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“Oh, Christ you’re doing it, aren’t you,” he groaned. And what was she supposed to do, deny it? There was no way to. The sound of her sliding her dress up was loud enough, on its own. Then she stroked over herself, and oh god, somehow that rang out even louder.
It was all she could hear.
And probably all he could, too.
Though he didn’t seem to mind.
When she apologized, his reply was this:
“Why be sorry? You know I want you to.”
And oh holy fuck, the sweet sensation that sent through her.
It made her beg before she even knew she was willing to.
“God yeah, tell me that. Tell me you do.”
“I will, if you tell me exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m rubbing myself through my underwear.”
“And that feels good?”
“It feels slick.”
“Fuck, you filthy little thing,” he burst out.
At which point, she knew she should have felt embarrassed.
This was definitely where that emotion was supposed to go.
But here was the thing: nothing was happening.
It couldn’t happen when she could hear what he was doing, too.
He was breathing too hard, and that was definitely the sound of a hand on expensive material, and then after thirty seconds of this torture chamber of frantic, fumbling noises he came out with this: “Oh fuck, I gotta do something, too. You all right if I do something, too? Because I’m fucking losing it here, listening to you touching yourself in ways I can pretty much make out without even looking.”
And though all she did was groan helplessly in reply, and nod in a way he probably couldn’t see, she knew it was enough. She heard him fighting with his belt, and then with his zipper, and finally she got what she wanted the most:
The slide of his hand over his slick cock.
Slowly, she thought, slowly.
Though that didn’t seem to last long.
Most likely because she wasn’t holding back anymore, and he fucking knew it. “You’re fingering your cunt now, aren’t you,” he moaned, like he just couldn’t help it at this point. He had to let out his filthiest possible thoughts. But that was fine by her. Because a) he was absolutely right.
And b) the words went through her like fucking lightning.
She heard him saycuntand all she could do was go harder.
To sink right into that heated wetness, over and over.
Which of course, in turn, made him so much worse.
It made him groan and fill the car with the slickest sounds.
And urge her on in ways that made her go round the bend.
