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We both know I look great, but admittedly, I’m dressed for war because it feels like that’s what I’m walking into. Black suit, white shirt, and a red paisley power tie that unexpectedly coordinates with Samantha’s dress. It’s much more traditional than my typical suits, but this dinner warrants it.
“More like combative,” I correct. “Me versus the rest of my family.”
“But you’ve never gone in with me at your back. I’ve whipped Carter into shape, gotten you speaking in tongues, and I think Kayla and I are kindred spirits. Like this,” she says, crossing her fingers. “As for the rest of ‘em? I’ll tell ‘em to fuck off ten different ways before the salad course if I have to and suggest a toy or two with which to do it.”
I have no doubt that she would. Or might still.
“I think this has a distinct possibility of being the best family dinner ever,” I predict, “though I’d still rather do almost anything but this tonight.”
Exiting the highway, I drive through the backroads toward home. I’m taking the long way, trying to delay the inevitable, but it’s having the opposite effect from what I’d hoped. Instead of the overhang of trees and deserted road helping me calm and centering my mind before battle, I’m getting more and more stressed with every passing mile as I play out potential scenarios and how I might respond.
“Are you trying to leave fingerprints on my leg? I’m not against a handprint here or a hickey there, but visible ones at the Harrington estate? What willtheysay?” she declares, sounding mock outraged as she places a hand to her chest to grab invisible pearls.
I laugh, thankful for the lightness she brings. “I needed that.” I squeeze her thigh once more and then relax my grip.
“I know what you need,” she suddenly says.
When I cut my eyes her way, her mischievous smile both excites and worries me. I lift my brows in question.
“You need to relax, and the best way to do that is...” Before I figure out what she’s up to, she’s twisting in her seat and leaning over the console. “Watch the road.”
“Samantha,” I argue, “we can’t.” I’m still not sure what she’s planning, but it can’t be anything safe or reasonable in that position.
“We’renot. I am. You’re driving, so eyes forward, Mr. Harrington.” Her deft fingers have made quick work of my zipper, and with a bit of adjusting, she frees my growing cock and takes it into her hand, giving me a few loose strokes.
I glance down and find her already looking at me, testing to see whether I’ll obey her order. This is dangerous, ridiculously so, but she’s so irresistible and there’s no one else on the road in front of or behind me. There’s a part of me that loves the idea of doing this on the way to a proper dinner too, like it’s a rebellion against what Ishoulddo.
Sensing my indecision, she leans over further and kisses the tip of my cock. “Fuck,” I hiss, cursing my seatbelt for keeping me from burying myself into her throat in one stroke. She knows she’s got me.
Her tongue devilishly traces the rim before she takes more in and out of her mouth. She can’t swallow all of me, the angle isn’t right for that, but it’s enough to get me on edge quickly. With each suck, I press the gas a little, creeping up in speed as I lose myself in the moment.
The world doesn’t exist. The law and rules have faded away. Only the thrill of her mouth drawing me higher as we go faster matters. She can sense it, hearing the engine roar as she speeds up, and her tongue...
I give in to her, surrendering to the ecstasy and mind-blowing pleasure, lost in the moment as she uses her hand, her mouth, and her tongue to draw me to an explosive brink. Surprisingly, being restricted by the seatbelt and the requirement to focus on the road, and therefore having to submit to Samantha’s mercy, is a major turn-on I never would’ve guessed I’d respond to, but fuck if I’m not already on edge.
“Get ready,” I growl as I feel my climax coming. “Don’t you dare spill a drop. Swallow it all like my good cum slut, m’kay?”
She moans her agreement, and the vibration does it.
I grip the steering wheel tight and push the gas a bit harder as I explode, the world almost dissolving in a rush of white light as I fill her eager mouth. And true to her bewitching nature, she drains every single drop from me, not missing a single bit.
Sitting back in her seat as I slow back down, Samantha hums and wipes at her lips in a ladylike move that belies the decidedly unladylike thing she just did. “Delicious.”
“You’re amazing,” I sigh as I fumble with resetting my clothes one-handedly.
Satisfied with herself, she smirks. “Feeling better now?”
I chuckle under my breath. “You know I am, and though I’d love to make you put a foot on the dash and watch you work magic on yourself too, I’ve been doing loops on the backroads to give us more time, and we’re late.”
Touching up her lipstick, Samantha cuts her eyes my way. “I want more than a quickie, and later, after we rock this dinner party, you can thank me properly. On your knees.”
“With pleasure,” I agree easily, more than eager to do that.
Before her, I never would’ve done something like this. I mean, I’ve never gotten so much as a seatbelt ticket and am more Boy Scout than Bad Boy. Doing wild things in the privacy of our homes, or even at the club behind locked doors, is one thing.
Doing them while driving down the road is another completely.
I’m so far from my professed morals and values that I don’t even know what to call myself. If the guys at the club knew what I’m doing with Samantha, they would accuse me of being a hypocrite. But I don’t feel like a hypocrite. I feel like the world’s finally making sense, and the chaos I constantly try to organize has instead become a beautiful, blurry watercolor.
