Scratch the Surface

“Oh yeah?” He walked deeper into the stall, into my space, so I had to step backward, almost straddling the toilet as he closed the door behind him. “What do I look like?”

I took a breath. “I didn’t pay you,” I blurted out.

His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. “Well, that answers that,” he spat, turning fast.

I pushed forward, pinning him against the door so he couldn’t open it, terrified that he’d walk out and that would be the end.

“Lemme go, since you think all I am is a fuckin’ whore who––”

“No,” I gasped, letting my head clunk down on his shoulder, savoring the feel of being plastered to his back, my semi-hard dick pressed to his ass, my hands slipping immediately to his hips, holding on for dear life. “I meant to say you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I husked, feeling the heat of raw, hungry desire rush through me. “And when I woke up, I was embarrassed I hadn’t paid you. You were everything I ever dreamed of, but I was so stupid; I didn’t even get your name.”

He relaxed against me, and I lifted my head because the back of his neck was utterly too tempting not to brush my lips over. The tremble that caused him to jolt against me as I grazed his skin made me catch my breath.

He turned his head, taking several deep breaths before he spoke, his voice deep and low. “I was gonna drive back after my shift tonight. It would’ve been late, but––”

“Yes,” I gasped, pressing against him tighter, impulsively kissing over his jaw, his chin, loving the feel of the beard against my lips, and finally, his mouth, moaning loudly as he turned into me so I could reach him. I drove my tongue between his lips, hands on the sides of his neck as he levered off the door and I stepped back while still kissing him breathless.

The way he clutched me to his hard chest, one hand cradling my head, the other on the small of my back, pressing me closer, a hand sliding to my ass, let me know I wasn’t the only one who’d been left wanting more.

My whimper was loud, and I would have been embarrassed, but with Jeremiah it seemed right to let him know, without a doubt, he was causing this reaction in me. I needed to be closer, and, more than anything, I wanted him naked.

It was touch and go for a moment, because I was ready to bend over the toilet and let him have me right there.

There were noises then, other people coming in, and he broke the kiss and moved around me, taking a seat on the toilet and caging me again, this time between his legs as he lifted them and braced his feet on the door.

I stood over him, panting, and he stared up at me, shaking his head.

“What?” I mouthed the word.

“This is nuts,” he whispered back.

I shrugged and bent toward him, putting my hand on his shoulder, holding tight, leaning over until my mouth was next to his ear. “I want your number. Now,” I demanded, which was also not like me. I was in over my head, but somehow it didn’t matter.

Other phones were going off, so when he passed me his from his back pocket, I immediately called mine. It rang once and I killed it, passing his phone back to him and pulling mine from my back pocket. Checking it, I saved his number, smiling as I did it. He was staring up at me. I tipped my head in question.

“Your face,” he whispered. “It was like…doing that, saving my number, made you pretty happy.”

It was a wonder I wasn’t glowing.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” he told me, half whispering, half mouthing the words. “You should nap.”

“Don’t call and don’t change your mind,” I warned him, bending close again, my lips grazing his ear, my breath ghosting down the side of his neck. “Just show up. I want to see you.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised, leaning in and catching my mouth, sucking on my bottom lip, drawing a hoarse moan from the back of my throat.

“Man, don’t push,” someone cautioned me. “That’s how you get hemorrhoids.”

I laughed into Jeremiah’s mouth, and he swallowed the sound, kissing me until the mirth was gone and only whimpering need remained. When the room was empty again, he left me, swearing to show up, adjusting himself as he stepped out of the stall, every bit as turned on as I was even though we were grown-ups, not horny teenagers who happened to find themselves making out in a bathroom.

Returning to the table, I took my seat beside Drake, noting that the Bowens were no longer there.

“What happened?” I asked the group.