She is already soaked.
I circle her clit with my thumb while my fingers push inside her at the same time, stretching her carefully. Her head tips back and her chest rises with a shaky inhale. Her legs try to close around my arm, but I keep them open and slide my fingers deeper, curling them slightly until her body reacts.
She gasps and grabs the trunk harder.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers.
I drop to my knees between her legs while keeping my fingers inside her. I pull her closer until she sits right at the edge of the trunk, her ass hovering over his face through layers of steel.
I flatten my tongue against her and drag it slowly while my fingers pump inside her.
She cries out, and the sound is not quiet.
Her hips jerk forward into my mouth while her body clenches around my fingers. Her breathing turns messy instantly. I work her with my tongue in long strokes, then circle her clit while curling my fingers inside her, rubbing that place that always makes her lose control.
Her thighs start shaking.
Her hands slide on the metal before gripping again.
“Oh fuck,” she gasps.
I suck her clit into my mouth while my fingers move deeper, slower, then faster, stretching her open and filling her at the same time. Her hips start grinding against my face in short, desperate movements.
The car rocks under us. Inside, Elliot screams again.
“Brooke!” he yells. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
She hears him, and I feel it in the way she tightens around my fingers.
I drive my fingers harder into her and curl them firmly while my mouth stays on her, licking and sucking until her whole body starts trembling.
Her stomach tightens visibly. Her breathing breaks apart into gasps.
She is dripping onto my mouth.
“Please,” she whimpers. “I’m going to come.”
I push in deeper and work her faster, relentlessly now, with my fingers curling and uncurling inside her while my tongue keeps circling her clit without mercy.
Her thighs clamp around my shoulders. Her back arches. Her hips buck forward.
Right then, Elliot makes another sound from inside the trunk, and it comes out thin and weak. He is running out of fight or oxygen.
She comes hard.
Her body locks around my head, squeezing my fingers as wave after wave tears through her. Her hips slam forward. Her chest heaves. Her mouth opens in a sound she can't control while I keep my fingers inside her and my mouth on her, riding every wave.
She shakes violently. Her moans come out broken and high.
I stay there and hold her through it, feeling every pulse, every clench, every desperate aftershock around my fingers while my tongue never leaves her.
She is still trembling when I finally slow my fingers and pull them out of her gradually, watching her wetness shine in the light, knowing he hears every sound she makes while she comes on top of his coffin.
I slide my hands up her sides and hook my fingers under the neckline of her dress. I shove the fabric down hard and slow, scraping it over her skin until her tits spill free. They are full and heavy in my hands, nipples already tight from the cold and from the way she just came apart for me. I lean down and take one into my mouth. I suck hard, my tongue working her nipple while myhand closes around the other breast and squeezes. I roll her nipple between my fingers until she gasps and arches, pushing herself into my mouth.
Her back bows, her chest pressing into my face, her hips rocking. I can feel my cock straining behind my zipper, aching and thick and pissed off from waiting.
I pull back just long enough to undo my pants and free myself in one sharp motion. My cock slaps against my stomach, heavy and leaking, and I make sure she sees it. I want her eyes on it. I want her to feel the way my body is coiled and ready when I step between her thighs. Her pussy is still pulsing, wet, hot, and open.
