Nathan and I had been shopping at the mall for about two hours when his patience starting wearing out. We were looking for gifts for both of our families, but he was clearly bored and antsy and, well, a little bit annoying. Right until he saddled up behind me as I leaned over a display of sweaters. His large hands gripped my waist, then glided down over my hips, grinding slightly – and inappropriately – against my ass.
"Nate," I hissed, batting a hand at him. And then I felt the swell of his penis rub into me, through both our jeans, and I blushed. "Jesus, Nate –"
He whipped one hand into my hair, gripping it close to my scalp, and yanked me back against him. He pressed his face to where his fingers twisted in my hair just over my ear, and his lips brushed against my cheek. "I'm going to fuck you. Now."
I glanced around, frantic, but this particular department was heavily clogged with displays of clothing, and no one could see us unless they came close. Probably not, anyway. My breath hitched in my throat. I liked the manhandling, and if we were at home, I would be melting at the firmness in his voice and his uncompromising grip . . . but we weren't at home. "Look, let me just look in a few more stores, and then we're out of here, I promise," I said, stiffly, my neck arched backwards against him. "And we can do whatever you want."
"I said now," he reminded me, then released me. I spun quickly, my rear end against the sweater display. "I told you weeks ago . . . I want to fuck you in a public restroom."
"Yes, but –"
"Now," he said simply. "Do you have anything else to say?"
What he meant was, did I need to use the safe word? Because we had one. But I tried, desperately, to not have to use it. I liked our games, and I loved feeling out of control. He had warned me that this was something he wanted, and I had confessed that public sex had always terrified me. The idea thrilled me, sure, but there was so much possible humiliation. And the possibility of getting in trouble. I was, publically speaking, a good girl. I did what I was supposed to do, I followed the rules. If it was left up to me, the terror would
always
outweigh the thrill.
But, unless I wanted to utter the dreaded safe word, it was not currently up to me.
He led me to a men's restroom in the back corner of the department store. He walked in first, and once the coast was clear, he shoved the door open, and I stepped inside. I'd somehow been expecting a men's restroom to be something that belonged at a truck stop despite its location in a nice mall, and I was pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness. That seemed positive, despite the row of urinals.
"The stall," Nate hissed. I pushed open the handicapped stall door, and we both stepped inside. He grabbed my purse and set it on the handicap bar. Not sanitary, but I was relieved it wasn't the floor. "Get on your knees."
I dragged my teeth across my lower lip and let out a nervous breath. "Nate, are you sure –"
"You had your chance to get out of this, Cadence," Nate replied. "Knees. Don't make me tell you a third time."
"Did you lock the door?" I couldn't help squeaking out. I didn't think he did, and I could feel panic and arousal both strumming in my stomach. Nate grabbed my hair again, roughly pulling me against him, and bit my ear lobe.
"You made me ask again," he said, but he didn't sound disappointed. His teeth scraped over my skin, and I shivered. His hand skimmed over my summery dress, then hooked on the neckline, catching the cups of my bra and baring my breasts, leaving them perched on the taut material. His fingers clenched around my nipples, tugging sharply downward, and I gasped. "Knees. Now. You'll be punished for that."
It was on the tip of my tongue to request he at least lock the stall door, but the mention of punishment sent a scorching punch of desire through my system. I didn't want to be punished, not here, but a good, hard spanking was delicious. I sank to my knees, pushing the thin cotton of my dress underneath me so my skin wasn't touching the bathroom floor. Nate noticed and smirked, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just lifted his shirt slightly, exposing his belt and zipper. My hands made quick work of these, and in moments, I eased out his thick cock.
As usual, just looking at him made my pulse quicken. I lifted it gently and slid my tongue along the hot underside, flattening my tongue as I reached the tip, then slowly engulfing the silk-soft head in my mouth. I heard his sharp exhale as the first moment of heat set in, and I started to lean back to return to licking him, but Nate had a different idea. He fisted his hand in my hair and pushed me forward, his cock filling my mouth. I made a muffled noise, not protest, just surprise, and quickly breathed in through my nose. His cock pushed forward until it hit my throat, and I fought back my gag reflex, breathing slowly. He pulled back slightly, giving me a moment to relax, then pushed in again.
The second time I was ready, taking him in nearly all the way. There was always the last inch or so that I couldn't quite capture. He loosened his grip as I instinctively followed the familiar dance. I gazed up at him, feeling the first real glimmer of submissiveness: my knees curled beneath me on the bathroom floor, my breasts displayed for him over my dress, his dick filling my senses, and his hand controlling my motions. I could feel myself getting wet.
Nate pumped into my mouth, meeting my eyes with the slightest quirk of a smile playing at his mouth. "Your mouth is made for this," he said huskily. He closed his eyes, letting me please him for another minute, then tugged my hair, separating our skin. "Get up, Cadence. On the toilet."
"What?" I squeaked.
"Well, take off your panties first," he amended. "Then on the toilet. On your knees. Facing the wall."
Gross. It looked clean enough, but I knew it had to be disgusting. I reached beneath my dress at my hips, only exposing a little of my legs as I removed my panties and tucked them into my purse. He lifted an eyebrow. "The longer you make this take, the more likely someone walks in on us," he reminded me. My breath quickened, and, shaking, I knelt on the toilet as he'd requested. It was smooth and slightly curved, and my legs wobbled, out of bad balance or fear, I'm not sure. "Put your hands on the wall," he said.
I lifted my palms to the wall and drew in a shaky breath. My flip-flops, hanging tenuously from my toes, finally fell off. Nate kicked them out of the way. "Maybe we should stop," I whispered, my nerves flooding back now that we weren't touching.
"Chicken shit," he muttered, but I could hear the smile in his voice. My dress bunched upward, exposing me to the cool, stale air of the bathroom. It tightened as he pulled it together so that he could hold the fabric in one hand. I could feel the fingertips of his other hand tapping my inner thighs, encouraging me to widen my stance. I gave a hiccupy little gulp. He gave a soft chuckle, his fingers dipping between my legs and coming away slick. "You don't feel so chicken shit here."
"There's something wrong with me," I muttered, but I couldn't argue that I was turned on. He did this to me, rattled me. I wanted to hide, to argue, but I also wanted to see what would happen. Feel how it would feel. Do something . . . naughty. Then immediately apologize.
He laughed, then skimmed his hands up my body and yanked me back against him. I wavered, but he held me tight. "Dress off. It's getting in the way."
I obeyed, crossing my arms in front of me and peeling it off. He tossed it behind him, in the direction of my purse. I hoped it caught on something, but I couldn't turn enough to find out. "Bra too," he said. It was already skewed uncomfortably across my chest, and I quickly unclasped it. It was tossed the way of my dress, leaving me naked and terrified and unbelievably hot.
His big, strong hands roamed over my body, eventually cupping my breasts and squeezing. Hard. I yelped. He released them but began toying with the nipples, circling them slowly, pinching and tugging, swirling over them. I moaned, then bit it back. "You said – you said you wanted to fuck me," I said, my breath coming in shameful little pants. "Just do it already! Someone is going to come in any second, Nate."
"All in good time," he crooned. "First, I promised you punishment."
"Not here," I said, a little frantic. "You –"
"Where I say," he countered. "Hands on the wall again."
