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Her fingers were full-on clutching at my sweater now, like she was barely hanging on for dear life, or wanted to tear it off me.
God, yes.
I took that as the invitation her stubborn mouth wouldn’t utter.
My hands inched up until they cupped her breasts, finding her nipples hard and aching for me. A ragged groan tore from the back of my throat as my thumbs flicked over them, each brush eliciting more of those desperate little sounds I was getting high on.
“F-fuck, just like that. Let me hear you,” I rasped on her mouth, kneading her breasts in my palms and teasing her nipples through her bra, pinching them between my thumbs and index fingers.
A jerky, trembling line ran through her as she moaned on my mouth and—
Slow and greedy, she ground down, and electricity zinged through me, jerking my hips up, cock straining against my pants. I bit down on a moan, pulled back to scan her face and found her flushed, breathless, eyes fluttered shut as she rocked onto my lap again.
I yanked her sweater over her head in one fluid motion.
It landed with a soft thud somewhere in the car.
My breath hitched and died.
Her hair spilled over delicate shoulders, curls mussed by my greedy fingers. A few stray strands brushed over the blush creeping down her neck, all the way down to her chest, full and heavy, peaked nipples straining under a thin layer of lace that mocked and invited me all at once, with every one of her laboured breaths.
“So fuckin’ perfect…”
My voice scraped out of my throat, raw and stripped of all pretence, as my fingers slid up to cup her, kneading and massaging.
Soft flesh gave under my touch, blowing my pupils wide.
Another whimper rang out, loud as a gunshot in the charged silence, and I lunged.
My lips ghosted wet kisses all over her chest, tasting her freckles, as I dragged her against me in slow, torturous grinds, each making my blood run thicker.
A shuddering groan of pleasure rewarded me, and then her body took over, fingers digging into my back as she gave into the maddening friction.
My tongue snaked under the lace of her bra, tracing a teasing, filthy line right below the cup, while one of my hands trailed up to pinch her nipple.
When I twisted, a sharp, broken little sound tore from her, and I panicked for a split-second, before she arched into my touch, begging for more without words.
And then, the killshot.
A soft gasp of my name, almost cracking into a moan.
Lightning crackled down my spine.
My cock twitched in my pants, and my hips thrust upwards, seeking more. More friction, more broken sounds, more of her.
“Someone might come,” she repeated, freezing mid-grind, eyes rounded, pupils blown, as she glanced out and met only fogged-up windows.
“Relax. Nobody’s coming.”
Her voice cracked on a half-whine as my mouth closed over a nipple and sucked, and the taste of her coated my tongue—warm skin with a hint of salt.
“Besides,” I added, tone growing filthy as my palm splayed on the small of her back, guiding her against me, “last I checked, the risk only turns you on.”
My teeth grazed her nipple as I released it, drawing out another delicious shudder, before tugging at the fabric of her bra, and giving the other rosy peak the same treatment.
“Nnngh—not true,” she lied, hips resuming the slow, maddening drags over my dick, and I cursed myself for not wearing something thinner. For wearing pants at all.
“Liar,” I purred, the sound of my voice drowned by her bra clasp coming undone.
