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I had my eyes closed up until now; don’t know when I shut them. I open them and look down.
I look at the obscene picture we make. My fingers buried in his hair and his mouth buried in my cunt, moving this way or that, up and down. My thighs are open and his shoulders are jammed in between them. My skirt is somewhere around my waist and my blouse is all wrinkled and bent out of shape.
But that’s not the most shocking thing.
The shocking thing is that Zach, the guy who’s eating me out, is humping the air. His hips are moving and he’s kneading his dick.
His pissed-off dick.
He’s tugging it with one hand while his other hand holds my pussy open. It’s all happening inside his pants. He hasn’t even taken it out, and yet he’s abusing it.
The taste of my pussy is making him abuse it.
“Z-Zach… I…”
I trail off when he grunts the loudest at the sound of his name on my lips and his hand moves. It trails away from my pussy and kneads my bare ass that was stuck to the heated metal and I hadn’t even realized it.
I guess I haven’t realized a lot of things.
Things like how, standing like this, one leg flung over him and the other slightly bent, opens up something else.
Something that I never – not in a million years – thought that someone would touch. That other hole, pleated and dark.
Zach kneads a globe of my ass before dragging his fingers down along the seam before grazing that uncharted part of me.
His fingers there and his mouth on my clit, making my vibrating channel soppy, make me come.
My hips jut off the car but Zach keeps me balanced with his body and his mouth that’s still sucking on my clit while lapping up all the juices from my core. His fingers are still buried in my seam, pressing against my dark hole that won’t stop clenching.
“God…”
I moan and claw at his neck and chant out his name over and over. My entire body clenching and releasing until there’s nothing left.
In the background, I’m aware that he’s shuddering too. That Zach’s moving, shifting, and his grunts crescendo to a long, masculine moan.
It makes me want to smile.
I wish I could smile though. But all my energy is gone. I’m half slumped over him and half leaned against the truck, and I want to crumple to the ground.
Then I feel arms around my waist and I open my eyes. Zach’s eyes are lazy and his lips and jaw are covered with me.
I hang from his arms, limp and sated. “I think I’m dead.”
He reaches up with his other hand and wipes me off his lips. “Yeah? Then how are you still talking?”
I chuckle drowsily. “You killed me.”
Amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“You came too, didn’t you?”
At this, he looks away from me. He straightens my clothes with no help from me whatsoever. I just keep staring at his face, his beautiful sharp face.
“What? Are you embarrassed that you came? It’s okay. I came too. Like a fucking train.”
When he’s done he lifts his eyes to me. “I know. You flooded my mouth.”
I bite my lip, smiling like a lunatic.
“You always get drunk after an orgasm?”
I wind my arms around his neck, letting him take all my weight, and reach up to kiss his jaw. “Maybe.” My eyes go wide. “Oooh! I have an idea.”
“Why don’t you try keeping it to yourself for once?”
I tug at his hair. “How about you give me another orgasm and we can find out.”
Chuckling slightly, he tucks my flyaway strands behind my ear. “Right now, we’re getting you home. I’ll get someone to drive your car back.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Without acknowledging my thanks, Zach bends down and heaves me up in his arms for the second time tonight. Although, this one’s bridal style.
“Oh, you don’t have to carry me.”
He’s silent as he begins walking.
I nuzzle against his collar bone. “I’m heavy.”
“If you say that one more time, I’ll drop you right here and leave. You can find your own way back home.”
I don’t know why but I can’t stop my smiles tonight. Maybe orgasms do make me drunk. Or maybe it’s orgasms given by him.
“You wouldn’t,” I mumble.
Growling, he squeezes his arms, thereby squeezing me to his chest. I snuggle against him as we walk through the still charged-up and noisy crowd. Zach stops by a few people and tells someone to drive my car back.
Then he walks to his bike and sits me down on it. When I touch the heated metal with my bare feet, I realize I left my Mary Janes somewhere back by the truck.
Eh, it doesn’t matter. I have my prince, I don’t need shoes.
Zach fits his helmet over my head and straps it closed, getting in front of me. “Hold –”
