Stone Cold

Chapter 7

My eyes dart around the area around us, actually pondering the idea of doing exactly that, before I sober up. Anyway, he can't be serious. People don't fuck in cinemas. Especially in cinemas crowded like this one. True, we have some privacy because we are literally in the last row and to the far side. My coat and his jacket lay on top of the dry side of his seat, forming a small wall between us and the rest of the last row. Well, it could be possible, maybe, if I was insane.

Max doesn't let go of my waist. He hugs it, but not too tightly. I close my eyes and try to even my breaths, but they are still catching in the back of my throat. I'm tingling all over. I'm horny. And knowing he is horny too, just makes it worse.

I look down at us. His strong, long legs caging mine, crossed at the ankles. My dress that rode up, leaving my knees uncovered. I notice one of my shoelaces is undone. I focus on that.

"My lace is undone," I stupidly say, swaying my foot.

"Hmm?"

"My lace. I need to tie it."

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks incredulously, probably dumbfounded by the topic.

"Cause you don't want me to move, but I'll have to."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

He turns his palms up in a conceding gesture.

"Fine."

Slowly, I put my hands on his knees and start peeling myself off of him. His hands slide off my waist to my hips. I bend down, stretching forward, and my butt rises slightly in his lap. I can feel it again, pulsating underneath his jeans. Immediately, his thumbs press into the small of my back. I imagine the view he has as I am tying this lace unhurriedly in the dark, and it makes me blush. Not from shame, though. From excitement. I push back onto him, and he grips my hips tighter. His legs open wider. I feel more of him now. He feels big.

As slowly as I was going down, I rise back up. My ass slides lower, catching on the bulge of his zipper. A low groan vibrates out of him. I swallow my moan. When I meet his chest with my back again, my head next to his, his heavy breathing tells me all I need to know.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, Nat," he says seriously, but there are cracks in his voice.

I clear my throat to disguise the nervousness I'm vibrating with now, all my senses becoming more than aware of every inch of him. Especially the ones right underneath my ass, emanating heat as a poking stick dipped in fire.

"Shh," I utter back.

In response, he opens his palms over my waist. They cover my entire lower belly, now twitching and trembling with anticipation. I pray he can't feel it, but then, he slides them over the tops of my thighs. When I don't protest, he starts gathering my dress up with his fingers. The flimsy silk moves smoothly, revealing new inches of my naked skin. The desire floods my entire body, turning me into a mindless creature that only feels his touch.

I exhale slowly, releasing the heavy breath that formed like a ball in a middle of my chest. My head drops back onto his shoulder, and he presses down on my thighs, telling me he knows. He knows I'm not going to stop him.

His palms go all the way up to the apex of my thighs, taking my dress with them. By this point, I am so aroused I have to fight the urge to whimper like a dog in heat. When he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my barely-there panties, he waits. Scared he stopped because someone saw us, I scan the cinema. But there's no one coming our way, no one looking back at us.

"Up," he finally orders. I rise high enough for him to pull them down to my knees. "Take them off."

I push them down, leaving them on the floor. He brings me back to him, hugging my waist again. I cover his hands with mine, needing to hold onto something.

"Open your legs," he rasps into my ear, making my entire body thrum.

There isn't much space, but I try, aligning my legs with his. The dress is barely covering my flesh.

"I can smell you," he rubs his nose under my ear, "You're wet, aren't you?"

I close my lips tightly, desperate to control my sounds.

"I want to know how you taste," he purrs. I ache to close my legs again, to rub my thighs together, to rub on something. Still, I stay unmoving. "Show me."

Show him? My brain scrambles, but before I can ask him how, he takes my hand and guides it down. It hits me like a freight train. He wants me to touch myself. The entirely new shade of blush paints my cheeks.

"Do it," he orders again, licking my earlobe. It's as if I can feel his tongue right there, where he wants me to go. I am so itchy now, something has to touch me, even if it's my own hand. Legs trembling, I guide my middle finger down. He gathers my dress up around my waist, and watches over my shoulder. That boldens me. I close my eyes and open my mouth, allowing a faint moan to escape, dipping my finger in.

"Give it to me," he more groans than says, biting down on my neck. I turn my head to him, wanting to see him taste me. He's licking his lower lip, eyes as dark as the night we've met. They burn into mine as he takes my slick finger into his mouth.

His warm tongue licks around it, and I watch helplessly, mesmerized. Every cell of my being wants to feel those mouth and that tongue anywhere, everywhere on me. In me. Like he can read my mind, he drags my finger slowly out and licks his lips.

"Sweet," he says, our mouths so close I can smell myself on him. I want him to kiss me so badly it hurts. We linger in that space like we're playing chicken, sensing each other's internal battle, but then, he pulls my dress down. My entire face has probably contorted itself into a question mark, because he laboriously says,

"Later. Now, watch the movie," and settles back into the seat. His eyes are clear again.