Page 11 of Jaz
He slid across the hood of the car in his best Bo Duke imitation and was behind the steering wheel within seconds. He slid the key home in the ignition at the same time he leaned over in Mandi’s direction. “Kiss me.”
And dear God did she. She ravished his mouth with the most blatant kiss, holding nothing back. She had sex with him through it. Her tongue thrusting, her lips devouring. The scent of her arousal filled the car, and his hand found its way between her legs.
She raised up to his touch, but didn’t stop kissing him. Instead, she filled his mouth with moans and whimpers and pleas. Her hips pumped into his hand as he explored the folds of her pussy. She opened for him, invited him in.
He cupped her and his middle finger slid with ease between her ass cheeks she was so wet. Pulling back from the kiss, she opened her eyes, gripped his wrist, and held his hand against her.
“Make me come again, Jaz.”
She breathed the words while her other hand grabbed the front of his shirt.
“We’re still in the parking lot, baby. You sure?”
“I’m sure. I don’t care. You say things that turn me on so much I can’t think straight, can’t want anything but to come apart with you. I don’t care, I … Please …”
As she talked, she kept up the motion of her hips. He felt her bear down, press against the pads of his fingers. She shuddered and whimpered, but never lost eye contact with him. He kept watching her eyes, her face, but his peripheral vision was sharp. Only a few people walking through the small lot had given a cursory glance their way.
Her hand on his wrist tightened. “Hold your fingers still. Let me …”
He did as she wanted, and it was the best hand job he’d ever received. It wasn’t her hand on his dick but it was still a hand job. His hand, her pussy, and the job of making her come.
She masturbated herself on his fingers and her own. She guided his hand where she wanted it, when she wanted different pressure in a different place. Through the soaking wet lips, inside her tight cunt, and on her hot, hard clit, she used his whole hand to get off.
“Jaz …”
“I’m here, baby. Let go. I’m right here …” And he was. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.
She pushed into his fingers. She moaned and bucked and worked one of her fingers under his, rubbing for all she was worth.
“Put your fingers inside me. Fuck me with them.”
He’d had no damn idea she was this kind of woman. So open and scorching in her sexuality.
Jaz dropped two digits inside her, and before he’d thrust them three times, she came, dripping juice. Down his palm, his wrist, and likely to the seat below.
She didn’t scream or yell. She squealed a little, moaned, and the groan that left her throat was like that of a wild animal. In pain or in heat, he couldn’t tell, but the muscles that squeezed and pulsed and caged him inside her channel …
Then, through the last stages of her orgasm she kissed him. As hot as before, but softer, more intense.
“Damn, woman,” he whispered against her lips, flexing his fingers inside her.
“Damn, man,” she whispered back, pushing against his hand.
“Damn straight.”
