His voice dances over my skin. He brushes a thumb over my nipple through the cotton of my top, then cups my breast. I arch into him, and he tugs my shirt down, so he can nip and suck at my collarbone.
“Last night after I left you, this morning before I went to you, today surrounded by everyone. All I wanted was to touch you again.”
With one hand massaging my breast, he drags his other down my body and caresses the spot between my legs. I whimper, widening my stance, and he hisses. I’m wet. I know he can feel it, the heat and dampness. Should I be this turned on? Is that normal? He rubs me over my leggings, taking my mouth again in another hungry kiss. His tongue massages mine as his hand works me below, and I find myself moving on him, gyrating my hips and pressing down to increase the friction.
“Fuck,” he growls into my mouth, then pulls back and looks me in the eyes. He watches my face as he brings his hand to my waist and slowly pushes it into my pants. He’s waiting for me to stop him, but I don’t.
When his fingers graze the skin just above my panties, my eyes fall closed in anticipation, and my head drops back against the wall. His hands are magic, and my heart is racing. The room is silent, but for our heavy breathing and the soft sounds of the game machines, as he slips his hand beneath the cotton of my underwear and brushes lightly over my clit.
“Yes,” I say on a sigh, and he slides his fingers lower, groaning when he finds my arousal pooling. A harsh breath leaves me as he circles my opening, pressing in just to the first knuckle, then pulling out and returning his attention to my clit. He rubs my wetness over the bundle of nerves in tight, quick circles, and a moan falls past my lips. It feels so different than my own fingers, the touch foreign and exciting.
“Jesus, Classic,” he says just before he kisses me once more.
As his tongue attacks my mouth, his fingers sink into me—first one, then two—and he curls them inside me, caressing, while grinding the palm of his hand against my clit. I move on him, back and forth, chasing the sparks that his hand is creating. He bites my lip, sucks on my tongue, moves his hot mouth to the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I tilt my head to the side for him.
I’m so caught up in him, in the sensations, that I don’t even flinch when his other hand slides beneath my shirt and bra and pinches my nipple. I rake my fingers through his hair, and his resounding growl sends shivers down my spine while pressure builds between my legs. I bring my hand down between the tangle of our bodies until I can grip his thick length through his clothes. I squeeze his hardness, and he grunts.
“You shouldn’t do that right now, baby.” His voice is deep, so deep, and rough. It makes everything about this moment feel hotter, and I writhe on his hand.
“I want to make you feel good,” I say, and he kisses me, then speeds up his movements.
“This does make me feel good,” he rasps into my mouth, then commands, “Tell me you want to come.”
The words fly off my tongue before I can think about them. “I want to come.”
It’s a plea, whispered and desperate. It doesn’t even sound like me, but the look on his face when I say it makes me clench around him. Jesse grabs my leg and hoists it onto his side, then he moves his body as if it’s not his fingers inside me, but his cock, thrusting his hips in time with his fingers, grinding and massaging, pushing me toward madness.
“That’s it,” he purrs, spurring me on. “That’s it.” He thrusts and curls inside me, presses his hips and erection into my hand, and sounds I’ve never heard before slip past my lips. “You’re going to come right here in this room. In public. People are just a few feet away from us. Does that make you hot, Classic?”
“Yes,” I whimper.
“You’re going to have to be quiet when you come,” he croons, as he moves his thumb to my clit, flicking and rubbing, a sensation wholly different from the roughness of his palm just seconds before. Different, but just as erotic.
“Like that,” I encourage, and he stays the course, bringing me right to the edge of my orgasm.
“Come,” he commands, then covers my mouth with his as I moan against him, clenching hard with my release, until my legs wobble and my heavy eyelids refuse to open.
My head rests against the wall, while my body is half propped by the pinball machine. Jesse’s hard chest is pressed into me and his mouth stays on mine. I feel him smile against my lips, wide and with teeth, and I smile back through ragged pants. Keeping my eyes closed, I open my mouth to speak, but our bubble of ecstasy is pierced by the clearing of a throat.
My eyes fly open, my body tenses, and Jesse’s grip on me tightens.
“Uh, guys,” Kelley says clearly, “the kids need to pee. We’ve been stalling, but they’re getting antsy, and I don’t think the little man can hold it much longer.”
“Shit,” I breathe out, but Jesse chuckles and scissors his fingers, which are still buried deep inside me. I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning, and I tug on his hair in warning. The fire in his eyes tells me it has the opposite effect.
“We’ll be right out,” he croaks, and I can hear Kelley’s footsteps as he walks away.
Jesse pulls out of me and sucks on his fingers. My jaw drops, and he smirks. This man is shameless. Then he fixes my shirt, straightening the collar where it’s been stretched and smoothing out the front. He tucks a few strands of hair behind my ears, then kisses me slowly. It’s a kiss I can get lost in if I let myself.
He moves back and gestures toward the door. I brush past him and take a few steps, then turn around. He’s watching me, leaning with his arm propped on the pinball machine.
“Are you...?” I nod my head in the direction of the dining room, and he grins again.
“In a minute,” he says, then gestures to the large tent in his shorts. “Should probably wait until this isn’t as noticeable.”
My hand shoots to my mouth, covering my laugh, and my eyes go wide.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and watch in awe as he moves his hand downward and grips himself.
“Don’t worry, Classic,” he says, gazing at me through dark, hooded eyes. “We’ll take care of this soon.”