“This way, sweetheart, this way!” the clambering voices of the paparazzi build and crowd your ears. Flashing lights of pictures being taken leave imprints on your vision, but you smile through it. Your hands are dutifully wrapped around BLACK NOIR’s thick bicep, and you tilt your head against his shoulder as he leads you through the line of press.
“Black Noir’s girlfriend, over here! Look at me!”
“Right here, honey, right here!”
A warm palm pats against the top of your hand, and you glance up at Noir. You’ve gotten exceptionally talented at telling his signs, and he’s eyeing you from the side. A silent and familiar question that has you moistening your lips, retreating with him to the restroom as soon as you can afford to slip away.
“Couldn’t wait to get me back, huh?” you question, winded from effort as mean fingers dig into the flesh of your waist, guiding you up and down. “You know you’re supposed to be working, right? Can’t believe you needed a pussy break.” you chide. Fat cock drives into you at a harsh pace, bracing your hands on the stall dividers for support. With each of his thrusts up, a soft grunt expels through his nose, and it makes you shiver. Your fingers come to toy with his lips through his mask, the scarring embossed underneath it, sliding against your pads. “So fucking horny, baby. Is it ‘cause they called me your girlfriend?” To punctuate your point, you seat yourself, fully sheathing his every inch. “Huh? You like when they call me your little girlfriend?” He nods, only once, but it’s enough. Tenderly, your cup the nape of his neck, and use it as leverage for how you rock back and forth on his cock. His hands slide down your waist, over the folds of your hiked up dress, to grab at your ass. Gloves knead and smack at it, jiggling the flesh as you take your time in rolling your body on his cock.
“You—“ your own whimper interrupts you, his tip brushing the spongy spot inside of you from this angle. “—you think they know you’re fucking your little girlfriend in this fucking restroom?” At the mention, he claws into the globes of your ass, yanking you closer to him and consequently shoving himself impossibly deeper. A pitchy whine is drawn from you, and one of his hands comes to wedge in between you two. The tips of his fingers smooth out your lower abdomen, as if to let you know he’s right there. You can feel the tip of him right there, poking out. He didn’t have to say much for you to get the picture. Especially when he presses into it, bringing your g-spot right to his swollen head. You arch back with a gasp, stars like fireworks in your eyes as you chase that feeling. Faithfully, he keeps that pressure while you rock into it. His grip on your ass telling you: That’s right. That’s what I want from you. That’s a good little girl.
You’re supposed to be here in support of his newest movie; the premiere had been the talk of the media for weeks. And here you are in the public restroom of the theater, blowing it off so you can leave a cum stain on your boyfriend’s crotch.
