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He nods subtly, pressing a kiss to her temple, then back to her earlobe, his teeth just barely grazing them. He works his fingers against her, grinding the fabric against her, exploring the hidden contours of her with pressure alone. He watches the whole time, fixated on the sight of her soft, pale flesh around the tiny strip of fabric.

"They'll hear us," he warns. "We'll never be allowed back."

His other hand slides up to ruck the bikini right off her tits, the string taut against the fullness of her chest even as it fully fails to conceal her from his gaze.

She'd seen an ample amount of mirrors at the club, but she thinks she likes this better. Just them, in a tiny room, the large mirror before them displaying a pretty picture. How handsome he looks with his hands on her.

"They won't hear us if you keep quiet," she teases, voice low. There's a small bench, and Jill hopes it can support the weight of them both. "Sit, and I'll make sure of it."

Time to put that strength to use again once more, and feel her under him as he lifts her just enough to manoeuvre himself to the bench. He sits, settling her weight into his lap firmly, his legs splayed so he can drape hers over his, spreading them open. The bikini's narrow crotch could never hope to contain her lips; without her panties underneath, she'd hardly be hidden at all.

"A difficult task, looking at you like this," he mutters, but he can make silence work.

If she didn't have her panties in she thinks the bikini would cleave her in two. Another reason to not wear this particular set to the beach. Jill is enjoying herself however, at home on his lap and in his arms.

She looks to the mirror, and then to Clive.

"Are you enjoying the view?" Not just the bikini, but the angles the mirror offers his eyes.

"Don't you feel just how much I do?" he says, which is, of course, his cock uncomfortably crammed under the confines of his jeans and the underside of her ass, and he breathes out right by her ear, long and slow, willing himself to not grind her cruelly against himself. He runs one finger along the seam of her lips, his other hand closing around a breast to squeeze firmly.

"Is that what that is?" She laughs. Clive's arousal is difficult for the poor man to hide, though Jill often does him the favor of letting him bring it to her attention.

"Set yourself free. I want you inside me."

They don't have all day--and she thinks she should purchase a mirror for her bedroom. Their bedroom.

The groan he has to suppress very nearly prompts a curse instead, but he keeps quiet, instead shifting her to the side like a doll so he can get a hand on his fly and undo the buttons one-handed. It's a clumsy affair, going fast and balancing her weight on one of his thighs, but he doesn't give a shit: before long he's managed to free himself from the confines and his cock juts proudly free from his fly.

The mirror is as useful as it is erotic, seeing his erection bobbing between her legs as he hefts her up against his belly, yanks her panties aside with his thumb, and stuffs himself into her, hot and fast. He kisses her neck just to shut himself up, but it rapidly turns into a hard suck on her flesh.

What a sight they are, him fully clothed and her barely clothed, bikini clinging to her body while leaving her exposed to him. He moves her so easily and is inside her so quickly, so smoothly, that she has to swallow down a cry of pleasure.

She could watch their reflection and never grow bored.

"I'll carry you home with me," she whispers, and begins to rock against him. Hard, but with an attempt to stay silent. She lifts his hand from below to bring it to her mouth, kissing his palm before wrapping her lips around a finger. That will keep her mouth quiet, at least.

If there is a woman to live for, it's Jill Warrick: the moment his finger is in her mouth, he's gasping in her ear, bracing his shoulders against the side of the change room and digging in his heels so he can bounce her on his cock, passion alone letting him lift her enough to get in a good drive back down. He watches his cock bully its way between her tight, wet lips, and his knees keep her thighs spread wide for him.

"I'll get it so deep in you it'll never come out," he mutters back, dipping his free hands between her legs just to press two fingers to the hood of her clit and drag it back so he can see her.

Jill moans around his finger--too loudly, she realizes through the haze of him fucking her--and pulls another into her mouth. In the mirror, his cock looks almost too big for her, but her body accommodates him with familiar ease. They're made for one another.

Crude as it may look, Jill loves their display. And she loves it because she loves him, and the safety she has with him. Careful not to bump his chin or nose, she leans back, desperate for a kiss or nuzzle.

