Mr. Temptation

The crease between her brow deepened and he had to fight not to kiss it away. ‘I know you don’t.’

‘Then this...’

‘This is just sex, pure and simple.’ Her frown eased, her words so matter-of-fact.

He eyed her, disbelief giving way to far more base urges. ‘Are you sure?’

She nodded. ‘Do I really have to convince you?’

Before he could answer, she fisted her hand in his shirt, yanking him in, her mouth crushing his with such force, such need, the fire exploded, the strain against his jeans so fierce it made him wince but still his cock thrust, desperation sending him bucking against the constriction. Her hand dropped to seek him out, her fingers brazen over the fastening of his trousers, working it undone.

Skit, they were out of control.

He opened his eyes, peered through the glass; the house looked deserted, but was it? He was about to ask when her hand slipped inside his clothing, her fingers wrapping around him—‘Fuck.’

He dropped his gaze to where she held him, her hand fighting with the restricted space to move over him, and he pulsed in her grasp, pre-cum slipping through her fist.

He wanted more. Needed more. He shimmied his jeans lower and swept a hand to her thigh, loving her soft heat beneath his palm. He brushed upwards, his intent turning hazy as she started to pump over his cock.

He screwed his eyes tight and pressed his head against hers, the muscles of his thighs rigid with his need to stave it off. ‘I’m going to make a mess of my car if you keep this up.’

‘No, you won’t,’ she breathed, brushing his hand away.

He opened his eyes to look at her. ‘I want to touch you.’

‘And I want to taste you,’ she said, her head lowering as his cock all but exploded in her fist, and likely would have done if she hadn’t let go that second to use her hands to reposition herself.

She clambered up, her knees pressing into the side of the centre console as she angled over him, encouraging his own body to fall back into his seat, his hand reaching out to brush through her hair as he lost himself in the hunger of her gaze. Then she dropped her lashes, her focus on his dick as her fingers slipped gloriously around the throbbing heart of him. He clamped his jaw tight, heat streaking through his thighs, through his gut, the blood congregating at his head painfully acute and then she wrapped her tongue around him, lapping every drop of pre-cum and sending his mind dizzy with lack of oxygen.

Breathe, goddamn it.

He was losing it, so wholly and completely, he bucked upwards, pushing for more, and she treated him to a peck at his tip. ‘Patience.’

‘Fuck.’ He was trying, he was always steady in the sack, always in control, right till the very end, but she was making it impossible. Just as she was in life.

Her mouth came down over him. Once, twice, and then she drew him deeper in, hard and deep. Fireworks went off behind his lids, his head thrown back against the seat. Up and down she milked him, sweet little sounds erupting deep within her throat. Her own excitement calling his hand to her as he reached under her curved form, under the floaty fabric of her dress, seeking out the wetness he knew he’d find. It was there before he even reached the trim of her underwear, its slickness over her thighs almost pushing him to the edge, and he seethed between his teeth, forcing down the ache, his free hand gripping the arm rest in the door.

And then he slipped beneath the lace, his fingers surrounded by her wetness, her neatly trimmed pussy offering up no protection from the fact that she dripped for him.

Hell, yeah.

He bowed his head, his eyes taking in her head bobbing over his cock; he’d never wanted to draw a moment out so bad in his life. ‘You feel so good,’ he said, his fingers sliding within her seam, her slickened warmth welcoming him in, and she bucked against his hand, a moan reverberating around his cock.

‘You like that?’ He swirled over her pea-like nub and she writhed, her murmurs fervent and urgent. He was using her need, focusing on it, to slow himself down, but it was turning into his undoing. His tempo ratcheting as her breathing turned ragged around him, her fist pumping wild and tight beneath her mouth.

Their sounds filled the cabin: her sucking lips, the slapping of her wetness around his fingers, the moans neither could suppress. And he lost it, the force of his orgasm sending his butt off his seat, his cock smacking the back of her throat, his cum with it.

She clenched around him, her own body racked with waves as her climax took hold, and still she took his all, drinking him down, her satisfied moans so erotic, her movement captivating. He watched her intently, his fingers cupping against her as she rode it out, and then gently he slipped his hand away, out from beneath her pants and to his lips, tasting her as her head lifted.

‘You taste as good as you look.’

Her cheeks were flushed, her smile sultry, her hair as wild as her eyes as she looked to him and his chest contracted, his lungs winded.

‘You too,’ she said, licking her lips as she dropped back into her seat and righted her hair, her composure falling back into place and stunning him still. ‘You ready to see what this baby has to offer?’

She gestured to the house and it took a moment for him to recover, a moment for his hands to obey his bidding and right his jeans.

She was ruining him, not the other way around.