I grab her hips and watch the screen while a smile crosses her face and she jerks back and forth.
She never talks like this.
I’ve never heard her say the words “fuck me harder.” Hell, I’ve never heard her say the words “fuck me” at all.
This is entirely new in almost every way imaginable, and I’m finding it hard to keep from triggering immediately with her overwhelming enthusiasm.
The sun is going down, but neither of us are cold as she hands the phone back to me, switching the camera off of selfie mode.
She must feel the shudder moving through me, as she turns her head and says, “Come on my skirt and on my back. I want something more to remember this moment than just the video.”
I’m not sure whether I’m confused by the way she’s talking or if I’m just delirious from pleasure, but with those words, I can’t hold it back any longer.
Doing my best to keep the camera steady, I pull back and angle myself, exploding over her back, and yes, on her skirt. The camera is shaking in my hand as it comes out in thick ropes of pent-up desire.
I lean forward, putting my free hand on the hood beside Melissa, and she asks if I’m done.
“Yeah,” I tell her, more breath than voice.
She stands up and slips her skirt down below her feet, making sure it doesn’t touch the ground.
Handing me the fabric, she asks me to clean her off, which I do gladly.
“All right then,” she says in a businesslike manner, her only clothing at the moment being that silk push up bra of hers. “You’re driving.”
I find my pants and shake as much of the accrued dirt off of them as I can, while behind me, I can hear the sound of the trunk popping.
When I turn around, pulling my pants up, Melissa’s almost completely dressed in clothes she must have packed into the trunk of the car.
“You planned this out pretty well, huh?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, anyway, it’s getting cold. We should get back to the house.”
“All right,” I answer, more confused than ever at her change in demeanor.
I get in the car and we’re almost back to the city before I realize I’m not wearing any underwear. The wind must have caught my boxers.
Laughing, I say, “So, you’re not going to believe this-”
“Yeah,” she interrupts, “would you mind if we talk about it later? I’m trying to get this video sent over to my phone and it’s not going through for some reason.”
“I have location turned off,” I tell her. “It won’t pick up the network unless we’re around Wi-Fi.”
“Ah,” she says, and after another minute, she hands me my phone, saying, “I think I might have accidentally deleted the video from your phone in the process of sending it to mine.”
“That’s all right,” I tell her. “I’ve got a pretty good memory.”
She just sighs and looks out the window.
“We should stop by the hospital so we can pick up your car,” she says.
I’m starting to get the feeling that something’s wrong.
Chapter Five
Making Friends
Grace