It's so easy to lose himself in moments like these, the kind of raw, primal sex he can call fucking. Pure id, the kind of feeling he'd chased but never had a real sense of until he'd heard stories and bandied through brothels. The thing he hadn't known the pleasure of until he'd sank himself flush in an asshole, felt the hot constriction of another's insides. Made love for the first time, to a girl he'd longed for since childhood, a girl he might have married at twelve just to get a head start on a lifetime so close they were practically one. Her wanting him is permission to want her, isn't it?

He wants her and he's hurt and when he's hurt he wants her all the more.

He knows he isn't going to last long. It's fine. Time is short. He pulls his fingers from her mouth, clutches her cheek with wet fingers and presses a bruising kiss to her mouth, moaning into it as he comes inside her. For an instant he doesn't see –– it's so much, he has to screw his eyes shut –– but it's all the easier to fuck her with his own come sliding around inside her.

"Jill," he pants, into her mouth.

A lifetime of being grabbed and taken and held simply means her trust in his hands is absolute when she allows him to do so. She sighs into him, eyes fluttering shut as he spills into her. His seed is so hot she can feel it spread into her, coating them both.

"Perfect," is all she can say, still making an effort to keep quiet. Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek--for all his flaws he's her perfect match. She could want no other. "Look how perfect you are for me."

Whenever she says that, he wants to start every morning by licking her clean. His heart pounds and he continues to pound up into her, even softening, until he slips right out and can just bob against her thigh. He still works her clit with his fingers, still lost in that animal haze. He kisses her palm.

"Whenever it so pleases you," he promises.

She wishes they could stay here all day. Every moment is a moment they risk getting caught and thoroughly embarrassed, however. He came, and she's very pleased. There will be time for her later.

"I love you, Clive."

"I love you too," he says, and he kisses her again, settling in his seat. The wall behind him creaks. He teases: "Now the red one."

"Shall you make a mess of that one, too?" Carefully, she adjusts her weight so he can give him a proper kiss. Slow and sweet, with her hand smoothing over his chest.

"You're very silly."

The words are full of fondness.

"Perhaps elsewhere," he says, ceasing playing with her clit so he can wrap his arm around her instead, holding her in his arms for a brief moment and a not-so-brief kiss. When he finally breaks off, it's with a glance at the closed door less than a foot from his face. Time to get going, he suspects, even if he'd love to linger with her in his arms.

Better not test their luck. Jill reluctantly nods, knowing it's time to go.

Now comes the less beautiful part of their lovemaking that she cares not to watch in the mirror: carefully climbing off Clive, hand cupped between her legs, hoping to spare the bikini from the worst of the flood. She's glad for the ties on the sides--one pluck of a string has her able to pull the thing off. Her panties will be sacrificed for clean up and put into her bag.

"Surely I have never looked more beautiful," she murmurs, amused as she untangles herself from the bikini top. She's in wonderful spirits.

"You're always beautiful," he says, wiping his cock off with the hem of his t-shirt and tucking himself away, and the hem of his shirt along with it. "And I liked seeing you in the mirror."

"I was thinking the bedroom could use a mirror. Don't you agree?"

Jill pulls on her skirt and slips on her blouse, though she steps closer to lean into Clive as she does so. Enjoying the last few moments of privacy.

"Upstairs or downstairs?" he muses, reaching up to fasten the buttons for her.

"Our bedroom. Upstairs."

She rests a hand on his hip as she stays still as he buttons her up, looking up at him. It should have always been their bedroom.

"I've slept better these last few nights than I have since..." Since. Since he no longer shared her bed. She's sure having Joshua in the house has something to do with it too, one less worry, but she knows she only sleeps so soundly because Clive is with her.

He doesn't meet her eyes, but he can't help but smile a little at the correction, sure that location was safer than saying yours or mine? and pleased to be wrong anyway. He fumbles a little on the buttons, but he's just pleased to linger close.

"I've slept well too," he says. "I worried my coming in late had disturbed you..."

"It's no disturbance to wake up to you crawling into bed with me," she tells him. "I fall asleep easily with you there."

In Clive's arms and with Joshua sleeping down the hall, what more could she want?

"You don't know the joy I feel when I wake up in the morning to the sight of your face."

Clive meets her eyes briefly, suddenly embarrassed –– how does he rail this woman like a sex-starved beast and then listen to her praise him like this?

He finishes her shirt and lets his hands glide from her waist to her hips, feeling the absence of the seam of her underwear under her skirt.

"I would be the luckiest man alive to be allowed to sleep with you in my arms every night."

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