A Quickie in New York City #eroticromance #shortstory #wickedwednesday


The prompt for this week's Wicked Wednesday was "Boundaries." 



I hadn’t been able to touch him in so long.

I had him right there, in front of me, nonchalantly checking his phone and pretending we hardly knew each other.

I went for it. Without a word, I pulled my long shawl around me, slid between his legs and climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. I put my hand in his hair, ruffling it out of place.

Across the street, I heard a camera click.

I was going to break his rules. I didn’t care who saw me.


He didn’t like being photographed with women. He’d already given me long speeches about how it was bad for his image, how it pissed off his fan base and took away from their fantasies about how one day he might fall in love with one of them.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, you know that, baby doll,” he had told me one morning in bed. He put on a bit of a Southern accent, which always made him sound adorable. “I just don’t do red carpets. I don’t hold hands. I don’t do that shit.”

“It’s all unimportant anyway,” he said, laughing and pulling me to him. “We both know all you want is my dick. It doesn’t matter if it shows up in US Weekly.”

Now with him trapped between my legs on the steps of the Met, I was sure we were going to end up in the tabloids.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, quiet and low.

“Just shut up for a second,” I said with a grin. I threw the shawl over his head so that it completely covered us both with the exception of our legs peeking out. “No one will see us anyway.”

His eyes widened just for a second, but I could tell he was getting a kick out of this. I started to sweat from the heat of the little red tent I had created over our heads. I went to work undoing his pants.

“There are people everywhere. I hope you know what you are doing,” he whispered, slowly and deliberately pronouncing each word. His voice was muffled under the cloth.

I could feel his erection against my hands, but it was difficult to do this as quickly as I needed to execute it. I fumbled around and finally pulled down his zipper and freed him.

“I haven’t done this with my pants still on since high school.” He smirked at me as I looked up into his perfectly blue eyes.

“Shut up.”

As quickly and subtly as I possibly could, I pulled the shawl down to my waist, tightly. I positioned myself slightly above him and pushed him inside me. Immediately I felt relief – relief that we were together again as we should be, that I had him right where I wanted him and he couldn’t leave. Or ignore me. I clenched myself against him hard, pulsing against his cock.

“So what’s the plan?” he said in my ear, careful not to kiss me.

“As far as anyone here knows, I’m just sitting on your lap having a conversation,” I said.

“You know that means we can’t actually move, baby girl,” he said. I could feel his hardness growing inside me as he spoke. I was about to get lost in those eyes.

“All we can do is sit here and you can think about all the ways I’m going to make you pay for doing this to me,” he said.

It took absolutely no effort on his part to make it appear we were just sitting and talking on the concrete steps. He was a pro.

“First, I’m going to make you throw away this miniskirt because I can’t have you walking around in a miniskirt without panties on any more. That’s just ludicrous.” He said ludicrous with a flourish that was starting to annoy me.

His voice lowered and he got a little closer to my ear. I wanted nothing so bad in the world as to just move against him a few times. I could feel my need for him building inside of me and I kept clenching against him, over and over, right on the edge of a release.

“And then, after I’ve got you undressed, I’m going to bend you over and spread those legs out nice and wide. Oh, but first, I’m going to have you blow me. Nice and slow. In fact, I’m going set a timer on my phone for that blow job right now.”

He picked up his phone and started playing with it. I pleaded with him with my eyes, my breathing getting heavier, wanting him.

“Stay still,” he warned.

“Babe, stop,” I said through a sigh.

“You think this will all be worth it when you see it on TMZ?” he said. “Now get off me so we can go home and do this right.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked