Caged Bird

My heart pounded like a caged bird, caught between the stranger's warm palm and the cold tile wall. 

Footsteps echoed outside.

"Emilia?" The voice called again, closer now. "We gotta move. You in here?"

The masked man's eyes locked with mine, a silent command passing between us. 

Don't. Move.

I nodded, barely breathing. 

The footsteps paused just outside the door.

A grunt. "Nah, can't be. No broad's gonna hide in a john this long." Heavy footsteps retreated, followed by muffled conversation.

A pause. Eternal. My legs trembled, still wrapped around the stranger's waist.

"Maybe she slipped out already?"

"Shit. Boss ain't gonna like that."

"Let's check the east wing again."

The voices faded, leaving only the pounding of my heart and the warmth of the stranger's body against mine.

I sagged against the wall, relief flooding through me. 

The masked man's hand slipped from my mouth, trailing fire down my neck.

"That was close," I whispered, voice shaky.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Exciting, though, wasn't it?"

I wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream. Instead, I kissed him.

This kiss was different. Urgent, desperate. 

The fear had sharpened everything, made it more real. More dangerous.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck. "God, you're intoxicating," he groaned, his hips grinding against mine.

I gasped.

"Please," I begged, no longer caring how desperate I sounded. "I need you."

His hands fumbled with the clasp of my bra, and I arched my back to help him. The garment fell away, and he wasted no time, his mouth finding my breast.

I cried out, my head falling back against the wall. His tongue swirled around my nipple, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

"Shh," he whispered, lifting his head. "We don't want company, do we?"

I shook my head, biting my lip to keep quiet. 

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes, before returning his attention to my breasts.

My hands roamed his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his shirt. I tugged at the fabric, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine.

He set me down gently, allowing me to pull his shirt over his head. I drank in the sight of him, all lean muscle and tanned skin. 

A scar curved along his ribs, and I traced it with my finger, wondering at its story.

He shivered at my touch, his eyes darkening with desire. "Your turn," he growled, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties.

I lifted my hips, allowing him to slide them down my legs. The cool air hit my heated skin, and I fought the urge to cover myself.

His gaze raked over me, hungry and appreciative. 

"Beautiful," he murmured, his hands skimming up my thighs.

I reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. He batted my hands away, making quick work of it himself. His pants and boxers joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

For a moment, we stood there, drinking each other in or unsure if we should take this route.

My heart began beating so hard, I wouldn't have been surprised if he was able to hear it.

His hands reached my body, relearning every curve. 

"Wait," I gasped, pulling back. "Protection?"

He groaned, forehead resting against mine. "Right. Yes. Of course."

He set me down gently, fumbling with his wallet. I watched, heart racing, as he pulled out a small foil packet.

"Always prepared?" I teased, trying to mask my nerves with bravado.

He grinned, all roguish charm. "Boy scout motto."

I laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. It felt good to laugh, to let go of the tension, if only for a moment.

He stepped closer, cupping my face in his hands. "Last chance to back out," he murmured.

I looked into his eyes, searching for... something. Reassurance? Permission? I wasn't sure.

"You came way too late," I whispered sensually.

Then he lifted me up again, pressing me against the wall, his fingers trailed along the edge of my mask. "May I?" he whispered.

I hesitated. 

Removing the mask meant removing the fantasy, facing the reality of what I was doing. But as I looked into his eyes, I realized I wanted him to see me – really see me.

I nodded.

Slowly, reverently, he removed my mask. His eyes roamed my face, drinking in every detail. The intensity of his gaze made me feel more exposed than my state of undress ever could.

"God! You're perfect," he murmured, before capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He entered me in one swift motion, filling me completely. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He started moving, slow at first, but quickly building up speed. His thrusts became harder, faster. I could feel myself building towards something, something intense and powerful.

It was frantic, desperate.

I bit his shoulder to muffle my cries, tasting the salt of his skin. His grip on my hips tightened, sure to leave bruises. I didn't care.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes," I breathed. "God, yes."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, gasping at each thrust. 

"Look at me," he commanded.

I met his gaze, drowning in the intensity I found there. Even with the mask, I could see the hunger, the raw need that matched my own.

The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter, until I thought I might shatter from the intensity of it all.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

I whimpered in response, beyond words.

"Let go," he urged, his voice rough. "Come for me, beautiful."

And then, with a particularly deep thrust, I did. I came apart in his arms, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave.

He followed soon after, burying his face in my neck to muffle his groan of release.

For a long moment, we stayed like that, tangled together. 

Reality slowly seeped back in, bringing with it a dawning sense of... what? Shame? Regret? 

No. As I raised my head to look at him, I felt only a bone-deep satisfaction and a strange sense of power. 

I, Emilia Thatcher, perpetual wallflower, had just had mind-blowing sex with a mysterious stranger in a club restroom.

And to laugh at it more, the men's.

Take that, Mary.