully if that’s what she desires.
I stand up from the toilet, put my cock back in my pants, zip-up, and volunteer to be the first out the door. As I unlock the stall door and step outside into the main bathroom, I say, “Maybe after I take you, we can order takeout.”
Melissa slips out of the stall and out from behind me. Quickly, she goes to grab all of our shopping bags. Enough for at least two or three in each hand, and says, “Lovely. If it means we get to stay in longer, then I’m all for it.” With that, she exits out of the bathroom, making me watch every swish of her hips and every shake of her ass as she goes.
By the way she looks back at me over her shoulder, I know she knows how crazy she’s making me. And that just makes me love her — and want her — all the more.
Chapter Forty-Five
Melissa
With my mouth still tingly from giving Tommy the blow job I’ve been dreaming of giving him for at least a week now, we leave our secret hideaway, and head back through the fancy cobblestone pathways flowing through the outdoor mall, to the parking lot, where my car is no doubt baking in the sun.
While we started our shopping adventure in the early morning, it is now late afternoon. At least two or three p.m., based on the position of the sun. Although my stomach should be bugging me for food by now — usually, it’s growling and gurgling up a storm right at noon — the only hunger I feel is in my pussy.
With these thoughts to preoccupy me as I adjust my hold on the various bags in my fingers and make my way toward where we left the car, I can’t take my eyes off Tommy. The roundness of his ass. The strength and steadiness of his step. The bit of heat I can see growing on the back of his neck, and around to his jawline.
The moment we are within sight of my parked car, I take out my keys, press a small button on a keychain control, and unlock the doors. While I’m loading the various bags in the back — including Tommy’s smaller bag, the one he’s been clutching the entire time — he gets in the passenger side, buckles himself up, and closes the door.
Far from feeling insulted or left behind by this gesture, I’m made more excited and turned on. It’s hard to explain, but, by being left to pack the car, while my boss sits and waits on me, that’s sexy. It makes me feel like his personal pet or slave, but without the “you’re my bitch” connotations this used to have with Dennis.
