Free Web NovelChapter 233: Cumming At The Mall 2
The curtain had barely closed behind him.
Liam had followed her in before the fabric had fully settled, pulling it shut behind him, the small space of the fitting room closing around both of them. The mirror on the back wall reflected everything. The little bench along the side. Clara in her white swimsuit, her blonde hair loose, her blue eyes going wide the moment she realized he had come in after her.
"Liam—" She turned to face him, her voice dropping immediately to a whisper. "What are you doing."
He didn’t answer.
He stepped toward her and put his hands on her waist and lowered his mouth to her neck.
"Liam." Her voice cracked on the word. "What if we get caught—"
’Seeing you in that swimsuit,’ he thought, his lips moving along the line of her neck, his hands sliding around to her ass and spreading across the full curve of it, ’there was no way I was staying on that bench.’
He squeezed.
"Mm—" The sound came out before she could stop it and her hand flew up to her mouth immediately, pressing flat against her lips. Her eyes went to the curtain. Then back to him. Then closed as he found a spot on her neck that made her whole body shift.
He kept going.
His hands worked her ass slowly, feeling the weight of it through the thin swimsuit fabric, his lips moving from her neck to just below her ear and back down. She was doing everything she could to stay quiet, her hand pressed against her mouth, her breathing coming in controlled pulls through her nose, her free hand finding his shoulder and gripping it.
He could feel her trying. The tension of it running through her whole body, the effort of managing herself while he was systematically making that impossible.
He watched her while he worked.
The way her eyes kept going to the curtain and then closing again. The way her hand pressed harder against her mouth every time something landed. The way her whole body was betraying the composed exterior she was trying to hold.
He moved his hand from her ass to the front of the swimsuit.
He pressed his fingers against the fabric between her legs.
"Oh—" The sound came through her hand, muffled but present. Her eyes went wide. She looked down at his hand and then at his face with an expression that had lost any remaining composure.
He pulled the fabric to the side.
She was already wet. Noticeably. The fabric coming away damp, her body having made its own decision well before this moment.
She looked at his hand.
Then at him.
"That’s not—" She stopped. Started again. Her voice was very small. "I did that. That’s from before. That’s your fault."
Liam looked at her. "I haven’t touched you yet."
"I know," she said. "That’s why it’s your fault."
He looked at her for a second. Then he looked up.
Three hearts above her head. Full and glowing.
He smiled.
"Okay," he said. "In that case let me finish what I already started."
She opened her mouth to say something.
He pushed two fingers inside her.
"Mm—" The sound came out loud, louder than anything before it, and her hand slammed against her mouth so fast she nearly hit herself, her eyes going wide and then closing, her whole body tensing around his fingers.
He looked at her.
’So that’s how this is going to go,’ he thought. ’She’s going to try to stay quiet and I’m going to see exactly how long that lasts.’
He started moving his fingers slowly.
Long deliberate strokes, his thumb finding her clit on each pass, feeling her respond to every specific thing he did. Her hand was pressed so hard against her mouth her knuckles were pale. Her free hand had moved from his shoulder to the wall beside the mirror, pressing flat against it, steadying herself.
He curled his fingers slightly on the next stroke.
"Mmph—" Through her hand. Muffled but clear.
He kept going.
He worked slowly, methodically, reading every reaction she gave him and returning to the things that produced the clearest ones. Her thighs were shaking already, the swimsuit fabric stretched between her legs where he had moved it aside, her whole lower body trembling slightly with the effort of staying still.
"Mmph— mm— mmmph—"
Her sounds were continuous now, each one swallowed behind her palm, her eyes squeezed shut, her head pressing back against the mirror wall behind her. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
He added a third finger.
Her whole body lurched forward. Her hand pressed harder. Her free hand slapped against the mirror.
He kept the pace steady.
In and out. Curl. Thumb. Back again.
"Mmph— mmph— Liam—" His name coming through her fingers, barely recognizable.
