• Jill Marie Denton

His Three Friends | Mar 21, 2020

Part 2.5


I took his palm and escorted Shawn through the crowd to the back entrance. A muted, unoccupied alcove with an ancient payphone and antique cigarette machine remained as a memento from the bar’s prior years. I’d snuck back here many times before, looking for respite from the roar of the crowded bar on nights very similar to this one.


On those nights, though, Shawn wasn’t trailing behind me with a suspicious look on his face. When I turned back to face him, tucked into the alcove with him between me and the hall, he pulled his hand free to cross his arms.


“Sorry, it was a little crowded in there. And the front is too jammed to have any privacy.”


He nodded slowly and repeated, “What do you need?”


In a rehearsed move, I stepped into him on my thin heels, parting my lips and turning my head up slowly to capture his gaze. “Oh, I think you know.”


He fell victim as I’d hoped, his eyes refocusing on my painted lips. I sighed his name as my fingers tucked into his beltloops. His nose edged closer to mine as his breath quickened.


Suddenly he jerked free, pulling back with widened eyes. “No, come on. You don’t mean that. And I can’t do this. You’re my buddy’s wife. His widow. This isn’t okay.”


I released a deep breath. God, that word sucked. And I’d heard it far too many times today already.


“Your buddy’s dead,” I replied simply. “I’m here. And I need help.”


“I can’t help you,” Shawn countered, turning his back with a sharp exhale. “Not like this. It’s not right. Look, you’re an amazing person and…”


“Oh, spare me,” I threw back, grabbing his arm to turn him around. “Spare me the cliches, the sympathy, the pity. I came here tonight for release. I came here looking to let go. I can parade back into that bar and pick up some heathen, some piece of shit, sure, but I don’t want that. I don’t need that. I don’t need pickup lines, a routine, any nonsense. I don’t want to give my number out. And I don’t want you keeping an eye on me, either. All I want, all I need, is a little satisfaction from someone who knows me a bit better and won’t ask for anything else. Do you really want me to be with any of those pigheaded frat guys out there right now?”


I watched him wallow as I sauntered close, taking his palms to pull him gently toward me. I carefully wrapped them around his waist and tipped my head up again, taking on that dewy, needy expression he’d fallen for once already.


“Please, Shawn. Just this once. Give me what I need. I won’t ask again.”


He released a deep breath and slipped off his hat. His forehead, warm and a little damp, dropped to mine as he gathered me up close. I heard a deep groan rumble in his throat as his conscience warred with his growing desire. His palms slid up the smooth fabric of my dress to twist into my hair as I sighed softly against his lips.


And when our mouths met, I felt his body go pin straight and his breath catch.


In an instant, I was hefted up and backward onto the cigarette machine. He parted my knees and stepped between them, his lips greedy and hungry on mine. Exhilarated, I forced my fingers back into his hair, tugging gently to hear him gasp. His tongue swept over my lips, asking for entry as his palms clutched my hips and pulled me against his lap. The thin fabric between us did nothing to hide his growing excitement.


I tasted his tongue, the malty lager’s sweetness on it, as he grinded against me. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I guided his mouth down to my collarbone where I’d spritzed on a delicate scent. He lingered a moment, taking big greedy bites, before returning to my lips.


“These… these are awesome,” he whispered into the nape of my neck, running a palm down my leg and over my newest pair of heels. He dropped to his knees, taking my ankle in his hands and running his tongue along the edge where leather and skin met. My head tipped back as he tortured me, slipping off the shoes to nibble at my toes.


Feet, especially those clad in ankle-twisting heels, were his undoing. He’d eyed me in heels and had made many comments on them over the years. All the hours of shopping had paid off in spades this time.


His lips slowly traced their way back up to my inner thighs as I squirmed on the antique machine. “The office, over there,” I managed between moans. “Lights are off.”


His palms lifted me again and I wrapped around him like ivy as he carted me down the hall and pressed my back into the office door to swing it open wide. He pressed demandingly against me, pinning me against the door as his hands rucked up my skirt to caress the flesh below.


By the time he dropped me onto the paper-covered desk, I was winded and raring to go. He turned back to close the door and lock it before rounding on me again. In the dim glow of the computer monitor’s power button, with his eyes twinkling wickedly, he stripped off his jersey to reveal broad shoulders, toned chest and strong forearms, all dimpled with bruises and scars. When his fingers dashed for his fly, I couldn’t help but interrupt.


