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She enters the address on my phone, and I place it on the dashboard.
As I pull out of the garage and start driving, Kat can’t keep her mouth shut like usual. Not that it bothers me; I love listening to her. “Have you. . .”
I wait for her to finish, but she doesn’t say anything else. “Have I what?” I say leaving the property.
“Have you, you know. . .”
“Kat, I have no clue what you’re getting at.”
“Ugh,” she groans loudly. “Sometimes I forget how old you guys are and that’s why you don’t understandwhat I’m getting at.”
“Hey, we’re not that old.” I look at her and she lifts a brow. “Okay maybe older than you, but by our standards, we’re still pretty young.”
“Fine whatever.” She waves a hand. “Have you fucked in this car?” I nearly stomp the brakes from shock, but I recover quickly.
“Why would you ask that, little brat? Would you be jealous if I had let someone defile my precious car?” she folds her hands and avoids contact with me, opting to stare straight ahead.
The tension is there in her shoulders. We drive onto the freeway and start our three-hour drive. I let her stew for a couple of seconds because I like seeing this jealousy in her. Knowing that she reciprocates these possessive feelings for me is everything.
“The answer to that, brat, is no. I haven’t fucked anyone in this car.” The corners of her lips twitch.
“Good, it would suck if I had to track down that bitch and claim my man.” I’m stunned by her words. Is my little brat wild just like me?
She talks through the whole ride. She’s a talker just like Benji, but I’d rather hear her voice than Benji’s any day. Benji just talks about shit I don’t care to hear, but with Kat, anything she says sounds really important to me.
She’s quiet for a couple minutes as if she’s contemplating something. “There’s something about classic cars that makes me so horny, Az.” I tighten my hands on the steering wheel. She brings her hands down to her lap and starts rubbing her thighs. “I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’ve always dreamed of getting fucked in one.”
I clear my throat. “Little brat, what are you doing? You’re playing a dangerous game.” My voice is hoarse and full of need. I’ve had her once, and I want to taste her again. She’s the perfect drug, so addicting and alluring.
She pulls her tits out from her V shirt and starts to play with her nipples. My cock is hard and getting nearly uncomfortable sitting in this position.
“Sir,” she moans. I turn to look at her briefly, and she bites her lip. Fuck, she’s going to be the end of me. “Can we fuck?”
My breathing quickens and she takes off her seatbelt. “Little brat, put your seatbelt back on,” I tell her sternly.
But she doesn’t listen and crawls across the leather bench seat to the driver’s side.
She unbuttons my pants, pulls the zipper down, and slowly pulls out my hard dick. I glance down from the road just a moment to see her warm tongue shooting out and grazing my piercing. All I want to do is close my eyes, but I keep my focus on the road ahead.
I move my hips forward, giving her more access, and she greedily takes it in her mouth. “Fuck little brat what are you doing to me?” I growl.
It’s getting harder to concentrate on the road. The next exit I’m getting the fuck out of here.
With one hand on the wheel, I use the other one to push her head further down my cock. I grab her hair, using it to push and pull. She chokes on it but keeps lapping every inch of me.
After taking the next exit, I find an alleyway and park. “So, you want to play?” I say darkly as I yank her violet strands and bring her face close to mine. “Then we’ll play,” I tell her as I drag her out of the car, still fisting her hair.
Chapter ten
Kat
Imayhavetakenon more than I can chew.
Az’s eyes look darker somehow. I’m not afraid. . . Well, maybe I’m just a little afraid. When it comes to Az everything is unexpected.
“Alright little brat, strip for me.” My jaw drops to the floor, and I look around the building on both sides knowing that anyone can just walk by.
“Az, right here?” I ask, surely he doesn’t want me naked out in the open where people can see us.
