I giggle nervously. “I don’t know. Maybe he… reels me in.”
His head shakes at the terrible pun, but his hand slides higher, tracing the line of the waders until he reaches where the suspenders bunch at my waist. I think he’s going to fix them. Instead, his fingers slip inside, under the rubber, then lower still, beneath cotton.
I gasp, thighs parting before my brain catches up. “What… what are you doing?”
His mouth curves, eyes still locked on the road. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Patrick,” I whisper, the word strangled, as his fingers stroke down into the heat between my thighs.
“I told you I can multitask,” he growls, thumb flicking over my clit in a way that rips a helpless jerk out of my hips.
The contrast is dizzying. The Land Rover thunders over gravel, his right hand steady on the wheel, while his left is buried in my underwear.
My brain is in chaos. Half of me is shrieking about road safety, about how this is wildly irresponsible. The other halfis practically clawing at his wrist, desperate to force his hand deeper.
Whoam Iright now? I don’t do casual outdoor sexual activities.
“We can’t,” I gasp, my hand flying to his wrist. “What if someone—”
“No-one can see.” He cuts me off, eyes still ahead, calm as anything. “And even if there was… I’d still have you open for me.”
The casual way he says it—like I’m a certainty, not a choice—should make me furious. Instead it makes me melt.
A broken sound escapes as his finger circles my clit. “Patrick—oh, God—”
“That’s it,” he murmurs. He glances sideways, just for a second, to catch my face. His jaw flexes at whatever he sees there—me panting, already clenching around nothing, my lip between my teeth.
He pushes two fingers inside me, stretching me. My head thumps back against the seat as a moan slips out.
“Tell me about this fisherman fantasy,” he orders.
“I—” My breath hitches as his fingers slide in and out of me. “I don’t know—I just—”
“Say it.”
The Land Rover jolts over a pothole and his fingers slam deeper inside me.
Holy actualshit.
Thank God he’s only doing twenty miles an hour. Any faster and I’d be plastered against the windscreen in the world’s least dignified orgasm.
“I…” My breath splinters as his hand returns to my clit. “He’s rough, he takes me wherever he wants to. He’s too strong to fight off. I’d have no choice but to… to give in. To let him.”
He chuckles darkly. “You’re fucking right he does.”
The car jolts over another rut and I squeal, the sound bursting out of me as the sharp edge of pleasure slices through again.
His other hand tightens on the wheel, keeping us steady while I’m actively falling apart in the passenger seat like a woman possessed.
I grab his forearm with both hands, nails probably leaving tiny messages in his skin. “I can’t, Patrick, I can’t. I’m going to. Oh God.”
The car slows to a crawl at a red light.
Ared light.
With people outside.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, my eyes flying open in pure horror. “Patrick, there’s a person.” My voice shoots up three octaves. “There’s a person walking past—ahhhhhh—”
