between us.
“Why not?” Her voice is full of pout.
“Because if I do, I’ll take control of this situation, and I won’t stop.” I continue to stroke, toying with her until she keens. “You might want me to fuck you now, but you won’t in the morning, and that’s not my style.”
“What.” Pant. “Is.” Pant. “Your style?”
I slip under her tank, flick my fingers over the clasp of her bra and peel the cups away. My fingers play over her puckered flesh. “Honey, if I fuck you, you’re going to want more in the morning, not to run away in mortification.”
“More.” Her hips move faster once I start rubbing her nipples, pulling and tugging. Making her throb.
I increase my pressure, watching every nuance of pleasure rush across her features in the moonlight. The cab is rocking, the bench creaking under our weight.
Any restraint I possess is seriously fraying, and my self-destructive streak starts to weave tentacles through my resolve. She needs to get off. I need to see it before we’re through.
I grit out, “Can you come like this?”
“I don’t know.” Her head shakes. “I want to so bad.”
I lift her shirt, stripping it off and tossing it on the seat next to me before covering her nipple with my mouth.
She gasps and leans back, gripping my neck, pulling me closer.
I lave her with my tongue. Her movements grow frantic and hasty, losing all rhythm as her need to orgasm becomes more urgent. I can tell she’s fighting to get there, that as good as this feels, it’s not quite enough, and she’s growing desperate.
I’m at the edge of breaking. I’m not sure how much more I can manage without just saying fuck it and taking her.
But I’m sober enough to know that would be a drastic mistake. My control hanging by a thread, I lift my head and whisper against her skin. “Let me help you.”
I unbutton her shorts, sliding down the zipper. My fingers trail over her soft, flat stomach and into her panties. I curse when I find her wet and swollen.
She throws her head back as the tips of my fingers stroke her clit. She reaches between us and grips my wrist, holding me steady, showing me exactly what she wants and needs.
I circle her wet flesh once, twice, and on the third time she cries out, working her hips as the orgasm she’s been craving rushes over her.
I watch every second of it, taking it all in, letting it surprise me.
I didn’t expect her to abandon herself to her pleasure, but she does, and it’s beautiful. Her eyes are closed, her back against the steering wheel as she writhes.
I grow greedy, wanting more. I cup her breast, rubbing my thumb over her nipple while I work my fingers, sliding them inside her tight, wet heat. I press my palm to her clit, circling while I fuck her with my fingers, my jaw hard as I turn relentless.
Her nails dig into my skin.
“That’s it. Be a good girl and come for me again.”
This seems to spur her on, and since I need something else to do with my mouth besides kiss her, I start talking, never letting up.
Thrusting and circling, I have the urge to smack her pussy, right over the clit, but I’ve caught a rhythm she seems to be lost in, and I don’t want to ruin it.
Another time. The thought slips into my mind, and I push it away. This will be the only time. It has to be.
I’m going to make it count, within reason. I can salvage the aftermath of this, I’m sure of it. I’m arrogant in my confidence that it won’t have any lasting repercussions. Just like I always am.
My voice is harsh. “Work that greedy little cunt.”
Her eyes fly open and lock on mine.
“Do it.” The command is like gravel in my throat.
Her hips press harder.
I nod. “That’s it. Fuck my fingers like your life depends on it.”
She’s practically pooling into my hand now, soaking me.
My cock aches. I’m going to need a lot of cold showers after this, but fuck, if it’s not worth it.
“Play with your tits.” My baser instincts rush over me.
She leans back and cups her breasts.
I thrust my fingers harder as she circles her nipples.
“Look at you.”
She moans, “More.”
“Such a slut for me.” I grit through the words, and just like that she’s flung over the edge, crying out as she comes on my fingers, gripping me tight, milking me.
I work my hand until