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I’m about to make out in the back seat of a car,I giggled quietly to myself. I hadn’t done this since I was sixteen.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
I propped one boot on the floor of the car. His gaze flicked down to my leg, his nostrils flaring at how my dress rode up my thigh.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I whispered, leaning into the car.
I placed one knee on the back seat and knelt on the floor with the other, closing the door behind me.
The interior light dimmed. “Come closer,” I whispered.
He raised an eyebrow, shuffling across the seat towards me. “What are you—”
I pushed off the floor and swung my knee over his lap, straddling him.
“This too fast for you?”
His hands flew to my hips, his fingers digging in. “I like you fast. A lot.”
We kissed again: the kiss turning from sweet to brutal in less than a minute. I peeled off my coat and tossed it aside. I sucked and bit his neck. He groaned, pulling me closer.
I gasped against his neck and ground myself against the fly on his jeans. He was so hard. The friction was torturously sweet.
He continued to kiss, suck and lick along my jaw, neck and collarbone. My breasts felt heavy, and my nipples were hard, almost painful as they rubbed against my bra.
I wanted skin to skin. I wanted to touchhim,not his shirt or jacket. Impatient, I clawed at his jacket and tee shirt.
He released my hips and grabbed my hands, gasping for air. “For the record, I was just hoping to get your number and maybe kiss you goodnight.”
“You want to stop?” I asked, grinding my hips in a slow circle. I wasn’t playing fair.
He hissed, breathing hard, and arched his back, lifting his hips to grind against me. I cried out with pleasure and he shook himself out of a daze. “How far do you want to go?”
Wordlessly, I tugged my hands free of his and unbuttoned my dress, revealing my breasts in black lace.
“Fuck.” He palmed my breasts, taking the weight of each and squeezing. “So fucking beautiful.”
He kissed me along on the collarbone, following my bra strap until he reached my bra cup and then sucked my nipple through the lace.
“I want you.” I cried out.
“You’ve got me,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”
He shoved aside the lace, lapping and sucking at my breast. My mouth opened and closed several times before I could speak.
“I want you inside me,” I begged.
He stilled and I took his hand from my breast and placed it against my inner thigh. “Please. Touch me.”
His mouth parted as his fingertips brushed against the edge of my panties.
“You’re wearing more lace,” he groaned. “Do these match your bra?”
“Yes,” I breathed, bracing my hands on his shoulders.
He groaned again, cupping me. “Fuck, you are so wet.”
He pushed my panties aside, slowly trailing one finger along my seam to my clit.
