Work Me Up

I smile against her breast. Then I slide my mouth of her tit, and kiss my way over to the other one.

“God damn it. Are you going to fuck me or not, Antonio?” she murmurs, her hands still fisted in my hair, as I start to lick and suck at her other nipple.

“Mmm,” I hum against her chest, which makes her suck in a sharp, startled breath once more. “Depends.” I draw back far enough to tilt my head and peer up at her. “Do you want me to fuck you? Right here in the middle of this filthy, greasy garage? All covered in muck from a hard day nearly breaking those pretty nails of yours…”

“Do you want to fuck me or fight me?” she practically growls through her teeth.

Which makes me stand, and in one motion, jerk her around so her backside faces me. Then my hand goes to the clasp of her jeans. I undo it, and slide one palm down the front of her pants. “Why not both?” I reply, my voice low too, very nearly a growl itself.

She shivers against my palm. I slide my fingers lower, until I feel the smooth skin over her mound.

“Clean shaven,” I comment, my mouth beside her ear. I trail my tongue along her lobe, and she sighs a little, before she catches herself. “Were you expecting this, then?”

“N-no,” she whispers. The slight hesitation gives her away.

My smile widens. “You were, weren’t you. You came here wanting this. Admit it.” My fingers slide farther down, down. I reach the edge of her panties. Lace. As if that’s not a dead giveaway. I don’t know a single woman who would wear lace panties unless she wanted someone besides herself to see them.

“Maybe I… have a hot date later. You don’t know,” she says.

Then my fingers skip under the panties, and she stops talking to bite her lip instead.

“You had a hot date… which you were going to go to all covered in car engine grease,” I muse. My fingertips reach her clit, now, and I graze against it ever so lightly, barely even a touch. Yet it’s enough to draw a faint keening sound from her mouth, as she arches back against me so hard that her glorious ass collides with my cock, and fuck, it takes everything in me to stay in control, in command.

Because this woman makes me want to lose all sense of either.

My fingertips press past her clit, and I reach the lips of her pussy. I spread them slowly, taking my time. Enjoying this moment. I slip one finger between them, and trail it along the length of her slit.

“You,” I say, pressing my finger farther into her slit for emphasis, “are absolutely fucking soaked.”

She lets out a sound that’s halfway between a growl and a groan, and then says, through gritted teeth, “Fine. Fine! You’re right, are you happy? I wanted to tease you. I wore tight jeans to make you stare, because—ah,” she stops, as I press my fingertip right up against the entrance to her pussy. I tease at it, pressing my fingertip in just barely, withdrawing it. In again, just the tiniest bit. She arches her hips, bucking against me like she’s trying to fuck my hand. “I wanted to… flirt. I don’t know.”

“Fuck me?” I ask, one eyebrow arched.

“Yes. Maybe? I don’t know.” She pauses to glance over her shoulder, and this way, half bent over the car she broke last time we met, with her hair wild and falling over her eyes, she looks even hotter than ever before. If that’s possible. She looks wild. Like she’s capable of anything. “You must know how fucking hot you are, fucker,” she says, though she grins when she says it.

I do. I can’t help it. “Nice of you to admit it, at least,” I tell her. Then I push my finger inside her pussy. Her reward for being a good girl.

She moans loudly, her whole body sinking against the car.

I push deeper, deeper. The woman really is fucking soaked. And her pussy feels so tight, too. One curl of my fingers and I can drag along her walls, making her buck and twist. But even though she keeps trying to thrust against me, ride my palm, I move slow. In, out. Easy and steady. In, out.

Her breathing gets harder. Faster.

So does mine.

“You’re pretty fucking gorgeous yourself, you realize that, right, Selena?” I whisper.

“I’ve… been told. Once or twice,” she says, her voice tight with concentration, like it’s taking all of her willpower to speak rather than dissolve.

“Not nearly enough, then,” I reply, and she goes quiet then. I worry I might have offended her, but then she starts to move again, rocking against my hand so that her clit grazes against the heel of my palm with each movement.