Page 83 of Man Advantage

He whimpered softly. “You think I’m leaving the house around you without lube?”

I glanced at him, eyebrows up.

He dug in his pocket, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t hold up a small bottle. At first glance, I’d have thought it was hand sanitizer, but the logo caught the light and my breath hitched.

“Holy fuck…”

“So, about fucking me across the backseat?”

I shifted around, which didn’t make the hard-on any more comfortable. There were a few parking lots and backroads around here that I could get to in short order, but…

But I was driving a Land Rover. Not exactly inconspicuous like the battered old sedan we’d lost our virginities in. If someone saw us, and if they recognized my car…

Fuck. Not a good idea.

And we still had at least twenty minutes before we got home.

Time to improvise.

I licked my lips. Still keeping my gaze firmly on the road, I said, “Undo your pants. And belt.”

He stiffened for a second, but before I could say anything, his belt buckle jingled. I bit my lip. Jesus Christ.

Then he lifted himself off the seat a little and rucked his trousers down. Not far, but definitely far enough.

“Lube?” I rasped, offering my free hand.

The cool liquid touched my fingertips, and I breathed a string of curses. Should we chance it and just pull over right here on the freeway? Because that was tempting. So, so tempting.

But… no. Partly because it was in public, and partly because I wanted to be peeling Cam off the ceiling by the time we got home.

I reached across again and slid my hand between his thighs. He rutted against my fingers, spreading his legs wider. A harsh breath escaped his lips as I started teasing him with my slick fingertips, and the seat creaked as he arched and squirmed.

I was definitely out of breath now, and it was a struggle to keep my gaze fixed on the road as I wound him up. I drew slow, light circles that had his breath hitching and his hips pushing against my hand, and I wondered more than once if I was going to come in my damn pants before we got home.

“God, Trev…” He pressed back against the seat. “Fuck…”

“Oh, we’ll get there.” I circled a little faster with my fingers, and I reveled in his helpless moan as he arched off the seat. “I want to make you come first.”

He made a choked sound. Then he grabbed my wrist, but he didn’t pull my arm away. His grip was painfully tight, and he kept my hand firmly in place as I was teasing him, as if he were telling me“don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The sounds he made were unreal. Fuuuck. My only regret in that moment was that I couldn’t look at him. A stolen glance here and there, yes, but I had to focus on the road. I couldn’t stare at him and drink in the sight of him unraveling from my ministrations.

As I followed a ramp off the freeway, I asked, “Is that good?” I sounded like I was pleading. Probably because I was. “Tell me, baby. Tell me if you like it.”

The response was a soft whimper. His grip tightened on my wrist, and he ground out, “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” I panted. “That what you want?”

“Uh-huh. God.” He rubbed harder against my fingers. “Goddammit, as soon as we get home, I need your dick.”

All the air rushed out of me in a ragged exhalation. “You want to get fucked?”

“Hard,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “God, I want…” He trailed off into a breathy moan. “Trev…”

Fuck it. I didn’t want to be a danger on the road, and I also didn’t want to miss this. So… I pulled over.

We were into one of the winding dark roads leading toward Sewickley, and there was no one else around. With my hazards lighting up the night all around us, I turned to him. He had his head pressed back against the seat, his back arching and his lips parted as he pushed out a ragged breath. He was a wreck, and I was doing this to him, and I could not possibly get any more turned on.

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