Day of Dating Pt. 4

You were too deep in it to notice the sound of the door opening. Too lost in the ****, messy rhythm of Liam fucking up into you, too wrapped up in the heat and the friction and the sinful, wet claps of your bodies meeting over and over and over again—

Until—

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

You froze. Liam froze. Your heart nearly fucking stopped.

There, standing in the entrance of the theater, was some poor, unsuspecting theater employee. A guy, probably in his early twenties, in a wrinkled Cineplex polo, holding a broom like he was about to beat you both to **** with it. His face was twisted in pure disgust, his eyes wide in sheer horror.

“Oh, HELL no,” he spat. “You nasty motherfuckers. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—”

The guy pointed at you both like he was casting a goddamn curse. “Oh, y’all are fucked. I’m getting security.” He turned on his heel, storming off. “Fucking sick freaks—”

The door slammed shut.

For two agonizing seconds, there was pure silence. Then—

“Oh, fuck,” Liam whispered.

You looked at him, your pulse still racing. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—”

“We are so fucked,” he muttered. “What do we do—”

And then, like a lightbulb going off in your utterly depraved, sex-starved brain, you grabbed his arm and hissed, “Hurry up and cum.”

Liam gawked at you. “ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!”

“There is NO FUCKING WAY we stop now,” you shot back, gripping his shirt like you were ready to shake some sense into him.

“You want me to—” He motioned wildly at his crotch, then the door. “AFTER THAT?!”

“YES!”

“You are insane—”

“Liam, if we’re about to get kicked out, we at least need to make it fucking worth it.”

He stared at you, his whole body tense, like he was weighing his options—logic, sanity, common sense—

And then, like something snapped in his brain, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Next thing you knew, he grabbed you and tossed you sideways onto the couch, his hands barely holding up his pants as he bolted toward the entrance. You gawked at him.

“What the fuck are you—”

“Buying us some fucking time,” he growled, yanking the door open and disappearing into the hall.

You sat there, half-dressed, stunned. “Liam?!”

A second later, he was back, his breath ragged, a manic grin on his face as he strode toward you.

“What the fuck did you just do?” you demanded.

Liam grabbed your hips and yanked you hard onto your hands and knees, arching your back so perfectly your stomach flipped. “Put a broom through both the entrances,” he muttered darkly, shoving his pants back down and positioning himself behind you. “They’re not coming back in.”

Your breath caught. “You are so fucking crazy—”

“And you were the one who said ‘hurry up and cum,’ so shut the fuck up and take it.”

And then he was inside you again.

Hard.

Deep.

Fast.

You choked on a moan, gripping the couch cushions for dear life as Liam ruthlessly fucked you from behind, his grip tight on your waist, his thrusts pounding into you like he had something to prove. Like the impending threat of security catching you wasn’t a problem. Like this was his final mission.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your back arching, your thighs trembling as he slammed into you again and again. “Liam, this is so fucking crazy—”

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brushed your ear. “Crazy?” he panted. “Or fucking genius?”

And the worst part?

You had no fucking idea anymore.

And Liam wasn’t holding back. Not even a little bit.

Every slam of his hips into yours sent shockwaves through your entire body, your hands barely holding you up as you moaned uncontrollably. Your thighs were trembling, your arms weak, your face pressed into the couch cushion as he wrecked you. There was no rhythm anymore—just pure, brutal, **** fucking, his cock driving so deep inside you that you swore you could see stars.

The lewd, wet claps of skin on skin filled the empty theater, mixing with the still-too-loud movie and your absolute shameless moaning. Liam was pounding into you like a man possessed, his grip vice-tight on your ass, kneading, spreading, owning every inch of you. The **** of each thrust sent ripples through your soft flesh, the jiggling obscene, your body fully and completely at his mercy.

Fucking used.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whined, fingers digging into the loveseat. “Liam—Liam—”

He groaned, slamming into you even harder, his hand smacking down on your ass so roughly you nearly collapsed. “You can’t even talk properly,” he panted, voice husky and wrecked. “You wanted this, right? You said no way we stop now, so fucking take it.”

Your mouth dropped open, but no words came out—just another long, helpless, ruined moan as he fucked you so good it felt cruel. Your pussy was squeezing him like a vice, your legs barely supporting you as your body shook from the sheer **** of it.

And then—

With a deep, guttural groan, Liam’s grip tightened on your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as his hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself deep inside you.

His cock throbbed, pulsed—

And then he came.

Hard.

A warm, wet heat filled you as he emptied himself inside you, his cock twitching, his body jerking against yours as he spilled every last drop into your fucked-out pussy. You gasped at the sensation, the sheer filthiness of it, his thick load filling you up as his grip on you never loosened.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Both of you just breathed, your bodies still tangled, your minds still floating in the dizzying, sex-drunk haze of what just happened.

Then—

A loud BANG on the door.

“OPEN THE FUCK UP!!”

Your eyes flew open. Liam’s head snapped up.

Oh. Shit.

Everything came crashing back into reality. The security guy. The locked doors. The fact that you had just committed the absolute worst crime in Cineplex history.

We need to fucking MOVE.

