And would they really do it? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Would they?
Somewhere in her, she believed they would.
“Are we walking around or sneaking out the back?” Brett said, almost to himself.
She squeezed his hand. “If we go down that back hall and past the restrooms, there’s the alley,” she whispered to her coconspirator in crime. Possibly a crime against themselves, against each other.
We’re doing this together and we are the only two players. Breathe you dimwit . . .
“Good girl,” Brett said, his lips pressed to her hair. “You’re so fucking smart. I want to put my hands under that skirt and get you off right here, in this crush of drunken people and college kids and locals. I want to fuck you with my fingers until you clutch that bar and beg me to take you.”
He said all of this into her ear, his breath hot, his voice soft.
Alexandra felt her knees sag a bit. His dirty confession was completely unexpected.A
breathtaking blindside that made her feel that at any moment her ligaments and muscles would give up the ghost and she would fall.
“God, stop.” But she didn’t mean it.
He handed her a beer, grinning. “Drink up.” He tipped his cold beer mug to hers and she shivered at his mouth on the rim. His mouth always did weird things to her insides if she let herself watch him.
“Cheers,” Alexandra said. “To liquid courage.”
Brett kissed her lips and said into her ear, so only she could hear. “And back alley blow jobs and my gorgeous little whore of a wife.”
Alex trembled, a nervous laugh flying off her lips to be recognized only by Brett. All the others were ignoring them. For now.
As soon as she started to feel the effects of the beer, she squeezed Brett’s hand. A cluster of smokers had pushed out the back door into the alley, so she knew there was an audience and they would be seen—that was the point.
“Last chance to bail,” he said, kissing her full force, putting their mugs on the bar and pulling her into him so she could feel the hard rod of his cock in his black jeans. “I won’t say a word if it’s no. I won’t. You’re safe with me.” He kissed her harder.
She knew she was and that was exactly why Alexandra tugged his hand and pulled him to the long narrow hallway that smelled like spilled beer, cigarettes and urine from the restrooms. Under the dark smell of the hallway lilted the earthy scent of pot and the dirty street odor of the city. Alexandra pushed the door back with her bottom. Her skirt raising up for a second, the warm splintery wood caressing the bare backs of her thighs for a moment.
When they hit the alley they were both so wound up, so head over heels turned on it was almost as if no one was really there after all. But others were there. A few men were lounged against the alley wall about six feet away. Two more smoked over by a dumpster. All within good view of the couple and what they were about to do. But to Alex it was as if they were the only two bodies in that filthy cobblestone alley.
Brett pushed her flush to the brick wall. His hands inching under her short blue skirt—gas flame blue, cobalt blue, the blue of his first Chevy he always told her. His mouth pushed against hers, his tongue bullying hers until she simply caved, letting him direct the kiss and pull her under. She bent to his will as he pushed his fingers under her small skirt and started to rub her clit through her panties. Never ever breaking that kiss.
She heard one of the onlookers grunt—almost pig-like—and when Brett pushed his fingers past the tiny elastic barrier of her panties and shoved his fingers deep into her pussy, she nearly came that second. Instead he kissed her harder and another man coughed softly while still another laughed.
Somewhere in her, she believed they would.
“Are we walking around or sneaking out the back?” Brett said, almost to himself.
She squeezed his hand. “If we go down that back hall and past the restrooms, there’s the alley,” she whispered to her coconspirator in crime. Possibly a crime against themselves, against each other.
We’re doing this together and we are the only two players. Breathe you dimwit . . .
“Good girl,” Brett said, his lips pressed to her hair. “You’re so fucking smart. I want to put my hands under that skirt and get you off right here, in this crush of drunken people and college kids and locals. I want to fuck you with my fingers until you clutch that bar and beg me to take you.”
He said all of this into her ear, his breath hot, his voice soft.
Alexandra felt her knees sag a bit. His dirty confession was completely unexpected.A
breathtaking blindside that made her feel that at any moment her ligaments and muscles would give up the ghost and she would fall.
“God, stop.” But she didn’t mean it.
He handed her a beer, grinning. “Drink up.” He tipped his cold beer mug to hers and she shivered at his mouth on the rim. His mouth always did weird things to her insides if she let herself watch him.
“Cheers,” Alexandra said. “To liquid courage.”
Brett kissed her lips and said into her ear, so only she could hear. “And back alley blow jobs and my gorgeous little whore of a wife.”
Alex trembled, a nervous laugh flying off her lips to be recognized only by Brett. All the others were ignoring them. For now.
As soon as she started to feel the effects of the beer, she squeezed Brett’s hand. A cluster of smokers had pushed out the back door into the alley, so she knew there was an audience and they would be seen—that was the point.
“Last chance to bail,” he said, kissing her full force, putting their mugs on the bar and pulling her into him so she could feel the hard rod of his cock in his black jeans. “I won’t say a word if it’s no. I won’t. You’re safe with me.” He kissed her harder.
She knew she was and that was exactly why Alexandra tugged his hand and pulled him to the long narrow hallway that smelled like spilled beer, cigarettes and urine from the restrooms. Under the dark smell of the hallway lilted the earthy scent of pot and the dirty street odor of the city. Alexandra pushed the door back with her bottom. Her skirt raising up for a second, the warm splintery wood caressing the bare backs of her thighs for a moment.
When they hit the alley they were both so wound up, so head over heels turned on it was almost as if no one was really there after all. But others were there. A few men were lounged against the alley wall about six feet away. Two more smoked over by a dumpster. All within good view of the couple and what they were about to do. But to Alex it was as if they were the only two bodies in that filthy cobblestone alley.
Brett pushed her flush to the brick wall. His hands inching under her short blue skirt—gas flame blue, cobalt blue, the blue of his first Chevy he always told her. His mouth pushed against hers, his tongue bullying hers until she simply caved, letting him direct the kiss and pull her under. She bent to his will as he pushed his fingers under her small skirt and started to rub her clit through her panties. Never ever breaking that kiss.
She heard one of the onlookers grunt—almost pig-like—and when Brett pushed his fingers past the tiny elastic barrier of her panties and shoved his fingers deep into her pussy, she nearly came that second. Instead he kissed her harder and another man coughed softly while still another laughed.
