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“Sometimes, Barlow, I look at you now and I think I don’t know who you are anymore. Then, I realise I’ve just had the privilege of seeing you come out of that fucking depressingly prudish shell.” He put his foot on the running board. “Up and over then, love.”
He winked and I sort of stood up as he pulled himself into the passenger seat. I straddled him as I reached into his front pocket for the condom. I put it between my teeth as my hands went to his belt.
It was quick, it was awkward, it was heated, but it was amazing.
He held me tight, lazily kissing my neck, before I got off him.
“You know, you’re the only girl I’ve done in here.”
“Sure I am,” I laughed as I slid off him. I did love how he made that super disappointed noise whenever I did that, though.
“No lies, Barlow. Scout’s honour. You’re the only girl I’ve done in my car, on my car, against my car… Really, anything to do with my car.”
I looked at him as we tidied up. “You weren’t in the Scouts.”
“It’s a figure of speech, Barlow,” he huffed sarcastically as he shifted into the driver’s seat.
I sat down, pulled on my belt and fluffed out my hair in the visor mirror. Something stopped me in my tracks.
“You gave me a hicky!” I cried.
He snorted. “Yeah, my bad.”
“You…” I muttered as I rifled in my bag for my scarf. “Just be lucky it’s still cold enough for this.”
He snorted again and started the car. “You love it.”
Weirdly, I sort of did.
