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“I’m not going to do this with you still high,” he groans. My dress hikes up, his jeans and my lace panties are the only things separating me from his erection. The denim straining against his hard-on presses almost painfully against my throbbing center.
“I’m not high,” I tell him, and he twitches against my drenched underwear. I bite on the inside of my cheek, but I can’t help it when a moan escapes between my lips. The friction is heaven and hell. I need him, want him more than he can imagine. But this is wrong, what I’m doing to him is wrong.
He keeps pleading with his eyes for me to make him stop. I don’t want him to. I want to fuck him, make love to him. I want to hurt him so bad he has to let me go, even if I don’t want him to. He drops his hands, and I fist his long hair, wanting him to kiss me. He strokes his fingers upwards along my naked legs. My hips have a mind of their own as I tilt up. He grabs my ass hard, his fingers digging into each cheek as he yanks me down and over his erection. His lips turn up slightly, as he watches me.
“Fuck, do whatever you want, Shorty.” The heat reflected in his eyes dries my mouth. His jeans stretch across his hard cock.
I keep the pressure against my panties constant as I slowly move back and forth. I kiss his temple, he sighs and closes his eyes. His hands slide up my sides stopping just below the contours of my bra. My chest rises and falls, as he strokes his thumb over the lace fabric. I fall forward against his chest, and he holds me in his arms, slowly rocking me from left to right.
“Damn babe,” he murmurs, and starts to nibble my ear. He parts my thighs and presses his hand against my butt crack, his middle finger stroking my drenched pussy through my dress.
I whimper, and when he says, “I can feel how fucking wet you are,” desire laces his hoarse voice. We are both panting hard, gasping for air, for each other. I don’t know if it’s because I barely know him or the fact we are alone in a car parked on an abandoned road. He growls and pushes me against the steering wheel, without warning he grasps both my breasts in his big hands. “Have been thinking about this every damn night,” he tells me. He holds my stare and parts his mouth as he takes one of my nipples between his fingers through the fabric, and rolls it over his thumb, and my butt shoots off his lap.
His right hand moves down, over my stomach to my knee. His eyes lock in on mine as I drape my arms around his neck and nod. He trails his fingers up and under the flimsy dress. I can smell my arousal filling the truck.
He brings his fingers to his mouth and wets two, my eyes roll into the back of my head as he pushes my underwear to the side and slips them into me. I groan loudly, and he swears when he makes contact with the line of curls above my pussy and my engorged clit. I’ve never heard the sound that leaves my mouth before. A satisfied smirk curls his lips, “You okay? Fuck, Shorty, you’re soaking wet.”
“Yes, oh god, Hunter,” trying to ignore the throbbing. I can’t come like this, from his touch alone, can I? “You’re an asshole,” I grit out, pushing myself against him, swirling my hips and wanting to come so badly I could scream.
Grabbing the back of my neck with his other hand he holds me in place as he slowly strokes my inner folds. He speeds up his fingers, fucking me with them. Pleasure takes over and I’m dripping over his hand. The way his fingers open me up, stroking my pussy lips leaves me breathless as I focus on the sensation.
He husks out, “I can say the same about you.” He inhales deeply, and roughly kisses me. I can still taste the blood from his bottom lip on my tongue, from when I slapped him.
“Shorty,” he huffs, thrusting his palm against me. He’s still swirling his fingers deep inside, raising my hips I ride his hand. I couldn’t escape this man even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to leave. I want him, all of him.
“Tell me not to fuck the living shit out of you. I’ve been fantasizing about this moment since you told me to fuck off,” he growls, his nose skimming along mine, and my clit pulses from his words. His fingers stretch me as he rubs my nub. Without warning he pulls his fingers out of me, and licks them clean as I watch.
He smiles and stares into my eyes.
I lean in and brush my lips over his. He kisses me again, first hard, then, when his tongue invades my mouth, he becomes softer. I can taste myself, a satisfied smirk curls his glistening lips, as I crash my mouth against his again. The way his piercing rolls against my tongue makes me moan. He nibbles on my bottom lip. Keeping his kisses soft, he teases me with his stubble, trailing his lip piercing over my mouth.
Opening his eyes, he gives me a lazy smile. Hunter knows he’s in charge; he has the power to make me do anything, to make me come, and judging by the look in his eyes, he wants it that way.
I love the taste of him on my tongue. I move against his erection, and heat builds between my legs.
“Shorty,” he groans through our kiss. I break away from him and try to catch my breath, my eyes flying to the massive bulge pressing against his zipper. He pushes me off him and I yelp. The dress hugs my hips, and he tugs at my panties. “Get those off,” he murmurs darkly, his voice rough and thick.
Yanking the front of my dress open, he pushes my hands high above my head so I have to strain my back. I can’t move my wrists; I’m at his mercy. Leaning his forehead against mine, he kisses my temple. I angle my head and find his lips, the heat of his body covering mine.
Letting go of my hands he licks the shell of my ear. Goose bumps break out all over my skin. Pulling down my bra cup he watches me carefully, his eyes shining before he moves down and encircles my nipple with his lips. The metal of his piercing scrapes over my sensitive flesh and I gasp.
“Fuck,” I whimper. My clit is throbbing from the sensation. I want to feel his tongue disappear between my pussy. He nuzzles the place between my breasts before he finds my nipple again and sucks hard as I scream his name, and he chuckles, letting the hard peak go with a pop. I get comfortable against the leather seat and he moves over me, hungry eyes roaming up and down my body.
Rough fingers caress my cheekbones, my chin. His eyes burn through me as he traces the line of my neck to my stomach, stopping before he reaches the place where I want him most. He places open-mouthed kisses between my breasts, slowly moving up to the corner of my mouth, my temple, his hands tunneling in my long hair. All the while, he pins me with his full weight.
“Oh God,” I say. I want Hunter. I want this.
He grinds his pelvic bone against me, and I gasp. The heat between his legs pushes against my entrance, making me wetter with each stroke. I shiver as he presses his arousal hard against me.
He reaches down and I watch him open his zipper, his erection clearly outlined against the cotton fabric of his boxers.
I caress his face, tracing the line of his eyebrows. Leaning into my touch, he kisses my forehead. Our warm breath mixes.
There is a question in his eyes. “Make me stop?” he whispers the words, pleading with himself.
“Don’t stop. Touch me, Hunter,” I beg, pushing against his hard-on, letting him know I want him, I want this. He could never hurt me like I’m hurting him.
He kisses me harder, demanding, and I want to get lost in his touch. I reach out and rub my palm over his dick. He moans and I bite on his earlobe. He grabs my hand. “Fuck, babe,” he rasps, his breathing erratic.
