He groans, a long, ragged sound from deep in his chest. “Jesus, Annika.”
Both hands, then, gliding up together, and down again. My core tightens, heats, drips. God, he’s beautiful. I want him inside me. I want to watch him come. I want him above me. I want to ride him. I want his mouth on me. I want to get naked with him and come together until we’re both too exhausted to move.
I want him to come.
Right now.
The need for him is sudden. Immediate. Intense. It’s hitting me out of nowhere, a raging inferno of need for Chance. For his body. His touch. His pleasure. I caress his length with both hands, twisting occasionally, marveling at the sheer size of his cock. I couldn’t even guess at how many inches it is, and nor do I care. All I know, all I care about is that I get to touch it.
He groans again, and his hips lift, pushing him into my touch. “Fuck, Annika. Fuck. Been a long time. Can’t hold back much longer.”
“Don’t hold back, Chance.” I pump at his base, using my other hand to twist around the head again, twisting and plunging, twisting and plunging.
“Gonna make a mess in about thirty seconds,” he warns.
I keep my touch slow, gentle. Unhurried. Just enjoying the sight of him, the feel of him. “You’re beautiful,” I say. I squeeze oh-so-lightly around the head in gesture. “Thisis beautiful, Chance.”
His eyes open, find mine. “Annika. Fuck. Jesus, fuck.”
He’s beginning to thrust, to buck. Jaw clenched tight, he knots his hands into fists behind his head. Gasping, growling, groaning.
“Fuck. I’m—I’m gonna come, Nik.”
“Lean the seat all the way back and pull up your shirt,” I tell him.
He levers the seat to not quite horizontal and tugs his shirt up around his chest. Hands behind his head, eyes locked on me, on my hands as I caress his thick, hard length. One hand around his balls, cupping and massaging, I keep my strokes slow, tip to root, squeezing at the tip and twisting at the root. As he nears the edge, he thrusts into my hand, wanting it faster, needing it harder. Instead, I go even slower.
I want to taste him. But…perversely, I make myself wait. For now, just this.
“Annika…” he rasps, his voice ragged and raw with tensed energy. “Fuck, the way you touch me. Never felt anything so amazing as your hands on my cock, Annika.”
“You gonna come for me, Chance?” I murmur, plunging short, shallow strokes around the tip of his cock.
“Right now, oh fuck, oh fuck, Nik…fuck, I’m coming.” He arches, and then his ass lifts up off the seat, and now I give it to him hard and fast, my fist a blur around his cock.
He comes in a jet stream, laying a thick white stripe up his brown belly and onto his diaphragm. As he comes, I slow my touch again, squeezing his balls and giving him slow twisting strokes at his base. He spurts again, and his breathing is ragged, panting gasps cut through with snarling groans of blissed-out release.
“Oh my god, Annika, baby girl.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Jesus. You ruined me.”
I grin my pleasure at him. “That was fucking hot, Chance.” I can’t help it—I lean over him and fit the tip his cock into my mouth, running my tongue over the slit of his opening, tasting the tang of his leaking droplets of cum. “Next time, all mouth,” I promise him.
“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you into next week,” he shoots back.
“I love it when you threaten me with a good time,” I say, smirking. “Hold still. Let me see if there are napkins or something in this car.”
I open the console between our seats and find a stack of brown paper napkins from a fast food drive-through, and I use them to clean him up. When he’s clean, he tugs his shorts back up, drops his shirt, and levers the seat upright. Letting out a gusting sigh, he reaches over, cups my jaw, and pulls me to him, claiming my mouth in a harsh, rough, demanding kiss.
I think he meant it to be hard and quick, just a brief kiss before he gets us back on the road. I have other ideas. I clutch his neck and lean into him, give him my tongue, feel him suck it into his mouth, tangling his against mine. Ignition, then. All tongues and teeth and lips, battling and clashing. He pulls me closer yet, so I’m lying halfway across the console at an awkward, uncomfortable angle.
“I can’t get enough of your fuckin’ mouth,” he growls, breaking the kiss. “Can’t enough ofyou.”
“Same,” I whisper. I yank away from him and plop back into my seat. “Drive. Before we get carried away again. Just…drive.”
He shoves the shifter into gear and nails the accelerator a little too hard—we fishtail and the tires spit gravel and then squeal and smoke as we transition from shoulder to pavement, rocketing forward as the tires catch and the powerful engine roars, propelling us down the road. Once we reach highway speed, he lets off, raking his hand through his hair and then down through his beard.
“You know,” he says, glancing at me. “That’s the first time I’ve ever messed around in a car.”
“Been a long-ass time since I have,” I tell him.
