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ONE
“You should really be fucking me right now,” Abi said, her throat dry from the too-sweet mixed drinks and anticipation. Part of her knew she should apologize for engaging the teacher tone she used when talking to toddlers, but the rest of her figured it worked for both of them. The man looked up at her through eyes heavy-lidded with desire as she straddled him.
At least she hoped it was desire.
She would also settle for it being awe at her ability to contort above him in the small space of the car.
“I have every intention of fucking you,” he said, and there was amusement in his tone.She decided not to overthink it too much as he continued, “But strictly speaking—you’re the one about to ride me.”
“Well. That’s-” she floundered, she wasn’t anything close to drunk, but this piece of information left her feeling like she should try to walk a straight line or at least do something to prove herself. His fingers moved under the fabric of the skirt that pooled in her lap, and she bit her lip. His knuckle was very close to her clit. She could feel his erection through his jeans and suddenly it was very important to get it free.
“For the record, this wasn’t what I expected when I suggested we go outside,” he said, his breath catching in his throat when she jerked his belt buckle open.
“I know, me neither,” she said, panting herself because his fingers knew what they were doing and ohfuckthat felt good. She leaned into him and his hips canted upward, pressing the hard ridge of his erection and his jeans against her most sensitive places. Abi’s fingers fisted in his tee shirt.
“Do you even remember what we were arguing about?” His other hand, the hand not intent on driving her crazy, was working its way under her shirt and cupping her breast. Abi covered it with her own, leaning into his denim-covered dick and letting the moan fall where it wanted.
“I don’t think it matters,” she said. His hand left her pussy, fingers going to his jeans and she helped him, both of her hands working to unzip and unbutton and then she had to sit up enough so that he could work the jeans down his hips, and he was free and so close to her that she just wanted—
“Wait,” he said, sitting up a bit, struggling beneath her.
Abi glared, she was almost home free and he was ruining the moment. Again.
“You don’t really want to stop so we can figure out who’s right about who sang the original My Way, do you?”
“They’re called ‘standards’ for a reason. Sinatra may have made it his own, but plenty of other people sang it too,” he said.
For a moment, she couldn’t remember his name—she knew it, she grew up with the guy practically. But in thathey that person is a few classes ahead of me in Hebrew Schoolway, not in thewe’ve known each other so long we’re the same soulway—and that seemed somewhat more important than knowing the name of the My Way singer.
“This is what you want to talk about right now,” Abi said, her fingers circled his dick, and he swallowed hard. Then redoubled his efforts to—she wasn’t sure what he was doing actually. “Ilan.”
That was his name: Ilan.
“Reach around for my wallet,” he said, “I can’t get it.”
“What the hell do you need—”
“Condom,” he panted, almost fully sitting up now.
“Oh,” Abi said, feeling a little less irritated, and also relieved. She hadn’t even thought about that. She reached behind her, finding the bulge in the pocket of the jeans and wriggling it free. Eventually turning in his lap because it wasn’t something she was able to do by feeling alone.
It was difficult to see in the car, but she didn’t want to reach above them to turn on the cabin light. Something about that would ruin the mood, she was sure. She handed him the soft leather wallet, and he produced a foil-wrapped condom, flinging the wallet forgotten into the driver’s seat. Abi felt sure this was a moment she should say something clever, but words escaped her. They were really doing this.
She was really going to fuck this man in her car in the parking lot of a bar.
At least it wasn’t the bar where she met her best friend and her sister every Sunday for brunch?
She almost snorted.
“A little help?” Ilan said, and she realized he was having difficulty with the packet.
“Let me see,” she said, weirdly pleased he hadn’t opened it with his teeth. She used her nails to slit the package open, finding pleasure in the way his breath hissed from between his teeth as she fit the condom over his dick, rolling it into place. He fell back against the seat, his fingers curling around her hips. Abi bit her lip, considering him. She moved her skirts aside, her fingernails scratching lightly up his bare belly.
“Fuck, Abi,” he said, his fingers digging into her hips. He clenched his jaw on whatever he was going to say next, and she took pity on him, sliding her body back into position. She pressed her sex against his dick, pressing it against his belly, and he groaned his hands urging her. Abi grinned, feeling her power in the moment. Her knee dug into the car seat, catching the plastic bit where the seatbelt engaged, and she cursed. He tried to help, grabbing his dick and moving to fit it inside her.
Abi’s hands swatted at him, batting his hands away.
“I thought you told me I should be fucking you,” he said, moving his hands to grasp the bars of the headrest behind his neck.
