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He doesn’t even seem to notice when I shift way over, pulling a blanket out of the seat pocket in front of me. Nice touch. Somebody has thought of everything.
The car rocks subtly from side to side, the V-12 engine sending a sturdy vibration through the seat. As soon as the blanket covers me, I flip open the button on my jeans, opening the zipper and sliding them down slightly.
Normally I like to be on my belly, riding my fingers with my hand pinned underneath me, but I don’t see how that is possible here. Yet as soon as I begin to touch myself, my body thrums in anticipation. I can feel the climax opening like a blossom, spiraling in front of me, just waiting to be plucked from the air.
I’m sticky and so wet, my fingers slide easily between my lips, and the sensations urge me to do more. More pressure. More sensation.
Closing my eyes, I’m transported back to last night when I had Jack and Chance, one in each hand. Those velvety, hard cocks pumping smoothly against my palms. The fervent desire in their eyes. I can just imagine what it would be like to have one of those sweet rods slipping between my lips, brushing against my clit, nosing against my hole. It would be so hard to take one of them. Just too big. Much bigger than I have ever attempted before.
But I want to. Oh, how I want to.
A groan almost escapes my lips and I remember that I have to be quiet. I bite my lips closed and breathe through my nose as evenly as possible as my fingertips tap and rub my clit urgently, rolling it in circles, letting my mind fill in the rest of the details. What if there was a fat cock inside me? What if there was another fat cock behind me, probing, exploring, simultaneously slipping into crevices I’ve never had filled before?
Oh, it’s just too much!
I have to hold my breath to keep from crying out as the orgasm shatters through me, blasting my muscles into clenching, exploding in a gush of juices. It turns my insides all honey and bright, sweet and shuddering, desperate with longing.
My breath comes back to me, fast and whimpery. It’s never been like this. I am in pieces. I’m such a mess.
But I just let the sensations course through me, pretending to be asleep while we cross the Illinois border. After a little while I can slowly pull my jeans back up under the blanket, and I am fairly certain that I have not been discovered.
Was it enough? Not hardly. What am I supposed to do with this? I’m still as horny as fuck. I still can’t stop thinking about them.
Oh my God. I am going to have to get a grip.
Come to think about it, what was Jack even talking about? A job? How insane is that?
I can just see it: the three of us going out with Ned and Matthew, holding hands? Sneaking a kiss? And when people say hello, what are we supposed to say? “Oh, hello? This is my nanny/girlfriend/stepsister?”
Sure. Let’s do that.
That’s crazy.
No, I was right to leave. My life is in Evanston. With Ronnie…
Or without Ronnie? Because if I am being honest? This is a real wake-up call. Ronnie is barely a boyfriend. He is barely a guy I know. He is just where I keep all my stuff and kind of a shitty boss, too. If I were working with him and not sleeping next to him, I would quit.
He doesn’t show up. He doesn’t do his work, just pawns it all
off on me. He’s terrible at ordering. He’s terrible at doing the schedule. He definitely can’t make coffee. In fact, this place was much better off being the small Italian restaurant that his parents owned before he decided on a whim that a coffee shop made a lot more sense. I mean, there is a 900 ft.² kitchen in there.
Who does that?
Kind of a nitwit. And definitely not open to suggestions.
Come to think of it, what have I been doing with my life? This isn’t where I wanted to be. I’m glad I got my degree, but am I doing anything with it? Even a nanny gig would be an improvement over trying to draw lotus flowers in cappuccino foam.
Of course, I’m actually pretty good at that.
So, yeah… I need to change. I definitely need a change. This feels good. Feels like a new day is breaking. I am renewed. Reborn! I feel like I should get a haircut or a tattoo or something. Something to mark the moment.
“Excuse me, sir?” I call out.
The driver’s eyes flicker up into the rearview mirror. He doesn’t seem to be giving me any kind of acknowledgment that he caught the show I was putting on back here.
“Yes, miss?”
“Can we swing by my apartment? I’d like to pick up a sweater before work. I didn’t bring any warmer clothes.”
