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“How is the Country Club going? Have I missed any major scandals?”
“Uh.” I rack my brain, jumping when Merch’s foot starts slowly rubbing up and down against my bare ankle in deliberate strokes. “The Wiltmans are divorcing. He finally got sick of her sleeping around.”
“Finally. I thought he would never grow a pair. What else?”
“Carey Ackerman is having a baby. IVF.”
“Good for her.”
I keep running my mouth with every little tidbit of gossip I can think of while Merch’s foot slowly drives me crazy. My vagina is like fucking slip N slide right now. I need to come. I need to come like there’s no tomorrow.
“We should get home,” Palmer finally interrupts, and I fall silent. Thank god. I thought he would never step in. Lisa would have been happy to sit here all afternoon, hearing little things about home. I think she might miss that stuff a little bit. Poor thing. I should definitely organize to see her again.
Merch slides out of the booth, and I bite back a whimper at the feeling of him not touching me anymore. Thankfully, I keep silent, pulling out some cash.
“Oh, I can get my meal,” Lisa protests, but I shake my head, dropping enough cash to cover both meals and a large tip.
“It’s fine. I got this. I interrupted your afternoon.”
Palmer takes Lisa’s hand, leading her out of the diner. I follow, and Merch trails after me.
“We should do this again sometime,” Lisa offers, smiling at me. I grin back at her.
“Definitely. I’ll text you.”
“Or call.” She taps her ear. “I can hear on the phone.”
I nod, but Palmer has already smirked at me, starting to drag her away. They disappear into one of the tall apartment buildings nearby.
As Merch's breath brushes my ear, a shiver works its way up my spine.
“Give me your car keys.” His lips brush the outer shell of my ear, and my breathing hitches. I spin around, my eyebrows shooting up.
“Robbing me, are you?”
“Kidnapping, actually,” he smirks back, holding out his hands. Okay. I’m horny enough now I’d be down for some kidnapping. Hell, I’d be down for rope play as long as I get tocome.
Fishing the keys out of my purse, I slap them down in his hand. Merch’s arm drops around my shoulder as he steers me to my BMW. I’d ask how he knew which car was mine, but I don’t really care. He hits the beeper, unlocking it and holding the passenger door open as I slide in.
Jogging around, Merch gets into the driver's seat, adjusting the position so his long, jean-clad legs fit. Grinning like a little kid, he squeals out of the parking space, roaring out of town. I can’t help but laugh. He’s definitely making more use of the horsepower than I do.
Merch doesn’t slow down until we’re in the desert, pulling over onto a shoulder near a lone Joshua tree. I peer out the window but can’t see anything special about our location. A soft electronic whirring brings my attention back to Merch, who is adjusting his seat again. Back. As far back as it will go.
“Lose the jeans, kid,” he smirks across at me, unzipping his own jeans and fisting his cock. Fuck yeah.
Shimmying out of my jeans and panties, I drop them on the floor at my feet. Merch drops a condom from his pocket into the center console and reaches over, plucking me out of my seat and settling me onto his lap.
One of his long-fingered hands cups the back of my neck, drawing my face down to his, our lips meeting. Moaning, I snake my arms around his neck, pressing against him as his tongue plunders my mouth.
The hard ridge of his cock caresses my core as I writhe against him. Finally, Merch breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you, kid,” he gasps. God, yes. Nodding frantically, I suck on his neck as he groans, tearing the wrapper and rolling on a condom.
His large hands wrap around my waist, positioning me and pushing me down on his cock as his hips slam up. Oh. So full. So incredible. I’m more than ready for this.
“So good, Merch,” I moan, my head tipping back. He growls at the sound of me moaning his name, manipulating my hips so I am riding him. My clit is rubbing against his pubic bone, and I’m lost in the sensations.
When Merch’s lips find my neck, he returns the favor, sucking lightly. I shatter, grinding down on his cock as I ride out my orgasm. Merch captures my mouth again, his hand cupping the back of my neck to hold it in place. He groans, his hips jerking, and slumps back into the seat.
