For @the-ss-horniest-book-club HBC Kinktober 2020 - Day Twenty Five - Thigh Riding AND @happygowriting Let's Get Kinky - Day 25 - Public Sex/Exhibition
The boy I love to hate(fuck) - 18+ with Frank - language, obviously thigh riding and public sex, banter and insults. A little angsty. This is another in my continuing series of Frank encounters.
Again.
It's always like this.
But tonight you're feeling softer, a little vulnerable. Your usual insults don't have the same bite, your eyes don't have the same sparkle.
He notices. Of course he does.
Frank's in a corner of the yard, sitting and smoking, watching the rest of the party. The noise is a low hum and the string lights illuminate enough for him to not be in total darkness but it's still pretty secluded when he grabs your arm as you walk by.
"What do you want?" You snap. You're actually on your way out, having already said goodbye to your friends.
"What's with you tonight?"
His voice is too soft for your liking. "Not like it matters, because we're not friends, but I broke up with someone today."
Frank's brow furrows. You know what he's thinking. You hate that you know. "And no, you fucking dickhead, I wasn't seeing him for long and I wasn't seeing him the last time we fucked. I'm not like that."
He still hasn't let go of your arm. His fingers drift down to brush against yours. "Not like what?" You can see his eyes glittering as he looks up at you. "Not like me?"
You don't answer. A million replies lodge in your throat, but your heart just isn't in it. You open your mouth once to speak and then close it again.
You still haven't pulled your fingers away from his.
Frank crushes the cigarette beneath his boot. He looks at you for a moment, and then pulls you onto his lap.
You don't fight it. You're tired - of fighting, of trying, of failing. There's something in you that he always knows, recognizes, and yes you hate it but tonight you're almost - grateful? Almost?
Your back is against his chest, and you're facing the party. Someone could see but no one will. You move so his thigh is between your legs.
"You need something?" His voice is still too soft. You start rolling your hips, grinding against his thigh.
"I need to feel good."
"I can do that."
"I know."
You're using him, and he wants to be used and this is too gentle. You're supposed to be telling him to go fuck himself as he slams you into a wall, or saying that you hate each other as he bends you over the bathroom sink. But instead you're in the not quite dark enough where someone could glance over and see you rubbing your pussy on Frank's thigh and he's touching you so softly, his hands moving under your skirt and gripping you to move you. Your hips circle over him, because suddenly this isn't all you want - you want him to fuck you right here. Maybe you want to be seen.
Frank groans, a rumble in his chest against your back and you whine. Ordinarily he'd make a comment, winding you up about how he makes you feel good, but he's silent now. No words as he moves you forward a little so he can unbutton his pants and push them down as you lift up off his lap just enough. You feel him hard against the curve of your ass and you gasp when you feel his fingers hook into your panties and pull them aside.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he finally speaks, "you're so wet."
"What are you gonna do about it?" It's slightly mocking but nothing like usual. You feel him chuckle a little, and then you're both moaning quietly as he pushes into you.
You're watching the lights. The party noise continues, a distant reminder of the eyes that haven't noticed you two. One of Frank's hands finds a way into your bra, and the other settles between your legs, playing with your clit as you ride him. It's slow and steady - out of the ordinary. Later they'll be time to dissect this and try to figure out just what the fuck you were thinking but right now you just want - you NEED - him. How the hell did you wind up needing him?
"Baby," he's never called you that before, "I'm gonna...."
"I know," you cut him off, because you do. "Me too."
He smothers his noise in the back of your neck, his face in your hair. You bite it back, closing your eyes. He's still holding you, one hand grips your thigh and the other is still lazily stroking your breast, and you don't want to move yet. A loud shout breaks the reverie - you startle and open your eyes, but it's just someone winning a game. Frank's already pulling his hands back.
"I'm getting up," you warn him. He slips out of you as you stand, and you still face away as you straighten your dress, pull your underwear into place, blocking him as he does that same. When you turn to face him, he's pulling another cigarette out of the pack. You laugh, a short huff. "I guess it was good for you?"
He smirks up at you, but stays quiet, searching for his lighter in the pocket of his jacket. Before he can put the cigarette between his lips you surprise him and yourself by leaning down and kissing him, softly. His eyes are unreadable as you stand up straight.
"This means nothing."
He lights the cigarette and blows out a cloud of smoke. "Sure."
It could be an agreement, or sarcasm. You're too tired to get into it. You keep walking toward the gate, to go home and wash him off your body but he's never really gone and that's the rub... isn't it?
