Page 93 of Only Fate

Belongs herewith me.

Before we even left the party, I knew I wanted this to happen tonight.

I turn down the radio, unbuckle my seat belt, and situate myself on my knees, facing him. The only light source shines from the dashboard and radio lights.

He shifts, focusing his soothing eyes on mine the best he can in the dark.

Thrill charges through my body when I reach over the console and unzip his pants.

“Holy shit,” Adrian hisses, his hips bucking forward.

I grin, feeling seductive for the first time in my life.

The multiple glasses of rosé I consumed are also helping to create this Openly Sexual Essie.

“Shh,” I whisper, running my finger along the outline of his cock, which is growing harder by the second. It jerks under my palm, and I peer up at him, grinning.

Getting the hint, he presses the button to recline his seat.

He waits to see where I’m going with this.

I roll my hair tie on my wrist down my hand and secure my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head. His body tenses when I touch him again, running my hand over his cock.

“Help me take it out,” I say softly.

He nods, lifting his hips to lower his pants until they’re down his waist. Grabbing my hand, he uses it to pull his cock free. My heart drums in my chest when he opens my palm, spits in it, and guides it to his erection.

He’s throbbing, his cock jerking under my hold.

As I stroke him, his head lolls back.

He slips down the seat farther, giving me a better angle, and I rise higher on my knees. He thrusts his hips forward as I jerk him off. His groans fill the car, but they grow more frantic when I lower my head and lick the head of his cock.

I suck gently before slowly pulling back.

Slobber falls from my mouth onto his cock.

I fight with myself on whether to tell him I’ve never done this before.

I mean, it could give me a decent excuse if I give him a sucky blow job.

Jesus, Essie. Get out of your head.

It’s a blow job.

It’s not like I need a damn degree to know the basics of sucking cock.

Mia once told me that men don’t care about the quality of the blow job most of the time. All that’s on their mind is that there’s a mouth on their cock.

“Please, Essie,” he begs, his voice strained, “keep going.”

His plea is all the encouragement that I need.

I lick my lips before taking his entire length in my mouth. He’s so large that the tip rams against the back of my throat.

Don’t gag.

Don’t gag.

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