Page 84 of Out Of Time

“This is becoming a bad habit of ours, ya know?” she said as his mouth sucked at the skin below her ear.

“You mean fucking in public?” he asked.

“Yeah. I hate how much I like it.”

“Let’s call it a tradition then, it sounds worse when you call it a bad habit.”

His leg pushed between hers and she let her body roll against the dark denim of his jeans, her black faux leather skirt hiked up around the fishnets she wore under it.

The bathroom door swung open and a drunk man stumbled out, looked at them, and slurred, “Niiiiiice,” giving them an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Max pulled her away from the wall and tugged her into the graffiti-covered bathroom stall. Band stickers, political posters, and things like“Natalie Jane Rudolph is a dick biter”written on the walls only made the small restroom look even more grungy than Max had anticipated.

“This is not up to my cleanliness standards,” Remi joked.

“It could be worse?” Max asked.

“It could,” she said, pulling him into her, her ass up against the chipped porcelain sink that was hanging on to the wall for dear life.

A small puddle of water under the sink made for dirty footprints that seemed to be etched into the existence of thisbathroom—it probably hadn’t been mopped since The Pig Pen opened in the ‘80s.

Max brought his hand between her legs and began to massage her over the fish nets and panties she wore. His mouth crashed against hers in a punishing kiss as her hands tugged at his zipper. The band started a new song on the other side of the wall and the deep bass line rattled the janky mirror that seemed to only be held up with double-sided tape and grime.

Remi worked Max’s jeans down to his knees, pulling his briefs with them, his dick springing free, hard and ready.

Max spun her around and her hands braced the sink in anticipation. The moment arose, and their frantic need to see it through had them both pushing aside all rationale. Remi raised her ass for him in a teasing wiggle as he hiked her skirt up around her waist. Tangling his fingers in the holes of her fishnets Max ripped them open. Pulling her thong to the side he lined up his erection with her entrance, his thick head pressing and teasing against her.

With both hands on her ass, he pulled her cheeks apart, and with one quick motion, he pushed himself deep inside her. Remi gasped at the sudden fullness of him, bottoming out against her.

“This is so fucking hot,” she moaned, locking eyes with him in the battered mirror.

“Hold on,” he warned, preparing her for what came next.

She moved her hands to press against the graffiti-covered wall in front of her, and right as she braced herself, he pulled out to the tip and slammed back into her, gripping her hips as his body crashed against hers, the timeworn sink rattling against the wall.

“Oh fuck,” she said. “So good, so deep.”

He did it again, and again. Finding his footing and holding her tight, Max used her body to hold on to as he began to pound into her from behind. The sound of their bodies smackingtogether was almost loud enough to drown out the music on the other side of the wall.

Remi moaned, and it was deeper than she had sounded in the past. “Faster,” she encouraged. “I want to feel it tomorrow. Make me remember this in the morning, Max.”

Max lost it. He had never felt so out of control and yet completely in control at the same time. Remi’s head fell back. She was saying his name, over and over, every time he slammed into her again.

“Too much?” he managed, a little worried he was being too rough.

“No, please don’t—” she faltered, a whimper escaping her before she finished. “Don’t stop, just, ohhh, oh shit,” she moaned, and he knew he had her, he knew she was coming.

“I’m going to—” he said, and before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off.

“Do it. Go ahead. I want it.”

Max pulled her body against his with one last smack of skin against skin, as he came, buried deep inside her.

“That was kind of wild,” Remi said, looking back up into the mirror as Max slowly pulled out.

“Kind of wild? We just fucked in a bathroom at a punk show on Christmas Eve.”

“A story for the grandkids,” she teased as Max pulled the last of the paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to her, suddenly feeling guilty that she had to deal with the mess—hismess.

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