Page 42 of Pieces of Us

Storming in, I fight the urge to let out a blood-curdling scream. I didn’t want to let him get to me, but he did. And I retaliated, taking the bait like a dumb fucking fish.

‘Amity, what the fuck was that?’ Lincoln roars, barging in behind me. He’s got my wallet in his hand as if it’s a bargaining chip, and the only way to get it back is to get closer to him.

‘Give me my wallet.’ I don’t address the fact that he’s not supposed to be in here.

‘No. Tell me what the fuck that was. You can’t just say that shit and expect me to continue watching sweaty fucking men wrestle each other when I’ve got the hard-ons of all hard-ons. When, Jesus, did you learn how to talk like that?’

I feel victorious, knowing I turned him on, but also pissed at myself for feeling giddy.

‘How would you know what I’m even like now? We haven’t had sex in over seven years. You wouldn’t have any idea what makes me wet. How to get me to come. How to get me to scream your name. Or how to fuck me so good, I wish your cock lived inside me.’ It’s like my mouth isn’t even connected to my brain. Why the fuck am I antagonising him?

This conversation only ends in one of two ways. With him fucking the shit out of me, or one of us getting murdered. I don’t know whether his stare is lustful or lethal. Maybe we have sex, and then he can kill me.

In a split second, he backs me into one of the stalls and smashes the door shut, locking it without looking and slamming his lips on mine. All rationale leaves my body, and I’m pliant from his touch.

‘No,’ I mumble, but it comes out sounding like a garbled plea, especially when his fingers are at the juncture of my neck, pinning me to the wall. His other hand shoves its way down my shorts, making contact with the lace of my sopping wet G-string.

He kisses me roughly, pushing the lace further into my clit, stealing what little air I have left. This dizzy, euphoric feeling is caving in on me, with my only respite and thirst for breath coming in the form of his lips moving to my ear. ‘Mine,’ he growls, sucking my lobe into his mouth, which is a direct line to my aching clit.

I know in the back of my mind that I definitely should not be doing this, but every other sense isn’t allowing me to stop.

I bang my head back on the wall as his lips descend down my body. He bypasses what I consider my best asset—my breasts—in search for a new place to kiss. On his knees, he pulls my shorts down my legs and rips my G-string from my body, tossing it over the stall. I have a thousand pieces of lingerie from sponsors, so I’m not too fussed that he’s made my underwear into scraps, but I’m annoyed he felt how wet they are. He shouldn’t know he still elicits this reaction from me.

Feelings of anger evade me when his tongue drops to explore my pussy, fucking me with it.

Jesus Christ, was it always this good?

He’s definitely grown up since the last time we did this.

I’m certain that someone should pass a law for it to be illegal for men to shave their stubble. The scratch feels so fucking damn good that I want to claw at the back of his head so he remains in this exact spot for eternity.

My knees are weakening into an earth-shattering shake, and as if on cue, he repositions my legs over his shoulders.

‘I’ve missed you so fucking much, Hart,’ he mutters before biting my clit and sucking it into his mouth.

I must be having an out-of-body experience, because I feel as if I’ve floated out of my body and am looking down at this glorious man eating me out. ‘My fucking pussy,’ he growls. His feral grunts mingle with my whines as I’m teetering closer to the edge. His fingers thrust in and out of me. The sounds are obscene but add to how hot and forbidden this encounter is. After my juices dribble down his chin, he pulls my lips apart and blows soft air on me, making me quake. I try to close my eyes, push him away with my hand—anything—because the sensation is too much, but he doesn’t let me. He slaps my clit as punishment.

‘Oh, God. Oh, God,’ I chant, thankful the crowd is cheering loud enough to drown out my cries.

‘That’s it, baby. Cum all over my face.’ I explode into shrapnel. ‘That’s it, baby, fucking soak me.’ Without warning, my climax incinerates through me, decimating everything else but this moment. My body draws tight as a silent scream rips through my throat. Clumsily, my body slumps and falls back against the wall.

Through blurred vision and choppy breaths, I peer down to see Lincoln, who looks like he’s worshipping me on his knees. The adoration and tender caress on my thighs is as if he’s in disbelief this just happened. ‘I missed doing that to your cunt, baby.’ You and me both, buddy, I think as I bang my head lightly on the wall behind me. I can see his stubbled jaw is covered in me, which he makes no effort to wipe up.

Neither of us speaks for a while. I’m unsure what to say at first. Without looking at him a moment further, I pull up my shorts and fiddle around for my wallet.

I turn away from him, trying to make sense of what I just allowed to happen.

I hear him stand. ‘Amity. Hart. Baby.’ I can hear there’s no regret in his voice, only concern for my mental fragility. I’m not acting aloof. I’m panicked because this shouldn’t have happened.

‘I hate you,’ I whisper, tears clogging my throat.

‘I know.’

‘Please, just let me go. I need more time.’

‘Hart.’

‘Stop calling me that! It kills me inside when you say that name. My name. The name you gave me. It’s too intimate. Affectionate. Meaningful. We aren’t any of those things anymore,’ I cry.

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