Pushing the Limit

Dash

I’m anxious to know if Peppermint made it home all right. She didn’t seem drunk in the slightest. Then again, people can appear stone-cold sober when they want to — when they’ve become a professional at hiding their true state so no one knows they’re falling apart.

I text her, but she doesn’t reply. Fuck. My thoughts go haywire, imagining her lying in a damn ditch somewhere. To get rid of those thoughts, I go for a ride. I don’t know where Peppermint lives, but I ride past the bar, and a light in the window catches my attention.

I turn around and spot Peppermint’s truck, an ’87 Ford F150 that absolutely suits her. Pulling up beside it, I kill the engine on my bike before tugging my helmet off and heading inside to make sure she doesn’t need anything. Okay, fuck that. I head inside because I want to have her alone for once. And I want to tell her to answer her fucking phone when I text.

Peppermint is behind the bar, her curvy body swaying to a slow country song. The music is coming from an old jukebox that wasn’t here earlier. Not sure how she wrestled that thing in here.

“Nice touch,” I say, and she lets out a startled yelp, clutching her hand to her chest.

I chuckle and walk over to the jukebox to check out the songs, all thoughts of berating her for the whole text thing disappearing. There’s a mix of oldies rock and country. It’ll fit in perfectly. As I’m browsing the songs, she approaches.

“This was from the original bar.”

“It’s great. How’d you get it in here?”

“My son and a couple of his friends. I thought about it, and we went and got it out of storage.”

She leans forward, pressing some buttons, and I notice she isn’t wearing a bra. Makes me wonder if she’s been without one all night and if that’s the case, how I didn’t notice.

“This is one of my favorites,” she says.

The song changes. I don’t recognize the soulful voice, but I like it. Grabbing her hand, I spin her around before pulling her into my arms. She lets out a soft laugh as we start dancing. There’s a shift in the air as our dance turns sensual. My erection presses against her belly, and her perky nipples poke against the material of her T-shirt.

This is why I came inside. I needed to escape for a little while. Maybe a part of me knew she would be here when I rode past. And I knew if I came inside, I would finally have her.

I lean down, not giving her a chance to protest as I capture her lips. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I slowly walk her back until she’s pressed against the jukebox. I ease back so I can move my kisses to the soft curve of her neck. She threads her fingers through my hair, and I drop to my knees, unbuckling her jeans.

“What…what are you doing?”

“Turning these jeans inside out.”

I pull them down, wriggling them down her thighs. When I reach her ankle, I tug off her shoes and pull her jeans off, tossing them to the side.

“Dash…I…”

Her words are lost as I press a kiss to her thigh. I gaze up at her as I tug her panties down. She’s nervous, biting her bottom lip, but I’m going to make sure she doesn’t regret this. I’m going to lick her cunt until she comes on my face, then I’m going to turn her around and fuck her right here against this jukebox.

Peppermint watches as I ease her legs apart and rise to lick my tongue over her pussy lips. She sucks in a breath as I flick my tongue over her clit, gliding it back and forth between her folds.

“There goes that fucking blush.”

She props one foot on my shoulder, giving me full access to her hot pussy. I fucking devour it, enjoying the sucking noise my feast makes and the way she whimpers and moans my name.

I thought I would be chasing her forever, desperate to be inside her. But something changed. Something happened to make her give in to me.

Whatever it is, I’m fucking grateful, because she’s grinding her pussy on my face, and I know she’s ready to come for me.