Risky Closet Quickie
I shoved Kael backward into the supply closet, one hand fisted in his collar, the other already yanking the bar towel from behind my back to knot it tight over his eyes before he could get a word out. The door clicked shut on a space barely wider than a broom cupboard, shelves of bar mixers digging into my spine, and on the other side of that thin panel of wood I heard Alexis’s laugh, bright and unbothered, telling Jerry the tequila order was short two bottles. She was close. Close enough that I could hear the wet clink of her ring against a glass.
My hands were already moving, shoving my jeans down over my hips along with my underwear, working them down to pool at my ankles so I’d have room to spread for him in a space this narrow. Kael dropped to his knees like he’d been waiting all night for permission, and the first drag of his tongue through my folds punched the air clean out of my lungs. I slapped both hands over my own mouth. Blind, he found me anyway, nose pressed into the trimmed heat of me, tongue working in slow, deliberate circles that made my thighs shake against the sides of his head. I couldn’t see him. That was the whole point and it made everything worse, better, sharper — every lick landed like it came out of nowhere, his hands sliding up the backs of my thighs to hold me open, fingers digging into muscle that was already trembling.
My hand shot out and gripped the metal shelf above me, glass bottles clinking dangerously as my hips rolled forward into his mouth without my permission. He groaned into me, low and satisfied, the vibration of it curling straight up through my belly, and I bit down on my own knuckle to keep from making a sound loud enough to carry through drywall. Outside, Alexis’s voice paused — just a beat, just a half-second of silence — and my whole body went rigid, listening, terrified, still grinding shamelessly against Kael’s face the entire time because I physically could not stop.
She kept talking. I kept breathing again. Kael’s tongue found my clit and flattened against it, and my knees buckled enough that I had to grab a fistful of his hair just to stay upright, blind heat rocketing through me in a way that made the dark behind the blindfold feel like it was pulsing in time with his mouth. He ate like a man with nothing to lose, sloppy and relentless, and every slick, obscene sound of his tongue against wet skin felt deafening in a space this small, felt like it had to be leaking straight through the door.
I was close. I could feel it building low and mean, that tight coiling pressure, and I hated it, wanted it, needed him to stop before I made a noise I couldn’t take back. My hands found the blindfold and shoved it up off his eyes just as my legs gave out entirely, and I half-fell, half-scrambled down into his lap where he’d braced himself back against a low stack of crates, his mouth glistening, his eyes blown black in the dim light leaking under the door. I stepped one foot back into the leg of my jeans, found my footing, and hauled the denim and my underwear back up over my hips in one fast, graceless yank — no time to think about it, just needed the fabric settled before I climbed him.
I didn’t think past that. I climbed him, knees hitting either side of his hips, denim scraping denim as I wrapped my thighs around him and crossed my ankles tight at the small of his back, locking myself against him with no space left between us, the seam of my jeans grinding directly against the ridge of his cock straining behind his own. The heat of him bled through both layers of fabric, obscene and thick, and I rolled my hips down just to feel it, the friction rough enough to make me gasp into his shoulder.
“Off,” I breathed, fingers already tearing at his belt, and he lifted his hips enough that I could shove his jeans and boxers down past his thighs, low enough to clear his knees, his cock hot and heavy and slapping up against my bare stomach. I shoved my own jeans back down just far enough to free one hip, dragged my underwear aside with two fingers, notched the head of him right against my entrance, and sank down in one slow, shaking drop that punched a silent scream up my throat.
He filled me completely, stretching me around him in that first brutal inch, and I had to bite down on my own lip hard enough to taste copper just to keep from crying out. Alexis’s voice drifted through the door again, closer now, close enough that I could hear her fingers drum against the frame like she was leaning on it. “Kael,” I whispered, barely sound at all, forehead dropping to his, “oh god, fuck, you’re so deep, don’t move, don’t you dare move yet—”
He moved anyway. A short, testing roll of his hips that dragged him almost out and then buried him back in to the hilt, and my whole body clenched around him involuntary and violent. “You feel that?” he murmured against my throat, voice wrecked and low, barely more than breath. “You’re soaked. You’re dripping all over me already and I’ve barely started.”
“Shut up,” I gasped, “shut up, she’s right there—” but I was grinding down onto him even as I said it, ankles locked tight behind his back, the confined geometry of the closet only letting us move in these tight, desperate circles that ground my clit against his pelvis with every roll. My slick ran down over his shaft, down over his balls, pooling obscene and hot where our bodies met, and every rock of my hips made a wet, filthy sound that felt ten times louder than it actually was.
“Harder,” I begged, forehead pressed to his, hips working faster now, losing rhythm, losing control, “Kael, please, harder, I need — I need you to actually fuck me, not this, I can’t, I need it deeper—” My voice cracked apart mid-sentence into something barely words at all, just breath and need, and his hands clamped down on my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me still for one agonizing second.
“You want deeper,” he growled against my ear, “you’re gonna have to let me stand up. And you’re gonna have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded frantically, unable to actually answer, and released my grip on his belt loops to lock both arms around his neck instead, giving him the room to move. His jeans sagged loose around his thighs, low enough that his stance was clear, and he planted both feet and stood in one rough, powerful movement, my ankles staying crossed and locked behind him as my back slammed against the wall hard enough to rattle the shelf beside my head. A bottle tipped, rolled, and I shot one hand out blind to catch it before it hit the floor, my other arm still locked around his neck, and Alexis’s voice — right there, right on the other side of that thin wood — said something to Jerry about closing early.
I didn’t hear what. I couldn’t. Because Kael used the wall and gravity together, driving up into me with short, brutal, controlled thrusts that hit somewhere new and deep every single time, my back scraping against the shelf, my thighs shaking from the strain of holding the lock, ankles crossed and utterly at his mercy.
“That’s it,” he breathed, ragged, hips snapping up into me again, “that’s it, take it, you’re clenching so hard around me, fuck, you’re gonna make me—”
“Don’t stop,” I begged, voice nothing but air now, lips against his ear so no sound could escape into the room beyond us, “please don’t stop, I’m so close, I’m right there, just — just let me, please let me come, Kael, please—”
“Come on then,” he rasped back, thrusting harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin barely swallowed by the thin gap under the door, “come for me, right now, I’ve got you, nobody’s gonna hear you, just let go—”
That was all it took. My whole body seized around him, and I lunged forward and sank my teeth into the meat of his shoulder to keep from screaming, jaw clenching so hard my own eyes watered, throat straining against the sound trying to claw its way out of me. The climax tore through me silent and violent, a full-body lock, spasming and flooding around his cock in wave after wave, muffled whimpers vibrating straight into his skin where my teeth were still buried.
He cursed under his breath, hips stuttering out of rhythm, and slammed up into me one final, desperate time before his own release hit, hot and thick, flooding trapped between us with nowhere to go, his whole body shuddering against mine as he groaned low into my hair, biting back his own noise the same way I had.
For a second neither of us moved, both of us frozen, listening — and then Alexis’s voice again, right at the door handle, saying she thought she heard something back here. My heart slammed into my throat. I was already unlocking my ankles, dropping to the floor on shaking knees, tucking my underwear back into place and yanking my shirt down while Kael tucked himself back into his boxers with a hiss and dragged his jeans up, both of us a mess of wrecked hair and swollen mouths and absolutely no time to enjoy it.
“Inventory,” I blurted the second the door cracked open, breathless, praying my voice sounded like counting bottles and not what we’d just done against that wall, and Alexis just raised an eyebrow at the two of us crammed in there, clearly unconvinced, clearly done asking questions she didn’t want answered.