Chapter 7: Bathroom Quickie – First Real Fuck

The instant I reach the top of the stairs after slipping out of the spare bedroom my legs feel like they belong to someone else, still trembling from the way Alex just wrecked me over that bed. A thin streak of his release is already cooling along my inner thigh, seeping under the hastily yanked-up micro skirt and making every careful step slick and sticky against my skin. The party noise slams back into me full force—bass rumbling low through the floor, guys shouting over poker hands downstairs, Jake’s familiar laugh slicing through it all like a reminder that I’m supposed to be the innocent surprise who just danced for fun. My heart is still racing from the spare room, mask still tied tight across my face, crop top clinging to the faint damp patches on my chest where his hands had been.

I glance down the hallway and there he is, right behind me, eyes dark and locked on like he can’t wait another second. His cock is still half-hard in his jeans, the outline clear enough to make my breath hitch. He doesn’t say a word. Just nods toward the master bathroom at the end of the hall—the one with the big vanity mirror and those thin walls that share a vent straight down to the living room. My stomach flips hard, a nervous twist that should make me turn around, but instead my pussy clenches tight, already aching for more. I know I’m not saying no. Not tonight.

I walk ahead of him, bare feet silent now that the heels are kicked off somewhere behind us, but the plan in my head keeps the rhythm steady. His gaze burns into my ass the whole way, heavy and unrelenting. The bathroom door sits ajar; I push it open and step inside, pulse pounding so loud I’m convinced the guys below can hear it through the floorboards. Alex follows close, reaches past me to click the door shut behind us. He doesn’t lock it. Just leaves it that way, the faint hallway light still leaking in underneath like an open secret.

The room is small and tiled, cool under my soles, with a big vanity mirror reflecting us under the dim overhead bulb. There I am—mask still on, tits flushed and nipples tight against the cropped fabric, thong visibly dark and clinging. He towers behind me, jaw set tight with that same hunger from the kitchen earlier. He steps up close without hesitation, pressing me forward until my hips meet the sink edge. His hard cock nestles right into the cleft of my ass through his jeans and my skirt, thick and insistent, the denim rough against my bare skin where the fabric has ridden up.