Page 100 of That Moment
A shiver runs through me so hard I can barely breathe. I lick my lips, nodding, the words spilling out so breathlessly I sound like I’m begging. “Yes… please.”
His mouth curves in that lazy, devastating smile. “Then go on.”
Chapter 18
Scotty
Ilean against the Mustang’s fender and forget how to breathe.
Adrienne is on her knees between my boots, palms braced on my thighs, her mouth hot and wet and wicked as sin. She looks up at me, those mischievous eyes turning molten as she sinks down again and takes me deep.
“Yeah,” I rasp, fingers fisting in her hair. “That’s it, baby… look at you, taking me so fucking deep.”
She hums around me like she’s pleased with my comments. It vibrates straight through my spine. My head kicks back against the quarter panel, and a raw sound rips out of me. The big bay door is rolled halfway for air, late afternoon sun casting beams across the floor.
“Goddamn, you suck my cock better than anyone,” I grit the words out, so close now. She likes to be praised, likes to hear how good she is, making me lose my fucking mind. She likes the control, and I like to give it to her. I look back down, her eyes locked on mine.
Christ, I’m gone.
I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone, and she sucks me harder. She leans into it, lips stretched as wide as possible toaccommodate me, eyes locked on mine like she wants to see me come apart.
“Good girl,” I grind out. “Don’t stop.”
She doesn’t. She takes me deeper, slow and filthy, tongue working me like she wants to write her name on my skin with every pass. My thighs tense. My hands guide her, gentle and possessive, and she lets me, nails digging into denim as she gags. “Easy,” I murmur, pulling back so she can relax her jaw, “yeah, just like that.”
I have said a lot of stupid things in this garage over the years, but right now, every word that comes out is the truth.
“Adrienne, baby.”
Her mouth seals tighter. She slides back, drags her tongue along the underside, then swallows me again until she takes me deeper than she has yet, deeper than I thought she even could. My vision whites out at the edges. The Mustang’s chrome mirror reflects back a version of me I don’t recognize. I’m completely lost in the moment, mouth open, hat shoved back, one hand wrapped in Adrienne’s hair, the other braced against the fender like I need the car to hold me up.
Mine. Forever.
The thought is dangerous and fast. It licks across my ribs and leaves everything scorched.
She pulls off just enough to breathe, eyes watery, my pre-cum on her lips, and smiles up at me. “You like watching me do this, Bescher?” She grabs my cock with both hands, drags her tongue up in one painfully slow and agonizing stroke while maintaining eye contact. “You like watching me suck your cock like a slut don’t you?”
“Holy fucking shiiiiiit.” I groan, hips twitching despite how hard I’m trying to behave. “I like watching you do anything, Barbie. But this… this is gonna be the last memory I recall when I’m on my deathbed.”
She laughs, low and dirty, then sucks me back in like she wants to prove a point. I am seconds from losing it. My stomach tightens. My hand slides to the back of her neck, not pushing, just there, my thumb stroking the soft skin where her pulse flutters wildly against my palm.
“Open for me,” I manage, my throat raw. “Take what I give you.”
She does, eyes fluttering, lashes dark against her cheeks. The world narrows to wet heat and the way her throat works for me. I can feel it building, that sharp pull at the base of my spine, my balls so tight they’re ready to explode, and I warn her on a breath that comes out in one long gasp.
“Baby, I’m right there. You keep going, I’m gonna?—”
Tires crunch over gravel outside. The sound is slicing through the lustful haze that’s burning at the edges of my eyes.
Every muscle in me locks. My head snaps toward the light slanting under the half-open bay door, my adrenaline spiking. A vehicle door thunks. Footsteps.
“Stop,” I hiss in a panic, tugging her gently off me as my heart slams into my throat. “Someone’s coming.”
She freezes, eyes going wide. She swipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, cheeks flushed, a streak of mascara beneath her left eye. A small, breathless laugh trips out of her like she can’t help herself, like the situation is insane and a little bit hysterical.
Boots scrape just beyond the bay. A shadow breaks the light. My zipper is still open. My brain finally lurches into gear.
Move, idiot!
