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I swallow a thick lump of tears. He knows what I think when I don't hear from him. He knows my worry and my terror.
He reaches for me, his large fingers tangling into my hair. "Come here."
I launch myself onto him, somehow straddling him despite the cramped quarters. His face is in my hands and I'm kissing him like I need his lips to survive.
"I don't want to let you go," he murmurs, his hands up my skirt and under my panties. "I love you."
Tears are streaming out the corner of my eye. "I love you so much."
I grind against him as we kiss one final, desperate time. "We've got to get the car back," I say.
"I need you one more time." His voice is raw and tinged with pain. "Sit up a little."
I lift myself a few inches — not easy, given the space constraints — and I feel his hands underneath me. The sound of his zipper fills the car, and then I feel his cock against my core.
I shove my wet panties aside and sink onto him, moaning as he fills me. I'm already wet, of course.
"So perfect," he whispers. "Whenever I'm inside of you, it's so perfect."
Gripping his thick hair in my fists, I ride him hard, fast, impaling myself on his cock. I want it to hurt, want to remember the sensation in my pussy for every minute of my eight-hour flight back to the States.
"Can you come like this?" he rasps.
"Fuck, yes," I purr, grinding into him. Sometimes I can't come from penetration alone, but something about our cramped position — with me on top and my legs bent at a weird angle to avoid the door handle and the parking brake — means my clit is getting extra friction.
"Then do it. Come on my cock. Now."
I ride and grind, and he slides his hand to my throat. He doesn't need to squeeze hard at all, because he knows just the gesture is enough to get me off. I rub against him until the ache detonates, and I scream his name as I come.
He lets go of my throat and digs his fingers into my ass. I feel his cock pulsing, pumping, and I feel him coating the walls of my pussy with his cum.
"You feel that, Kate? You feel me inside you?"
"Yes," I whisper, collapsing into him as he groans into my neck. We're both sweating and my pussy milks his cock as my orgasm continues to reverberate through me.
"That's for you. All for you. Only for you."
We sit there, panting in each other's arms, for a good five minutes.
"We really should go." I sigh. "I don't want to, though."
"If I could stay like this for the next six months, I would."
"That would be awkward, with us fused at the genitals in a rental car. But I'd be willing to give it a try," I joke.
We both laugh, softly, sadly, as I catapult myself back into the passenger seat. I adjust my panties and skirt and notice that he's staring at me.
"What?"
He grins. "Nothing. Just soaking in your beauty while I can."
I turn to him and touch his face, my fingers stroking his dark beard. His whiskey-colored eyes are soft and vulnerable, like they always are after sex.
"Make this six months go by fast, okay? I need you home with me. I need my husband."
He kisses my palm. "You got it, Mrs. Hastings."
