She arches deep, legs partin’, skirt fisted high over her hips as she sways her ass from side to side. “Yeah, baby… just like that. C’mon, you know you been wantin’ this bad.”
He grabs her cunt from behind, fingers slidin’ through the mess he made, partin’ her folds, missin’ it already.
She hears his buckle unclip, the pop of the button, the zipper draggin’ down, and her knees go weak. Then his fingers thrust back inside her—two, no,three—fillin’ her up, stretchin’ her so wide she gasps.
“Gimme your cock,” she whimpers, rockin’ back on his hand as she soaks it, her slick drippin’ down his knuckles as he fucks her with his fingers. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Minutes pass. Maybe two. Maybe forever. She don’t count.
He’s too quiet. Until he’s liftin’ her leg high, settin’ her boot right on the bumper. Then her shirt’s goin’ up, bra too. Lifted clean over her head, tits spillin’ out, nipples hard in the night air.
He pushes her down, her next breath catchin’ in her throat, her bare chest hittin’ cold metal, nipples pebblin’.
And his thick cock nudges her entrance before sinkin' in.
One stroke, deep. All the way.
She gasps, eyes poppin' open, liftin’ up, back archin’, smile wild on her lips. “Ohh, f—fuck, baby,” she pants. “You feel so perfect.”
But he’s forcin’ her back down again, pressin’ her into the trunk, cockin’ her ass back, tiltin’ her cunt up, buryin’ deeper. No time to breathe. Wet, stretched, full, her moan rips outta her throat—loud, needy, soakin’ the air around ‘em.
He locks one hand on her hip, the other dips to her clit, grindin’ circles as he fucks her mad, fucks her furious. Everythrust yanks a cry right outta her throat, forehead pressed to the Civic, tits draggin’ across steel.
“God, baby, fuck—keep goin’, fuck me filthy?—”
She’s starin’ at the night sky thinkin’ she was right about them as he drives his cock into her again and again, sinkin’ so deep she feels him in hermouth.
Every moan slips out sloppy, her spit stringin’ across the red paint.
But she don’t care. Because Andrew Harding is inside her.
Every stroke lands heavy, heat splashin’ down her thighs.
“God, Harding, you fuck me so good, swear I wasmadefor this—made foryou.” But the sound of their skin’s louder, hips smackin’, cock draggin’ slick outta her with every thrust ‘cause she belongs on his dick. And she always did.
“Shit—fuck—I’m comin’,” she cries, and hestays.
Deep. Unmovin’. Fingers rubbin’ filth-slick circles right over her clit.
Her moans break into a cry. Her legs shake. Her tits scrape metal. Her knees slam against the bumper. She comes so hard it’s drippin’ off him while his fingers still stroke her clit, slick with her mess ‘cause he don’t wanna leave. She justknowsit.
And she’s sighin’. “You love me. I know you do.”
When he slides out, she melts—arms stretched wide across his trunk, cheek to the metal, breath foggin’ up the paint. Cunt raw. Legs limp. Arms danglin’ after he fucked her outta her body.
She hears him behind her—buckle clinkin’, zipper hummin’, the little car beep.
Then the soft thunk of his back door openin’.
He reaches inside, pulls out a jacket.
Then he’s standin’ behind her again, wipin’ between her thighs.
Careful. Gentle.
Her breath hitches ‘cause nobody’s ever cleaned her up before.
“C’mere,” he says, handin’ her the bra.
