SEXT

“Fuck, Zayne,” I hiss between gritted teeth.

“What did I tell you?” he murmurs, his voice lost in my hair, as he buries his face against the back of my head, drawing me close against him. “You’ll have to stay very quiet… But I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

I twist against him, trying to ease up the pressure. But the pleasure is too much. He knows exactly where to touch me, exactly when and how. He presses his forefinger against my clit as he continues to fuck me, and the sensation makes my whole body jerk, an electric shock straight to my nerve endings.

At the same time, he flattens his other hand against my back, bending me forward. I grab the seats in front of me, hang onto them as he thrusts up into me. At this angle, his cock drags along my inner front wall, the tip pressing right across my G-spot, at the same time that he keeps fingering my clit. Spots cloud my vision, and I have to bite my lip to keep it shut, to silence the cry that threatens to escape at any second.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Can you come quietly for me, Clove?” Zayne’s voice is a whisper, a breath against the nape of my neck, which makes all the hair there stand on end.

In response, all I can manage is a faint moan, deep in my throat, where I try to keep it lodged as the pressure builds inside me toward a peak.

“That’s it,” he urges me on, and I sense him tensing too. His thrusts take on a wilder, less controlled speed, as he nears his edge too. “Come for me, Clove.”

I can’t help it. I cry out faintly, just at the same time that another deafening roar sounds from the screen, thankfully drowning me out, as my orgasm sweeps through me. My body shakes against Zayne, and he pins me against him, keeps thrusting into me, holding my hips down against his, as my pussy tightens convulsively. I keep my eyes open, but all I can see are kaleidoscope colors, the world seeming to fade away in the rush of electricity flooding my veins.

He comes soon after me, with a soft growl against my neck, and we both gasp again as his hot cum rushes deep into my pussy. He sinks back into the seat, but I keep going, keep rocking against him in a slow, steady motion, milking every last drop from him until we both collapse, panting, our legs slick with sweat, hearts pounding in our ears.

The movie plays on, as boring as ever, and almost on cue, one of the characters cracks a lifeless, dull joke. We both laugh, breathless, hearts racing, amazed at what we just got away with.

Now one of the other theater goers does turn around to glare in our direction, but I’m already sliding off Zayne’s lap, pulling my skirt down, savoring the hot burn in my pussy, the tight sensation, almost painful, yet a good kind of sore, where his cock was buried a moment ago.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he whispers into my hair, and I turn to catch him in a deep, slow kiss. I can taste sex in that kiss, in the air between us. When we break apart, we rest our foreheads against each other’s, and he cups his hands around my face on either side, as though shutting out the rest of the world. There’s nobody but us, nobody who matters besides the two of us.

“Clove…”

“Zayne.” I catch myself smiling like an idiot. I can’t help it. He always makes me this way. Giddy, almost insane with pleasure.

“Do you want to get out of here?” His eyes glint with mischief.

I let my hand trail down his neck, along his arms, until I’m gripping his wrists with both hands, his hands still cupping my face. “Fuck yes.”

We leave the theater, hands clasped, giggling like teenagers at yet another horribly cheesy line of dialogue. One of the old men sitting near the exit door hisses at us to “shush,” but that only sets us off into another bout of loud laughter, especially once the theater doors swing shut behind us and we’re safe in the lobby hallway.

“I cannot believe we just did that,” I gasp between laughs.

Zayne pulls me against him and plants a long, slow kiss on my lips. “You are fucking amazing. Have I told you that yet?”

“You might have mentioned it.” My eyes sparkle.

He lifts a single eyebrow, smirking. “If I have,” he says, “then I haven’t mentioned it nearly often enough. Because you are. Genuinely.”

I swallow around a sudden lump of emotion in my throat. “You are too,” I murmur, though it doesn’t feel like enough, doesn’t explain what I feel for him, not really.

That’s okay. We have time to say it. All the time in the world.