my seat back a few more inches, though I could still reach the gas, the brakes. My back pressed against the warm seat, I felt his fingers trace my grooves, already damp from anticipation. I let out an involuntary sigh, wanting to close my eyes, but I had to keep them on the road.
“Now kick off that pump,” he whispered, “and bend your left knee against the door.”
I released my left foot from my shoe and raised my knee, my skirt rolling up my thigh towards my waist. He bent his head down until it was practically resting in my lap. He kissed my inner left thigh as his fingers tugged my panties aside. His head dropped lower, and I laid one hand on his damp hair. For a brief second, I felt his breath on my clit as his tongue teased it. The rain, which had been pelting sideways on the blackened road, had subsided. My whole body throbbed as the tip of his tongue did a little dance, and his fingers gently prodded, sliding in and out while I was driving! I concentrated on the road ahead, cracking my window to stay alert. He lapped at me and finger fucked me at the same time. I had never felt such a delicious rush: the adrenaline from the speed, and this man’s face in my lap, his tongue lashing me as the dark night whipped past us.
On a wide bend, he stopped and tilted his face up. “Turn down the next side road and go faster,” he said, his fingers pressing deep into me as he brought his mouth down to dazzle me some more. The reflection from the dashboard played across his hair; I wanted this delicious man inside of me, and I wanted him now. The headlights illuminated a crossroads, and I signaled to no one my turn down a darkened, tree-lined road, gravel spattering against the bottom of the car. I momentarily panicked about divots and scratches, but shook away those thoughts as I turned up the volume on a sexy jazz station.
“I want more of you,” he whispered.
He yanked himself away from me, then wrestled, arched and bent as he began the difficult and near-comical task of removing wet jeans from his cold legs and pulling on a condom. He sounded like a man fighting another man in a phone booth. And yet, the more clothes he removed, the more aroused I became, such a revelation for me. Maybe I was more prone to being visually aroused than I thought.
He felt around for my right hand and placed it on his cool chest.
“Pull over. Kill the dash lights, Solange. I’m going to need you to warm my whole fucking body up,” he said, adjusting his seat back.
I slammed on the brakes and skidded to the shoulder of the empty road. Throwing the car into park, I cut the dash lights but left the engine running for the heat. My hand traveled over his stomach, his erection meeting my palm. This man was blessed. Or I was.
He perched a condom on the head and I unraveled it down his thick shaft, warming it as I went. He thrust up and into my touch, groaning in pleasure. I looked out the front window. The road was dark and empty, not a light for miles. His hands were behind his head and he was taking this in.
“Get your panties off,” he ordered. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”
As I frantically yanked them down and pulled my skirt up around my waist, all I could think was: What is happening to me? This bratty stranger gets in my car and goes down on me while I’m driving, and now I can’t get him inside me fast enough?
I was incredibly wet by the time I rolled over the middle console, my chest pressed against his, my head gracing the ceiling despite the fact that he’d pushed his seat back almost ninety degrees. He cupped me, letting one finger release more slickness. I looked down and watched him part me, the tip of his cock kissing, dipping up into me as my knees dug into the sides of the seats. I sunk onto him and oh how exquisite he felt, his fists at my hips. I gripped and tightened around him as he filled me up.
His hand at the back of my head, he took my hair in a fist and pulled my mouth down to his. He kissed me roundly, beautifully, as he thrust up into me, gently at first, his muscles undulating beneath me. But then he turned into a machine, hips gyrating, abs flexing and pumping, my knees now up alongside this torso, fucking up into me, my hands traveling to the car’s roof to stop my head from hitting it.
With both hands he unbuttoned my blouse and released my bra, so my breasts were loose under the lacy cups. He gathered them in his hands, a tangle now of fingers and breasts and lace and such beautiful fucking, shallow then deep, then deeper still. His mouth found a nipple and he sucked, locking his eyes on mine. Slick pleasure shot through me. He pressed a hand between my breasts, up my throat, encircling my neck. His other forearm gripped my lower back, pulling me to him. His thrusts grew more urgent; the groans came quicker. He was close and I was going to surpass him, my orgasm now a tight ball, my throbbing clit its very center; I could feel it nearing. I pressed the roof of the Rolls with my hands, fucking him back down onto the leather seat, taking my pleasure from his cock until I couldn’t stop it anymore. I came loudly into the dark night, the windows steamed and dripping with the sweat of our combined heat.
“Oh god,” I screamed.
“Fuck yeah,” he said, his hips moving faster. He came, too, his fingertips marking my flesh with every pulse of his cock as it emptied into me, sliding in and out, and in, and then out, as he subsided.
“Holy Mother of Mary,” he said, breathless, his voice an octave lower.
“You could say that,” I murmured, easing up and off him. I rolled back onto my seat, tugging my skirt down half-heartedly. I lay there splayed, reveling in that feeling of being utterly disheveled by an excellent fuck. I didn’t care that my flesh was exposed, my breasts peeking out of my loosened bra and unbuttoned blouse. I needed to catch my breath.
“Well, that was … I’m very …” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
Minutes later, bra clasped, blouse buttoned, skirt smoothed out, I patted down my hair and cleaned up a bit of the eyeliner that had drifted in our sweaty tussle. I started up the Rolls and threw it into drive, turning back down the highway where we’d left his truck.
“Should we call a tow truck to unlock your door?” I asked. “Happy to wait with you until it gets here.”
“That’s very generous of you,” he said, pulling on his jeans and reaching into his pocket for a set of keys. “But I’m good.”
“So that was all …”
“Yeah, it was a sympathy play.”
I smacked his arm.
“I was desperate! Oh—this is for you,” he said, pulling out my Step Four charm from the same pocket. He held it in front of me, pinched between his thumb and forefinger: Generosity.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a little undeserving. “I sure didn’t start out feeling all that generous towards you. You really scared the shit out of me.”
“Yeah, but you eventually came around.”
“I have a feeling most women do. You have that thing.”