Black Queen White King

Chapter 1

Emily

The heavy beat is pumping in the background, and I can hear the murmur of my girlfriends’ giggling voices out in the hallway, but for all I care, they may as well be in another galaxy.

All I can focus on right now is that Ethan Reynolds, the gorgeous white boy who I’ve had a not-a-crush on for years, has his hands all over me. He’s walking behind me like the Fred Astaire to my Black Ginger Rogers, except stumbling drunk. But it couldn’t be more perfectly choreographed if we were in an old Hollywood film.

“God, I want to rip you out of that dress and fuck the shit out of you. You’re so fucking sexy. You know that?”

Sploosh.

I can feel his hard-on poking into my ass through his pants as he’s whispering into my ear, his hands moving my hair behind my ear, his hot breath and his sultry baritone just as much of an aphrodisiac as his gym-addict body.

“Do I know that? I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me more so I can think it over?”

He takes my wrists and pushes me against the wall with his pelvis once we’re finally inside the bathroom, my back arching to press closer to him on instinct. He kisses me, cramming his warm tongue through my lips, the scent of whiskey and pheromones invading my every pore.

His kiss sends electrical impulses through my whole body, as my nipples get even harder and the heat between my legs swells with the idea of not being empty. Of making room for this man, whose cock I can tell already is huge.

He moves fluidly back and forth into my crotch, which feels amazing even through all the layers of clothing. His dick pets my pussy through my tight black dress before it teases me by flowing backward, then thrilling me by coming back into striking distance.

It’s been so fucking long since I’ve had good sex, I think to myself. Even with Benjamin, we didn’t have sex in the three weeks before the breakup, so it’s been almost a month. I haven’t even had bad sex in a month.

He hoists me up onto the sink, his hands lingering on my ass where it meets the hem of my dress, which I can feel is half unzipped. His jacket falls to the floor, and even though the floor is bar-floor filthy, he just leaves it, accidentally stepping on it.

“I can afford another one,” he says, reaching around and unhooking my bra and occupying my mouth with his tongue once again. I can tell he’s a skilled practitioner at undoing such a tricky apparatus, but I try not to think about his reputation for having a different flavor each night.

I’m every flavor rolled into one, goddammit. And I’m the one tonight.

I take off the straps of my bra through my sleeves, then pull the whole thing up from the neckline. I drape it around his neck like a scarf. He moves it down slowly, stopping at his dick, then rubbing slowly outside of his pants with his hands, giving me even more of a preview of the massive erection that I hope I’m stupid enough to let inside of me.

He slides his hand up my dress, behind my underwear.

“God, you’re nice and wet for me…oh! Hmm?”

I unthinkingly hold out my hands and stop him. What the fuck are you doing, Emily? Why the hell are you stopping? Especially with the number of times you’ve made yourself cum maneuvering your vibrator furiously thinking about what that body looks like underneath those button-down shirts.

I probably look as confused as he does.

“Do you not want to do it, Emily?” He looks like he’s about to explode, and he adjusts his underwear, suddenly feeling the traffic jam of blood flow after being presented with the possibility of not going further.

This very thing we’re maybe about to do now was the whole reason I came here with my girlfriends tonight – to get over my breakup by hooking up with some hot guy and forgetting that what’s-his-name even ever existed. It didn’t matter who it was. But when I spotted Ethan across the room, I knew who I wanted to break the seal after the breakup. He's the most beautiful white boy I've ever seen.

The chance to celebrate my new freedom with a man I’ve secretly or not-so-secretly lusted after for years is literally right in front of me. I’ve had his imaginary dick buzzing away in me a million times, secretly screaming his name, and I’m having second thoughts now?

Ethan’s the perfect man for the job of my hot rebound fuck. Except for the small detail that he’s the creative director at work. And my boss.

Eh, fuck it.

I jump down off the sink with my arms out, as if to say tada, wobbling a little in my stiletto heels. I shove him into the largest stall against the wall and undo him, and his belt falls to the ground with a clatter.

Holy mother.

He’s standing at full attention in all his glory, and he’s magnificent. I shove his underwear down to join his pants and belt and caress his dick and balls with my hands, kissing him slowly. I feel dabs of precum on my fingers.

He puts on a condom like he’s a solo act on stage, and I’m enraptured. He almost rips my dress off, but I don’t care. He snakes his fingers inside my panties, and I cannot stop myself from moaning. It feels so fucking good, like a concert pianist practicing scales without thinking.

“Fuck, that feels goddamn amazing…” I pant.

In his low voice, he whispers in my ear again. “Imagine how fucking amazing this is going to feel,” he says, using his other hand to stroke the sheathed cock that’s twitching.

 I feel a rush of fluid fall, drenching his fingers.

“Mmm, you’re so wet. Think about how good that’ll feel as my dick is sloshing around in it.”

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, Ethan…” He covers my mouth and shakes his head, and we’re suddenly silent as we hear high heels clacking on the tile.

“Shit. I guess we forgot to lock it.”

My jaw drops, and my cheeks turn hot. I have a look of horror on my face, which he meets with a playful smirk.

He takes his finger out of me, and it feels alien not to have him inside anymore. That feeling immediately disappears, though. Instead, it’s replaced by the nervous thrill and overwhelming pleasure of his enormous cock plunging into me as someone stands just feet away from us, separated by a thin barrier.

It gives way to pure abandon, as the ecstasy of it overpowers me. All thoughts are reduced to one. God this feels so fucking good. Yes, keep fucking me just like that.

Before a moan can escape my mouth, his lips are on mine, overpowering any chance of conscious thought with raw sexuality as his dick thrusts up into me against the bathroom stall wall.