Brick Walls

Major

I’m not sure why I just agreed to go to a wedding with a woman I hardly know. This was supposed to be a hot night of string-free sex, and now I’ve purposely tied a string to Violet. I like her. I like her a lot, and that concerns me. Going to a family function is usually a sixth or seventh date kind of event, and we haven’t even had a first. Not to mention that I don’t date anymore. I have sex with women and that’s it. I don’t want anything permanent, and as soon as Violet gets to know me, she won’t either.

I could have easily said no. I could have used the excuse that she claimed I would, but I didn’t want to. We haven’t slept together, but I know it’s going to be nothing short of spectacular. Just having my hand between her warm, soft legs has me on edge. There is but a thin thread of control keeping me from throwing this ravishing beauty over my shoulder and dragging her to the nearest hotel.

These people are all chatting about golf and rehearsals and telling stories about their childhood, and I’m trying to pay attention, but like my cock straining against my zipper, it’s hard. The further my hand creeps up her thigh, the more I think of how it’s going to feel when I slide inside of her hot, wet pussy. I want to hear her moan when I push in deep. I want to taste every inch of her inside and out. Every dip and curve of her sexy body needs exploring.

Fuck, we need to get out of here. Sadly, she moved my hand away from the hot spot I was about to tease when her family and friends were focused on us. Now that they’ve paired us up, they’ve gone back to drinking and talking about the upcoming week of wedding events. It’s the perfect time for us to slip out.

“Violet?” I whisper in her ear, interrupting her conversation with a loud, entertaining woman across the table. When she looks at me, I know it’s not going to take any convincing to get her out of here. She has bedroom eyes, the eyes that say I’m ready. I want you to take me home.

Home—I don’t take women home, but something about this woman makes me want her in familiar surroundings. Hotels are naked, unemotional cubicles meant for something temporary, something disposable. I’ve known Violet for all of an hour, but she doesn’t feel temporary or disposable. She feels comfortable and lasting.

“We need to leave,” I say, and she simply nods her head. I start to scoot out of the booth, but she squeezes and releases my hand. When I look back, she’s texting. Hopefully, she’s telling someone she’s leaving and won’t be back. When she’s finished, we slide out of the booth and she tells the group we are going to dance. We are going to dance—just not vertically and not here.

Just outside, she pauses and I feel tension rolling off her in waves. Right here, with the smell of the ocean thick in the air and the dark night folding in on us, I know it’s do or die time. I take her hand and lead her around the corner to a short alley and back her against the brick wall of the restaurant. I place my hands on either side of her head against the wall and cage her in. Her breath hitches, and I move in to cover her mouth with mine. She’s not leaving me. There will be no changing of minds. I’ll fix her with a voodoo spell if I have to, but I know I won’t.

When my mouth touches hers, I kiss her once softly before sliding my tongue out and along her bottom lip. She tastes like cake and alcohol. Red velvet martinis are fast becoming my favorite drink. Her skin smells of lavender—not the perfumed sort of lavender, but pure lavender like essential oils. Now there’s a thought. Oils.

Her hands have been pressed against the wall, but now she’s untucking my freshly changed shirt. I press my tongue against her soft, full lips and she allows me in. Our tongues dance and tangle until we’re out of breath. Our mouths open, but our lips never separate. Gasping and panting, her hands find their way into my shirt and up my back, pulling me against her body. Threading one hand into her hair behind her neck and the other down to the small of her back, I pull her against my solid cock and grind it into her abdomen. She gasps and dives back into our mind-numbing kiss, her nails digging into my back as I rhythmically push against her until I slide my hand down and pull her leg up around my waist so my cock is flush against her apex.

She surprises me by bracing herself against the wall and lifting her other leg to circle my waist. Her skirt is hiked up, and the only things separating us now are the thin material of her panties and the zipper of my pants. I pull away to look at her so she knows how fucking turned on that last little move made me, and I’m disarmed by her eager, flushed face. She’s so open and free. She hides nothing and offers everything. Her body and her emotions are exposed in such a rare way that it almost makes me feel guilty for wanting her . . . almost.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Violet. I think I’ve found my new favorite thing.”

One corner of her mouth lifts in a tiny smirk and I kiss her again, deeper, longer, and with more passion than I’ve felt in years. I slide my hand from the back of her knee to underneath her skirt and between our heated bodies and find her soaking wet for me.

“Fuck,” I moan between kisses. She inhales sharply when I push the strip of material aside and slip two long fingers inside her.

“I wanted to do this at the table earlier,” I say against her lips.

“I almost let you,” she says, panting.

I pull out and drag the slickness of her arousal forward to circle her clit, and she closes her eyes and throws her head back against the wall.

“Look at me, Violet.”

She immediately tips her head forward, opening her eyes. Holding her gaze, I continue to dip and slide my fingers around her clit while I watch her facial expressions transform from borderline control to wildly frantic. She presses the back of her head against the bricks, shaking it back and forth.

She’s close. This isn’t the way I imagined making her come for the first time. I can’t help but give it to her though. She’s so erotic, so uninhibited. Outside a restaurant, against this wall, in a very public area where anyone could happen upon us, I plunge my fingers deep and curl them around to stroke the front of her wall while circling her clit with my thumb.

I watch as this beautiful creature comes undone in my arms. She never breaks eye contact with me. She doesn’t throw her head back and make that ugly face that so many women do. Watching Violet come is like beautiful art. Her hands fly to the sides of my head, and she presses her forehead against mine. Her mouth opens in a stiff O, and when she releases, there is no sound until it’s almost over, and even then, only a soft moan escapes her lips. Perfection. God, I want to see her do that a million times. I want to video it so I can watch it over and over when we aren’t together. They say some drugs are addictive after the first hit. Watching Violet come is instantly addictive. I need to get her underneath me, on top of me, on her knees in front of me. I’ve never needed to be inside a woman more.