“Easy, killer,” I murmured as he stood tall, his eyes down on me. “Give me a chance.”


His grunt echoed around the cramped space as I forced his jeans over his hips. Without a moment’s pause, I licked my lips and swallowed him whole. His breathing hitched as I sped up and slowed down in intervals, lifting my hand up his chest to feel his heart pound under my palm. His knees trembled as he fought to stay standing.


When I pulled back for a breath, he shifted his weight, sitting me up and stepping between my thighs again. With my skirt hiked up around my waist and his pants in a heap on the floor, there was no barrier between us. His fingers swept in deep, rubbing rhythmically as I panted into his neck.


His eager lips muted my pitiful moans as he kept up his onslaught, twisting and swirling the pad of his thumb against me until I wept. I grinded desperately into his fingers as he rushed me toward the edge of a bottomless cliff. When the heat sparked a brush fire between my legs, he threw me mercilessly over the side, watching as my eyes hazed over. He continued palming the abused skin to force every tremble out of me as I quaked in fits and gasps.


His arms supported me, lying me back onto the desk as my lungs fought to keep up. As his sweat-slicked skin pressed to mine, he took the back of my neck in his palm, lifted my lips toward his and focused his forest green eyes on mine. They pled for approval, for permission, and for release.


I retrieved a condom from my bra cup. Pressing into his palm, I nodded once and captured his top lip with mine.


His hands moved quickly, stripping off my wrinkled dress and bra so he could bury his face in my breasts as his palms slid the latex on. I took two fistfuls of his hair and guided him to my mouth as he narrowed the gap between us. Grabbing my hips, he pulled me to the edge of the desk, against his lap and buried himself inside me in one swift, unapologetic motion.


His forehead, dewed from exertion, touched to mine as we panted and groaned in unison. His grasp kept my body in tight, bent at just the right angle to rub the spot he’d just desecrated. Every flex, every twitch brushed against that tortured skin, releasing little waves of pleasure down my spine like low tide.


When I growled, edging closer to a second fiery explosion, his thumb traipsed back to that damned spot, exploiting it while he kept up his forceful thrusting. He swallowed my pitiful moans with a palm cupping my neck. His arm supporting me as I writhed, squealed and erupted under him again.


Exhausted and with the world spinning, I went limp in Shawn’s arms. Laying me back on the desk, he climbed over me, sending papers sailing to the floor around us. His forearm snaked under my neck as he craned down to feast on my collarbone. And when he snuck back inside me, my eyes rolled back in my head.


He wasn’t done. Not nearly.


He continued to thrust, to moan through gritted teeth, as I reached out to stroke every inch of his flesh that I could reach. I curled my legs around his middle, pulling him in fiercely as his resolve began to waver. His eyes clamped shut as his body shuddered.


“Oh God, I’m…”


“Yes,” I purred into his neck. “Please, Shawn. Please.”


His back arched like a bow, lifting him off my chest as he climaxed. My eager fingers shot to his neck, holding him aloft as he struggled through ragged breaths. His overwhelmed body, taut muscle and slicked skin, weakened my resolve all over again.


Before he could regain his senses, I dragged him down to my lips again, nibbling and licking in reverie. Our foreheads touched once more before he pulled away. I reclined on the desk, panting and winded as he snickered.


The smell of his salty skin mixed with musk lingered on my fingers as I redressed in the dark. He was already done and perched on the edge of the desk, watching me put myself back together and smooth down my hair.


“I never expected my night to go like this,” he admitted. “Do you need a ride home?”


I shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. I just hope my coat’s still out there.”


“Shit, I bet my beer’s dumped by now, too.”


I chuckled lightly, stepping over to him. “I cost you a beer and kept you from the championship game. I’d say I was sorry but I’m not.”


“Me neither,” Shawn smirked. “How convenient that the boss left his office wide open and is MIA on such a big sports night in this town.”


“How convenient, indeed. Almost as if someone called him away on a sudden emergency.”


I escaped with a grin, sneaking back out into the hallway without another word.


{Part 3 coming Mar 28, 2020} <3 JMD

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