“Y-yes,” I moan. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it’s just a natural byproduct of being around Emanuel, but I am already feeling the moistness of my arousal soaking the seat of my panties.
“Is she hot?”
I nod.
“Uh, uh, butterfly. Words. Use that pretty little mouth of yours. Is she hot?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Play with your clit for me.”
Again, I do as instructed because I need the release.
“Not so fast, slow down. That’s it, small circles. Now move down to that tight hole of yours.”
My eyes drift shut as I let the sound of his voice be the beacon that summons me to my orgasm. Doing as he tells me, I insert my pointer finger into my wet canal. I moan but then bite down on my lower lip, cutting the sound off.
“What the hell was that?” his demanding voice booms.
I turn in his direction. “Wh-What?”
“Don’t you dare try to hold back from me. I want to hear every moan, every squeal, every sound that beautiful mouth and body of yours makes when you’re enjoying yourself.” For good measure, he reaches over with his right hand, taking my chin in between the grasp of his thumb and forefinger, pulling it so that my lower lip pops out from between my teeth. “Let me hear it, butterfly,” he growls.
I am literally dripping into my hand from the words that’ve just spilled from his mouth. I swallow, trying to get rid of the dryness in my throat, and uncertainty weighing my chest down. I hate to admit it even to myself, but I do hold back during sex. My ex hated when I got too loud. He said real ladies didn’t moan loudly, or curse during sex. After ten years together, I changed so much for him.
“Fuck him,” Emanuel growls, firmly holding my face by the chin. “Look at me. You’re with me now. Let me hear you.”
I stare at those golden eyes of his as he briefly takes his eyes off the road ahead and pins me with his powerful gaze. I am drawn back to that night we shared in Mexico. The night I wanted to let all of my inhibitions go but was still too afraid. In this moment, I decide to let go of that fear.
Lifting my hips up, I begin working my body with one and then two fingers, also using my thumb to run circles around my clit just the way Emanuel had that night. A moan breaks free, and instead of cutting it off, I let it rise all the way from my belly and flow out of my lips without apprehension. I can barely catch my next breath before another groan escapes.
“Shit!” I curse when I feel the engine of the car revving up, and we suddenly pick up speed.
I glance from Emanuel to the speedometer. We’re going ninety miles an hour and gaining speed. Fear seizes my body for all of a heartbeat before I look to Emanuel, whose face is totally relaxed and in control as his gaze moves between me and the windshield. The only time tension arises in his body is when his eyes roll over my body to see my stilled hand.
“Keep going.”
I don’t hesitate at his command. I begin working my body, strumming it like a guitar. My hips rise and fall from the seats, begging for more.
Emanuel rolls the windows down a few inches to let the night air inside of the car.
I gasp as the sensations from the rushing wind, the pressure from my fingers, and the knowledge of Emanuel’s eyes on me as I work myself over become too much. Tossing my head back against the seat, I squeeze my eyes shut and let the orgasm have its way with my body.
I don’t recall screaming or making any sounds with my mouth, but when I finally come back to myself, my throat is raw.
Not only that, but we’ve finally come to a stop. We’re somewhere on a long stretch of road, surrounded by woods on either side. I have no idea where, and it is the dead of night so very few cars are around. I’m not given much time to analyze the situation when Emanuel throws the car in park.
“I need to taste you,” he growls.
He pushes his seat back and it takes some maneuvering, but somehow I find my head laying on the lowered window sill, halfway out of the car, while my body is now fully turned toward Emanuel in the driver’s set. My legs are over his shoulders as he buries his head in between my thighs. He first uses his tongue to lap at the soft skin of my inner thighs. I begin panting in anticipation of another orgasm, and he hasn’t even touched my pussy yet.
By the time he does finally reach my outer lips, I’m already calling his name. It sounds so perfect spilling from my mouth that I continue saying it almost as if on a chant. Emanuel is not immune to hearing his name being moaned from my lips, either. He rolls his tongue against my clit, massaging and tickling it, sending tingles throughout my body. His hands move underneath my thighs until my ass is fully clasped in them. He squeezes and pulls the flesh of my skin, bringing me closer to his mouth. I swear he is trying to consume me from the outside in.
I am so overcome by the feeling flowing through me and the warmth of his tongue and mouth that the awkwardness of my positioning barely registers with me. I have but a passing awareness of my head against the hard metal door frame. The only thing that matters is that my second orgasm is being wrung out from my body.
Letting my head flop backwards, all of the way outside of the window, I yell out Emanuel’s name, loud enough to wake the dead.
It takes me a long time to catch my breath after that soul snatching orgasm. My vision is blurry, as I blink, staring around at the inside of Emanuel’s car, still trying to get my wits about me enough to remember where the hell I am. With my dress up around my waist and my panties … gone, I should be embarrassed. Or ashamed.
