Summer’s POV
“Shh he murmured, so low it was almost a growl, his lips barely moving. “Not a sound, June. Watch the movie.”
My heart slammed against my ribs as his fingers found the edge of my panties, hooking beneath the damp lace. I was already wet- ‘embarrassingly so—and the realization made my face burn. He peeled the fabric aside, exposing my pussy to the cool air under the
jacket, and I bit my lip hard to keep from whimpering. His fingertips grazed my slit, teasing the swollen, slippery folds, and I gripped the armrests until my knuckles ached. The theater was dark, the crowd oblivious, but the risk–the sheer audacity–made every nerve in my body scream.
He didn’t rush. His touch was maddeningly slow, stroking up and down my cunt, spreading my wetness with obscene precision. When his thumb brushed my clit, swollen and throbbing, I jolted in my seat, a choked noise catching in my throat. Brandon’s free hand rested casually on his own thigh, his posture relaxed, but his eyes flicked to me for a split second–a warning, a promise. Then his thumb pressed harder, rubbing tight, relentless circles over that pulsing bud, sending electric jolts through my core.
“Fuck” I mouthed silently, my head tipping back against the seat as my hips twitched, desperate for more yet terrified of being caught. The girls nearby giggled at something on screen, their voices a distant hum, while Brandon’s fingers dipped lower, two of them sliding inside me with a slick, filthy ease. My pussy clenched around him, sucking him in, and I felt the stretch–deep and invasive as he curled them upward, hitting that spot that made my vision blur.
He fucked me with his fingers right there, slow at first, a steady in–and–out that had my thighs trembling under the jacket. The wet sounds of my arousal were faint, masked by the movie’s dialogue, but I could feel every squelch, every drip of my own slickness coating his hand. My breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, and I clamped my lips shut, fighting the moans clawing at my throat. His thumb kept working my clit, grinding against it with ruthless pressure, while his fingers thrust deeper, faster, stretching my tight little hole until I was a mess of heat and need.
“Brandon–please” I whispered, barely audible, my voice breaking as I turned my head toward him. My eyes pleaded–for him to stop, to keep going, I didn’t even know anymore. But he didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead, his expression calm, almost bored, while his hand ravaged me under the cover of darkness. A second finger joined the other one, stuffing me full, and I nearly cried out, my body arching off the seat as my pussy stretched around him dripping and quivering.
The pressure built, a molten coil tightening in my gut. I couldn’t stop it–didn’t want to. His thumb flicked my clit one last time, hard and fast, and I shattered. My orgasm ripped through me, silent but brutal, my cunt pulsing around his fingers in frantic, greedy spasms. Hot waves of pleasure crashed over me, soaking his hand as came, my juices dripping down my thighs, pooling beneath me on the seat. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted copper, my body shaking uncontrollably as I fought to stay quiet, to stay still, while he kept pumping, dragging out every shudder, every twitch, until I was a limp, panting wreck.
Finally, he slowed, his fingers slipping out of me with a wet, obscene sound that made me flush with shame and lust. He wiped them on the edge of his jacket, casual as if he’d just spilled soda, then leaned in close, his breath scorching my ear. “You came so hard for me, didn’t you?” He whispered, the words dripping with dark satisfaction.
I couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. My body was heavy, spent, the aftershocks still tingling through me as my eyelids drooped. The movie droned on–some tearful confession I couldn’t follow–and exhaustion pulled me under. My head nodded forward, the popcorn contain slipping from my slack fingers. Before it hit the floor, Brandon’s arm darted out, catching it and steadying me with the same effortless grace.
“Is the movie over?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep, my mind foggy from the intensity of what he’d done.
Brandon’s lips twitched into a faint, smug smile as he brushed my hair back, his touch deceptively gentle. “Tired? Go ahead and sleep.
ile shifted, offering his shoulder as a pillow. Through my daze, I heard the girls nearby whispering again, their voices awed.
That guy is so hot! And look how sweet he is with his girlfriend!”
1/2
Chapter 165
Brandon shushed them with a subtle gesture, then held out my untouched popcorn. “She’s not eating it. Would you like it?”
The next thing knew, I was weightless, cradled in his arms as he carried me through the thinning theater crowd toward the exit. My eyes fluttered open, mortified to realize I’d passed out after everything–his fingers, my climax, the sheer recklessness of it all.
Is the movie over?” I croaked, my cheeks burning as I registered the stares around us.
“Almost he said, his tone even, unshaken. “Feeling better?”
I nodded weakly, the lingering ache between my legs a filthy reminder of what had happened. “You can put me down. I can walk.”
Brandon set me on my feet, but instead of stepping back, he crouched in front of me, his broad back turned. “June, climb on.”
I blinked, stunned, certain I’d misheard. We were in the theater corridor now, people streaming past, their curious eyes lingering on
- us.
“What? No!” I hissed, embarrassment flooding me anew. “I’m fine! I can walk!”
Brandon didn’t move. “June” he said firmly, “get on. You can sleep a little longer.”
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