Chapter 5: Smoking Area Secrets
The trendy bar throbbed with a different energy than the rave or the brunch spot. It was all low lights and exposed brick, the air smelling of old beer, new perfume, and the faint, sweet burn of cannabis from a vape pen passed in a shadowy booth. Demi’s tight black dress was a statement she felt in every fiber—the way the fabric stretched over her hips, the deep neckline that promised curves, the hem that rode high on her thighs. She was the life of the party again, laughing too loud at Marcus’s jokes, swinging onto a stool at the high-top table with a practiced ease.
But her eyes kept finding Josh. He leaned against the wall, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips, watching her.His easygoing smile was in place, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those were dark, focused, tracing the line of her spine as she turned to order a shot of tequila from Lizzie.
“To spiritual resonance,” Lizzie declared, clinking her glass against Demi’s.They threw the shots back, the liquor burning a hot trail down Demi’s throat. It did nothing to douse the deeper, more persistent fire smoldering low in her belly.
“You two are being weirdly chill,” Marcus observed, sipping his whiskey. “It’s suspicious.Did you finally… you know.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Josh pushed off the wall, coming to stand beside Demi. His knuckles brushed the small of her back, a ghost touch that made her shiver. “Finally what?” he asked, his voice deceptively light.“Sort your shit out,” Marcus finished, grinning.
“Our shit is meticulously sorted,” Demi said, her voice a little too bright. She could feel the phantom pressure of Josh’s fingers inside her from hours before, the memory of his tongue cleaning them. Her skin felt too tight for her body.
Josh’s hand settled fully on her back, warm and possessive through the thin dress. “I’m gonna step out for a smoke.”
He didn’t look at her as he said it.He didn’t need to. The statement hung in the air between them, an unspoken thread pulling taut. He slid through the crowd towards a battered metal door marked ‘EXIT’.The conversation swirled on. Lizzie was now debating the merits of various nacho toppings with Marcus.A minute ticked by.Another. Demi felt the pull in her sternum, a physical yearning that overrode every ounce of sense. “Be right back,” she muttered, not waiting for a reply.
The cold night air hit her like a slap, a welcome shock after the bar’s humid close. A narrow concrete patio, lit only by the sickly glow of a buzzing neon sign and the cherry-red embers of a few cigarettes, stretched before her.It was mostly empty. Josh sat alone on a cracked bench shoved into a half-hidden alcove, one knee bouncing. He watched her approach, the ember of his own cigarette flaring as he inhaled.
She stopped in front of him, her heels silent on the damp concrete. The city’s distant rumble was the only sound.He said nothing, just reached out, his hands firm on her hips, and pulled. She went willingly, straddling his lap, her back to his chest. The rough brick wall was inches from her face.His cigarette dropped, extinguished with a soft hiss in a puddle.
His arms wrapped around her, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw, his thumb pressing against her lips.“Open,” he commanded, his voice rough. She did, and he slid his thumb into her mouth.She sucked on it instinctively, the salt and smoke taste of his skin flooding her senses. He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her back.
With his other hand, he gathered the hem of her dress, hiking it up slowly, revealing her thighs, the lace top of her stockings, the black thong she’d worn again—a silent, hopeful signal. He palmed her ass through the flimsy lace, his grip almost painful. “Fucking soaked already,” he muttered against her ear, his fingers finding the damp center of her thong. He rubbed her through the fabric, a rough, dizzying friction that made her hips jerk.
He didn’t bother removing her underwear. He just hooked a finger in the lace side and pulled it aside, the material digging into her skin. She heard the rasp of his zipper, the shift of denim. Then the blunt, hot pressure of his cock, naked and eager, pressed against her exposed flesh. He guided himself, not to her entrance, but along her slick seam, coating himself in her wetness, teasing them both.“Josh,” she breathed, a plea and a protest.
He clamped his hand over her mouth, his palm sealing her lips. “Quiet.” The command was absolute.With his other hand positioning his length, he pushed. The head of his cock breached her, a slow, stretching invasion that made her eyes roll back. He kept going, an inexorable slide, filling her up so completely she couldn’t breathe around his hand. He was deeper this way, seated so perfectly inside her she felt impaled. He bottomed out with a grunt, his hips flush against her ass.For a moment, they were still.Connected. Breathing in ragged sync through their noses.The neon haze painted their tangled forms in pulsing pink and blue.Then he moved. He pulled back almost all the way, then drove back in, a long, languid stroke that drew a muffled whine from behind his hand.He set a brutal, deliberate pace. Each thrust was a deep, wet claim. The concrete bench was unforgiving, the angle perfect for him to hit a spot inside her that sent shocks of pure white pleasure through her nerves. His hand over her mouth muffled her broken moans into vague, animalistic hums. His other hand left her hip and gripped her chin, holding her head steady, forcing her to take it, to feel every inch.“This is what you wanted,” he rasped into her ear, his breath hot. “Following me out here.In that fucking dress.You wanted me to fuck you like this. Like a dirty secret.” His words were arrows, each one hitting its mark, fueling the shameful, glorious fire consuming her. “You came at brunch with my fingers in your cunt, and now you’re gonna come again with my cock in you, aren’t you?”
She couldn’t nod.She could only press back against him, her body answering yes. The pace increased, losing its languid control. He fucked her harder, faster, the slap of skin on skin lost in the city’s ambient noise.His grip on her face tightened. The coil within her, wound tight since the moment he walked out of the bar, snapped.
Her orgasm ripped through her silently, a violent, convulsing wave that clenched around him, milking his length with frantic, internal pulses.She saw sparks behind her eyelids, her body rigid in his grasp.
It triggered his own release. With a choked, guttural sound, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips jerking erratically. She felt the hot, sudden flood of his cum filling her, a claiming so primitive it left her dizzy. He held himself there, throbbing inside her, until the last tremor subsided.Slowly, his hand fell from her mouth. Both his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as their breathing slowed. He nuzzled into the side of her neck, a surprisingly tender contrast to the violence of their joining. She could feel his heart hammering against her back.After a long minute, he helped her stand, her legs trembling. He gently tugged her thong back into place, smoothed her dress down. He tucked himself away, zipped his jeans. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and took a long drag, his eyes never leaving her.
He exhaled a plume of smoke that curled around her head like a benediction. He reached out and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek.The gesture was unbearably intimate.
“Let’s go back in,” he said, his voice quiet now, stripped of its earlier raw command.
She nodded, unable to speak. He took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers, a simple, deliberate act more shocking than anything that had just happened. He didn’t let go as he pushed the heavy metal door open, leading her back into the noise and the light.
Marcus and Lizzie were right where they’d left them. Marcus’s eyes dropped to their joined hands, then flicked up to Josh’s face.A slow, wide grin spread across his features. He said nothing, just raised his glass in a silent toast.
Josh slid back into his spot against the wall, pulling Demi to stand in front of him, his arms circling her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. He held her like that, openly, as if they’d always been this way. The secret was no longer under the table, or in a smoky alcove. It was here, in the open, for anyone to see.And Demi, for the first time all night, felt utterly still. The frantic energy was gone, replaced by a deep, satiated calm. She leaned back into his solid warmth, into the scent of sex and smoke and Josh that clung to him, and knew with a terrifying clarity that nothing would ever be the same again.He had marked her, inside and out. And she had let him.
Across the table, Lizzie caught her eye and smiled—a real, knowing smile, devoid of her usual sharp wit.It was a smile of quiet recognition. The game was over. The real thing had begun.