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He moves his seat back, and I get more comfortable, straddling his thighs. The steering wheel is jammed against my lower back, but the pain is nothing compared to the explosion I feel throughout my body.
Why can’t I fight it? Why is he breaking down my barriers? Why does he make me feel like I’m alive again in his arms?
His hands go down on my butt, pressing them hard on his tense cock. My fingers twist in his hair, and I pull on his strands, making him lean his head back. My mouth travels down his neck and then back up, and my teeth bite into his earlobe. And I want so much more…
Look at me, I was ready to get out of that car, and here I am a few minutes later swaying on top of him, my body calling to his. It’s like I don’t have the will to fight anymore when Tucker touches me. It’s so…strange. I undulate against his thighs, unable to hold on any longer.
He straightens up a bit against his seat, and his right hand reaches under my blouse, his hot fingers caressing my belly, tracing my belly button, before reaching my bra to access my breasts.
“Oh, babe…”
My nails dig into his skin, and he tugs on one of my nipples with an awful slowness. Then he moves his hands away and pulls off my blouse. I see a button pop, but I don’t care. I am completely focused on what is happening, and I bite my lip. The only sound that fills the car is the rubbing of my hand on his jeans. My fingers land on his erection and squeeze it through the rough fabric.
“Fuck,” he swears through his teeth, suddenly closing his eyes.
Again, his desire stirs mine. I squeeze him a little harder, and a thud is muffled in his chest. His fingers move down the cups of my bra, not bothering to remove it. His tongue runs tirelessly over my hardened nubs. It’s far too good to stop now. My head falls back, and my hands grab the strands of his hair, on his neck. I pull his face to me, silently indicating what I want. And he gives it to me, pressing his lips to the vein that pulses madly in my neck. His tongue follows it until it reaches my breasts again. My ass slides on his cock. I can’t wait any longer. I release his hair and undo his belt. The sound of his fly going down mixes with our gasps.
Then a thought comes to me. Damn it! I look up to find Tucker’s eyes following the movement of my fingers.
“Tucker,” I whisper, but he doesn’t listen to me. “Tucker! Condom.”
His left hand squeezes my hip, and a naughty smile comes over his face.
He leans over, taking me with him, and opens the glove compartment in front of the passenger seat.
“Look what I found,” he says, waving a silver wrapper in front of my eyes.
I sit down a little more comfortably. “I don’t know if I’m happy about the fact that you have one on hand or not. Did you think we were going to have sex?”
Actually, I’m more concerned about which bitch he was going to use it with.
“Ask your real question, Iris,” he whispers.
I purse my mouth, trying to look detached. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure you’re wondering if it was meant for another girl.”
1-0 for Tucker Bomley, ladies and gentlemen.
I part my lips, glaring at him.
He laughs softly and kisses the tip of my nose before frowning. His gesture shocks both of us. What was that?
I don’t feel like thinking and rip the condom out of his hands. “Of course it wasn’t for another girl,” I affirm, “you want me too much to go find relief elsewhere.”
He doesn’t respond.
1-1.
He kisses me again instead and unhooks my belt. I sit up straight to give him room. “Ouch,” I grumble when my head hits the ceiling of the car.
He can hardly restrain himself from laughing and resumes his task. He seems so good with his hands, as if this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with someone in his pickup. Has he? With Sarah, maybe?
What the hell is wrong with me?! I don’t care about that! I hate to have these thoughts, but the question is still running through my head. I ignore him and hand him the condom. He gently lifts me up again, and this time a moan escapes both of us as he gently penetrates me.
It’s not very convenient, and people are probably watching us, but at no time do I want to stop. We are launched, determined to reach ecstasy. Our tongues dance together to the rhythm of our movements. His fingers tighten on my hips, mine on his neck. And he lets me lead this time. I undulate on top of him, rise and fall quickly before starting again with a deliberate slowness.
“Iris,” he mumbles while pressing me against him so that I can speed up.