He watched her. The swimsuit stretched across her boobs, the fabric straining with every heaving breath she took, her nipples visibly hard through the white material. Her blonde hair was starting to come loose around her face. Her cheeks were completely red.
She was losing the quiet battle comprehensively.
He pulled his fingers back.
She opened her eyes and looked at him with an expression that was desperate in multiple directions at once.
He positioned himself.
He lifted one of her legs at the knee, raising it to his hip, and pushed in slowly.
"Oh—" The sound that came out of her was different from the fingering sounds. Lower. More immediate. Her hand came back up to her mouth but slower this time, like her brain had been slightly delayed in sending the instruction.
He started moving.
Slow at first, his hands on her hip and the back of her raised thigh, holding her open to the angle, each stroke deliberate and full. Her boobs moved with every thrust, the swimsuit fabric pushing them together and then releasing, the weight of them shifting continuously, her nipples dragging against his chest through the thin white material on the deeper strokes when she pressed into him.
"Mmph— ah— mmph—"
He picked up the pace.
Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.
Her sounds climbed with it, her hand working harder to contain them, the fitting room filling with the sound of them anyway, the thin curtain doing very little that was meaningful.
He drove forward harder.
Her free hand hit the mirror again, the sound of it sharp and small, and she looked at him over her own hand with eyes that were completely gone, dark and unfocused, her composure entirely elsewhere.
He kept going.
Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.
"Mmph— oh god— mmph—"
Then he turned her.
Not roughly, just a clear direction with his hands, and she went with it, turning to face the mirror, her hands finding the wall on either side of it, her back to him now, her ass right there, the swimsuit riding up from everything that had been happening.
He pushed back in from behind.
"Oh—" Louder than she intended. She pressed her forehead against the mirror and both palms flat against the wall and her blonde hair fell forward around her face.
He grabbed her hips.
And started moving properly.
Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.
Her ass rippled with every impact, the swimsuit fabric doing nothing to contain the motion, the full soft weight of it spreading against his hips on each stroke. Her boobs swayed beneath her, pushing against the swimsuit from inside, the neckline straining with the movement.
"Mmph— ah— Liam— mmph—"
She was trying. He could see her trying in the mirror, her face pressed forward, her eyes closed, her lips pressed together behind her hand. Each sound that came through was a failure of the attempt and she kept attempting anyway.
"I thought you were staying quiet," he said.
"I am—" The sentence broke on a thrust. "I’m trying—"
Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.
"Mmph— I’m trying—"
"Madam?"
The voice came from outside the curtain. Female. Professional. Close.
Clara’s eyes flew open.
She turned her head and looked at the curtain with an expression of pure frozen panic, her hands pressing harder against the wall, her whole body going rigid.
Liam did not stop.
"Madam, are you alright in there?"
Clara looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes enormous, whispering with everything except actual volume. "Stop. Someone’s outside. Stop."
He kept going.
She turned back to the curtain and took a breath. "I’m fine," she said. Her voice came out impressively composed for someone in her current situation. "I’m just trying something on."
"Okay," the voice said. A pause. "Let me know if you need a different size."
Footsteps moving away.
Clara exhaled.
Liam drove forward.
"Mm—" She bit her lip hard. Her hands pressed flat against the wall. "Liam I swear—"
Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.
"Mmph— ah— mmph—"
The footsteps came back.
Closer this time. Stopping directly outside the curtain.
"Madam." The voice had changed register. Still professional but with something underneath it now. "We don’t support that kind of activity in the fitting rooms. I would advise you to stop and come out now before I have to call security."
Clara turned her head and looked at Liam.
He looked back at her.
"Please," she whispered. The word had several layers to it.
Ta. Ta. Ta.
"Mmph—" She covered her mouth with both hands. Her forehead dropped against the mirror.
Outside the curtain the woman’s voice came again, louder this time, the professional register entirely gone.
"That’s it. I’m calling security now."