Liam pulled out of you so fast you gasped, the sudden emptiness almost knocking the air from your lungs. He was already yanking his pants up, stuffing his cock away, while you scrambled for your panties, shaking as you slid them back on and fumbled with your shorts.

Another BANG shook the door.

“GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!”

Liam grabbed your wrist, his grip still firm, his breath still heavy. “I have a plan.”

Your head snapped to him. “Is it good?”

He shot you a look. “No.”

Then he pulled you toward the opposite door—the one without the angry banging.

“Wait here,” he whispered, positioning you right by the door. “When I say go, GO.”

Your heart was hammering, your body still buzzing, your legs still weak from getting absolutely fucking destroyed—but you nodded.

Liam exhaled sharply, then moved across the room, toward the door with the security pounding on it. With one quick yank, he ripped the broom out of the handle—

And then BOLTED.

The door flew open, security storming inside with flashlights—

But Liam was already sprinting back to you, his feet barely touching the floor, his voice a rushed whisper—

“GO, GO, GO—”

You threw the door open, Liam ripped the second broom away, and the two of you FUCKING RAN.

Full sprint. No looking back.

Just wild, adrenaline-fueled, heart-racing panic as you flew out of the theater, burst into the lobby, and ran straight for the exit doors—

The cold night air hit your face the moment you burst out onto the street, Liam’s grip tight on your wrist as you both ran, feet pounding against the pavement, breath coming out in frantic, exhilarated gasps. The neon glow of Yonge-Dundas Square flickered around you, the rush of the city a blur in your periphery, but none of it mattered—nothing except running. As far, as fast, as possible.

Your pulse was raging, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as the two of you weaved between pedestrians, dodging an old lady who threw you a disgusted look, nearly colliding with some guy taking a selfie, and sprinting past a group of teens who definitely knew exactly what was up based on their chorus of “YO LOOK AT THEM—”.

None of it mattered. Just run.

The muscles in your legs burned, your lungs ached, and your heart felt like it was going to explode—but neither of you slowed down, neither of you dared to look back, not until you turned a corner into a dimly lit side street, the sound of the city muffling, and finally—

You both came to a gasping, breathless halt.

“Oh my fucking god—” you gasped, leaning over, hands on your knees, chest heaving. “I can’t—breathe—”

Liam wasn’t much better. Hands braced on his thighs, panting hard, his face flushed from the run. “I think—we just committed—a crime,” he wheezed, between gasps for air.

You lifted your head, looking at him, barely able to stand as you tried to catch your breath. “Liam—we fucked in a public theater—we barricaded the exits—we ran from security—” You inhaled deeply. “Yeah, babe, we committed a crime.”

There was a pause—then Liam let out a breathless laugh.

You laughed too, weak and giddy, your chest still rising and falling as the insanity of what just happened hit you both. A full fucking movie heist, except instead of robbing a bank, you just got fucked stupid and ran for your lives.

Still breathless, Liam straightened up, shaking his head with a smug little grin. “I told you,” he panted. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, shoving at his chest.

He caught your wrist easily and yanked you in—right into his arms, right against his chest, wrapping you up in a tight, warm, breathless hug.

You melted into it, still gasping, still lightheaded, your body pressed against his as the lingering rush of adrenaline made everything feel like too much. His scent, the warmth of his body, the way his heart was pounding just as fast as yours. You exhaled into his hoodie, the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms settling deep into your bones, soothing the wild electricity still running through your limbs.

“God, we are so fucking stupid,” Liam murmured, voice a little rough.

You snorted, leaning back just enough to look up at him. “Yeah? Whose idea was it to lock the doors?”

His lips curled. “Whose idea was it to ride my dick?”

You gasped, smacking his chest—“Liam!”—but you were laughing, and he was laughing, and you couldn’t even pretend to be mad when the whole situation was so absurd.

His hands slid down your waist, holding you close. “So…” He cocked a brow. “Worth it?”

You rolled your eyes. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

He just smirked, and you groaned before burying your face back into his chest, letting out a deep sigh. His hands rubbed up and down your back, slow and soothing, and god, it was so nice.

Warm. Safe.

Like you could breathe again.

“Seriously though,” Liam murmured. “That was…” He trailed off, then let out a breathy chuckle. “That was fucking insane.”

You tilted your head up, smirking at him. “What, you didn’t like it?”

His fingers tightened on your waist, eyes darkening just slightly, and you knew—knew—he was thinking about exactly how it felt.

“Oh, I liked it,” he admitted, gaze flicking over your face. “Too fucking much, probably.”

You grinned, pushing up on your toes, catching his lips in a quick, lingering kiss. His hands slid over your back, holding you close, returning it with just enough pressure to send a tingle down your spine.

When you pulled back, you whispered against his lips, “We are never doing that again.”

His grin turned cocky. “Wanna bet?”

“Liam.”

He laughed, then kissed you again, softer this time, sweeter. “Fine. But admit it—” He pulled back just a little, eyes gleaming. “Best fucking date ever.”

You huffed, but your lips curled, and you let your forehead rest against his.

“…Yeah,” you murmured, a little breathless. “Best fucking date ever.”

Author's Note: Damn, talk about a wild and frisky date! What did you think of the dating chapters? Let me know what you thought and felt in the comments! I love hearing what you think! Thanks for reading!