Page 141 of Nash
I grip her hips and pull her down, grinding her against the base of my cock. She stops talking. Her mouth opens. Her head drops back.
"That's better," I say.
"You can't just—Oh god." I roll her hips for her, my hands controlling the motion, forcing her clit against me. "You can't just grind me into silence every time I—"
"I can." I do it again. Her words dissolve into a moan. "I will."
She braces her hands on my chest and starts riding me again. Faster this time. Less teasing, more taking. The wet sound of her pussy sliding on my cock fills the booth. Her skirt is bunched around her waist. Her breasts bounce in the dark green top. I pull the neckline down on both sides, freeing them, and grip one in each hand, rolling her nipples between my fingers while she rides.
"Fuck," she breathes. "Fuck, Nash, your hands."
"My hands what?"
"Your hands on me while I'm riding you with a plug in my ass in a public booth is making me lose my mind, and I need you to know that my mind was already in a fragile state before we got here."
Footsteps pass outside the curtain. Ruby freezes. Her pussy clenches around me. The footsteps continue past. She exhales.
"That almost—"
"Made you come? Someone walking past?"
"I am not answering that question."
"You just did."
I pull her forward by the back of her neck and kiss her. Hard. My tongue in her mouth while my hips drive up into her. She moans into the kiss, her hands gripping my shirt, pulling, and the sound of the booth creaking mixes with the muffled bass from the main room.
I need her closer. I need more of her. The control I brought into this booth is fraying at the edges, and I don't care. Breaking the kiss, I grip her waist and lift her off me. She whimpers at the loss.
"Turn around."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"Turn around. Hands on the table."
She turns in my lap, her back to my chest. I push her forward, and her hands land flat on the booth table. The skirt is still around her waist. Her ass is in front of me, the base of the plug dark against her skin. Her pussy is swollen, glistening, and dripping with my cum from round one.
"Jesus Christ." The words come out rough. Wrecked. I grip both cheeks and spread her, looking at the plug seated in her ass, at my cum leaking from her pussy. At the flushed, swollen mess of a woman who just came on my cock and is about to do it again.
I press my thumb against the plug. Push it deeper. She drops her forehead onto the table.
"Nash. Please."
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Again. Right now. While I'm bent over a table in a booth where anyone could walk in."
I line my cock up and push into her from behind. The angle is deeper than before. Her pussy is slick with her wetness and my cum; the heat of her is devastating. My hands grip her hips and I pull her back onto me, burying myself to the hilt. The groan that comes out of me is loud enough that the curtain might as well not exist.
"Fuck." I pull back and slam in. "Fuck, Ruby. You feel—" I can't finish the sentence. The plug pressing against my cock through the wall, the tightness, the wet grip of her. My hands shake on her hips.
"Tell me," she says. Breathless. Her fingers clawing at the table. "Tell me how I feel."
"Like you were made for this. Like every inch of you was built to take me." I pull the plug halfway out and push it back in, timing it with my thrusts. She screams into her forearm. "Like you're mine. Every part of you. This pussy." I thrust deep. "This ass." I twist the plug. "This mouth that never stops talking." I lean forward and press my mouth to her ear. "Mine."
"Yours," she gasps. "All of it. Fuck, all of it, Nash."
I fuck her hard. The table scrapes against the booth wall. The curtain sways with each thrust. Someone on the other side of the curtain pauses. Moves on. Ruby doesn't care. She's pushing back against me, meeting each stroke. She muffles her moans with her arm. Her body arches, and her pussy clenches every time I twist the plug.
