Page 17 of Car Wash
I cry out, the sound ripped from my throat as heat coils low in my belly. My toes curl against the hood of the car. My heart pounds. My pussy clenches, aching, already wet and wanting.Every suck, every flick of his tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through me, white-hot and unstoppable.
I can feel myself melting. Sticky with sugar, trembling with need. And he hasn’t even really started yet. He yanks my zipper down in one hard pull and strips my shorts off like they offended him, tossing them aside like they don’t matter. The last thing separating him from my pussy is the thin lace thong that’s now so wet and sticky I don’t know what he’s going to think when he takes it off.
My heart is pounding hard as he looks down at me. He puts one hand on the car, his thick fingers pressing against the sleek red metal.
His lips are close to mine as he crowds me against the hood. He swipes his thumb across my covered clit. I can feel it everywhere. Thick heat shoots through me until I feel completely filled with need.
“This is mine.” He pulls the material aside and brushes his thumb lightly against my clit. He wiggles it up and down, so slowly, teasing me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes. It’s yours.”
He takes his hand away and kisses my lips, then moves down my body, making me tense up with every inch he goes lower. His tongue slides against my nipples, still sticky and wet from the strawberry shake. He runs a hand down the sensitive underside of my breast, teasing the other one with his tongue.
My breathing is shallow as he goes lower, kissing the swell of my stomach like I’m shaped perfectly for him.
His tongue finds my clit and I nearly black out. It’s not slow. It’s not sweet. It’s raw and messy and so fucking good. He drags it over my slick folds until I’m shaking. He sucks my clit hard, then teases it with soft flicks that make me lose my mind.
“Oh my god,” I moan. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. Not even close. He groans into me like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can fix it. The pressure inside me is about to boil over. He spreads my lips apart and sucks on my clit until I’m seeing stars. He pushes me up and slides a finger down below my dripping pussy, nestling it there.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh fuck, what are you doing to me!”
When his fingers slide inside me—one, then two—I break. I have my hands on the back of his head, fingers threaded through his hair, gliding, smooth but giddy, as my back gives one final arch into him, his fingers curling, curling, curling in a come-hither motion, hitting something mythical. My thighs shake as I ride his mouth, the cool metal under me and his beard scraping my inner thighs just enough to tip me over.
I’m gone. Moaning his name. Grinding into his face as he fucks me with his fingers and licks up every drop I give him.
When I finally come down—heart pounding, breath ragged, body wrecked—he’s still between my thighs, mouth slick, eyes dark with something that looks a hell of a lot like possession.
He moves his mouth up my body, licking and nipping at my skin before he finally reaches my lips. His tongue plunges into my mouth, tasting me like I am the sweetest thing he’s ever had.
“Inside,” he says roughly, reaching for my hand. “Now.”
His voice is wrecked. His hands are shaking. My knees are trembling. It’s unreal. I feel like a new person. Like my whole world has tipped on its ear.
“I think I still have some whipped cream on me,” I say, breathless but teasing.
He grins—slow and filthy.
“I’ll help you find it.”
Chapter Nine
John
I keepone hand on her the whole walk inside, needing the contact like air. She’s soft and warm under my palm, and I feel her pulse hammering just under her skin. The door swings shut behind us, and the familiar scent of cedar and leather hits me—my place has never smelled like this. Like sugar and skin and sex waiting to happen.
She looks like she belongs here.
Like something wild I dreamed up and conjured into the middle of my house.
She turns her head, smiling up at me with flushed cheeks and sticky skin. “I’m dripping milkshake all over your floors.”
“Good,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
I lead her down the hallway toward the bathroom—my steps unsteady, my blood thick and hot. She’s too close. I’m too hard. I feel like a fucking live wire.
The bathroom’s all soft light and glass—spacious, polished, clean. But the moment she walks in, it’s no longer just a bathroom. It’s a shrine. A stage. I want to lay her out on every surface and make her mine in every way.
