“Ready?”
“So fucking ready,” he murmurs, before pulling his hand away.
Within a few grinding seconds of the clutch and a wince on my part, we’re off.
Sean guides me through the first few minutes, his voice gentle and assuring as he helps me navigate my way through the winding roads. Once we’re safely away from sharp turns, I give it some gas, and he gives me a few more pointers, while I memorize the clutch pattern.
“You’ve got it.”
“Not quite.”
“No,” he says, running a hand down my shoulder. “You’ve got it. Open it up.” I shiver under his touch and glance over at him catching his wink in the dim cabin.
Music thrums low through the speakers and Sean lifts from where he sits, turning the dial on the dash. “Good one,” is all he says as he cuts all communication letting me know the lesson is over and I’m on my own.
The Black Crowes begin to bellow, “She Talks to Angels,” as I’m granted my freedom, and I take it, anxious for the high. Between the music and steady buzz of the car, my whole body erupts in goosebumps. I can feel the smile on my face as the wind whips through my hair.
We’re flying, my heart soaring as I switch gears, surprising myself with the ease in the transition before I hammer the gas.
Sean doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move next to me, his trust mine as I begin to sing along with the lyrics, with him. I’m somewhere between screaming and singing when his fingers push away the thick hair at the nape of my neck and stroke down my arm. Senses heightened, my body sighs into his caress. He covers my neck, my arm, and slides his hand down to where his hand covers mine on the gearshift before drifting back up, and then he strokes my chin with his knuckle. My pulse skips when he slides the spaghetti strap of my sundress down, his fingertips ghosting over my skin.
My lips part at the touch, as I begin to slow and peek over at him. One second passes, then another, before I’m turning onto one of a dozen deserted roads and shoving the gear into neutral and pulling the brake. We sit there, feet apart, his fingers stroking, coaxing me into a frenzy as I wait.
“Look at you,” his voice needy and urgent.
“Sean,” I moan hoarsely, already soaked as his fingers draw me further under his spell.
Hesitation coils off him, and I can clearly feel it as he toys with me, leaving me wanton and on the verge of snapping.
The tension builds along with the heartbeat at my core as my eyes implore him to do precisely what he’s thinking. I see the decision in his eyes a second before he says, “Fuck it.” In the next, I’m in his arms for a breath before we collide. His kiss is anything but gentle as he pushes his tongue past my lips and wholly explores my mouth with deep thrusts. It’s as if every look, every touch, every subtle exchange has led us up to this moment. Rightfully starved, I allow my hands to roam, gripping the T-shirt at his biceps as he pulls me flush to him, and I lift my leg and straddle him, wanting to get closer, the rush of adrenaline clashing with insatiable need. We kiss and kiss, alone in the car on a nameless road, hearts hammering, our fast breaths mingling as he hikes my dress up to my hip and I grind on his lap, licking into his mouth, tracing his piercing with my tongue.
“Fuck,” he grits out on a breath between kisses. He flicks the other spaghetti strap of my dress down a second before he yanks the material freeing my breasts, my pebbled nipples drawing tight, the ache unrelenting. He cups each in his calloused hands, his kiss deepening to level insane as my clit pulses, begging. I grip his hand and move it to my thigh beneath my skirt and feel only a second’s worth of hesitation before he knuckles the silk and lace fabric between. He dips into the elastic, shoving my panties to the side and I gasp into his mouth as he roughly shoves two fingers inside me. My moan fuels him as he twists his fingers, fucking me roughly with them.
“Sean,” I gasp out, hooking my arm around his neck to ride his hand. Reaching down, I palm and squeeze his erection and feel his groan as he pushes me back against the dash, ripping my arm from around him. He rests me on his knees as I set my elbows on the dash, just watching him. Dress still hoisted around my hips, he grips the flimsy triangle of material between my thighs and rips the crotch away. Eager, I move in to release him, but he swats my hand, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock before pumping it in his fist. My mouth waters at the sight of it, the sight of him coming undone.
He lifts, pulling out his wallet and plucking a condom from it before he hands it to me. I rip it open and grip his silky skin in my hand, pumping him from base to oozing tip before I roll the latex onto him. Once fitted, he runs a finger between my folds, playing with the gathered wetness at my core. A cool breeze drifts through the car as he grips my head with his palm and pulls me in for a kiss, a second before pushing me onto my back, twisting to settle between my legs and driving into me until he’s buried. I quake at the feel of him as he thrusts into me mercilessly. The slapping sound fueling me, I lift my hips to meet his. He grips my hair with his fist as he drives into me and I moan at the sting and the reward of his fucking. Lifting his T-shirt, I run my hands over his muscled chest as he gazes down at me, his eyes lava, his heart pounding against my palm.