finger in and out, slow, and the noises she made nearly
did me in. The moans, the cries. She could come quick, I could tell,
but I wanted more. I was a selfish man when it came to giving. I
brought my other hand to her back.
“Lean back, baby,”
I murmured, guiding her. That giant parka was like a portable
bed—look, it did come in handy—and she rested back against the
steering wheel. Now I could see more, watch her splayed before me,
her naked breasts quivering and exposed. I couldn’t imagine
anything I wanted to see more than her losing herself in an orgasm.
But I wanted to watch it build, see it play out across her features,
tremor throughout her whole body.
With a hand at her
breast, I circled her soft mound, watching her feel it. With a
whimper of frustration, she brought her hand to my forearm, the one
down below. She was impatient. I chuckled, liking her like that. But
I was in charge.
“Bring your hands to
the steering wheel, right behind your head.” I said it gently,
coaxing, but I meant it. She was going to have to lean back and take
it if she wanted to get to the end of this ride. I wanted to take my
time with her, and she’d have to suffer through it. I guided her
hands up and back until they framed her perfect face. She panted, her
eyes open now, watching me.
I met her gaze, a small
smile playing at my lips as I trailed my hands back down along the
center of her body. Such a playground, the dip between her breasts,
the plane along her stomach, the valley below. Drinking in her every
reaction, I slid a finger in her again, grazing along her swollen,
sensitive clit. She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes, moaning
and turning her head to the side.
“Feel good, Violet?”
I couldn’t resist asking as I stroked her. She felt so good under
my hands, so small next to my size but so needy I knew she could take
me.
“Heath!” she cried
out, clutching the steering wheel behind her head, her nipples stiff
and exposed as she arched her back. I brought my other hand up to her
breasts and squeezed, stroked.
“I could play with
you like this all night,” I said, and I meant it. She surrounded me
in every possible way, the sight of her, her scent, her pants of
need, and touch the most intense of all. The way my fingers glided
along, how wet she was for me, how intensely her body responded to
and welcomed me.
She whimpered and
ground her pussy down on my fingers, showing me what she needed. I
could play with her all night, but she needed to come. Desperately.
“You need to come,
baby?” I asked her, circling her clit, palming her breast, watching
her face.
“Yes!” she cried
out, gripping the steering wheel, offering herself to me.
How could I say no to
that? With fierce possessiveness, I grasped her pebbled nipple
between my large, rough fingers and positioned my other hand at her
entrance.
“Come for me,
Violet.” I drove two fingers up into her, deep, stretching her
farther than I had before, while the large pad of my thumb found her
clit. She screamed, pushing into me, her body filled with ecstatic
tension as she began to come, her thighs squeezed, her hips bucking.
I pinched her nipple, hard, and her mouth opened into a perfect O as she came and came on my fingers, each shudder and wave of orgasm
rushing and crashing over her seeming more intense than the last.
Until she began to sink
down, her ass resting again against my lap, her hands loosening their
grip on the wheel behind her head. Her screams melted into moans and
she was able to bring her head straight again, opening her eyes to
look at me dazed and heavy-lidded. She looked amazed, like I might
actually be Superman here in the middle of Vermont. A crazy part of
me wanted to be exactly that for her.
“You’re so
beautiful,” I murmured as I took her into my arms, holding her to
me as the last sighs tremored through her body. She was more than
beautiful, and if I could come up with a new word, I would, but for
now I just held
did me in. The moans, the cries. She could come quick, I could tell,
but I wanted more. I was a selfish man when it came to giving. I
brought my other hand to her back.
“Lean back, baby,”
I murmured, guiding her. That giant parka was like a portable
bed—look, it did come in handy—and she rested back against the
steering wheel. Now I could see more, watch her splayed before me,
her naked breasts quivering and exposed. I couldn’t imagine
anything I wanted to see more than her losing herself in an orgasm.
But I wanted to watch it build, see it play out across her features,
tremor throughout her whole body.
With a hand at her
breast, I circled her soft mound, watching her feel it. With a
whimper of frustration, she brought her hand to my forearm, the one
down below. She was impatient. I chuckled, liking her like that. But
I was in charge.
“Bring your hands to
the steering wheel, right behind your head.” I said it gently,
coaxing, but I meant it. She was going to have to lean back and take
it if she wanted to get to the end of this ride. I wanted to take my
time with her, and she’d have to suffer through it. I guided her
hands up and back until they framed her perfect face. She panted, her
eyes open now, watching me.
I met her gaze, a small
smile playing at my lips as I trailed my hands back down along the
center of her body. Such a playground, the dip between her breasts,
the plane along her stomach, the valley below. Drinking in her every
reaction, I slid a finger in her again, grazing along her swollen,
sensitive clit. She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes, moaning
and turning her head to the side.
“Feel good, Violet?”
I couldn’t resist asking as I stroked her. She felt so good under
my hands, so small next to my size but so needy I knew she could take
me.
“Heath!” she cried
out, clutching the steering wheel behind her head, her nipples stiff
and exposed as she arched her back. I brought my other hand up to her
breasts and squeezed, stroked.
“I could play with
you like this all night,” I said, and I meant it. She surrounded me
in every possible way, the sight of her, her scent, her pants of
need, and touch the most intense of all. The way my fingers glided
along, how wet she was for me, how intensely her body responded to
and welcomed me.
She whimpered and
ground her pussy down on my fingers, showing me what she needed. I
could play with her all night, but she needed to come. Desperately.
“You need to come,
baby?” I asked her, circling her clit, palming her breast, watching
her face.
“Yes!” she cried
out, gripping the steering wheel, offering herself to me.
How could I say no to
that? With fierce possessiveness, I grasped her pebbled nipple
between my large, rough fingers and positioned my other hand at her
entrance.
“Come for me,
Violet.” I drove two fingers up into her, deep, stretching her
farther than I had before, while the large pad of my thumb found her
clit. She screamed, pushing into me, her body filled with ecstatic
tension as she began to come, her thighs squeezed, her hips bucking.
I pinched her nipple, hard, and her mouth opened into a perfect O as she came and came on my fingers, each shudder and wave of orgasm
rushing and crashing over her seeming more intense than the last.
Until she began to sink
down, her ass resting again against my lap, her hands loosening their
grip on the wheel behind her head. Her screams melted into moans and
she was able to bring her head straight again, opening her eyes to
look at me dazed and heavy-lidded. She looked amazed, like I might
actually be Superman here in the middle of Vermont. A crazy part of
me wanted to be exactly that for her.
“You’re so
beautiful,” I murmured as I took her into my arms, holding her to
me as the last sighs tremored through her body. She was more than
beautiful, and if I could come up with a new word, I would, but for
now I just held
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