I stroke myself harder and faster, and she licks on her ice cream as her fingers move under her skirt, and I’m dying.
I am going straight to hell for this, but I don’t care.
We speed past the cidery, then hit the road for my place.
Her pants are growing harsher, my cock is growing harder, and we’re both seconds away from making a complete mess in my truck.
I hit the brakes as I pull into my designated parking spot, jerk off my seat belt, then reach over the console for her.
She comes to me willingly, her mouth fusing with mine, her ice cream cone long forgotten and now a mess on my floorboards. Idon’t care. I’ll clean it out later. I have more important things to take care of now.
She settles on my lap, my cock sliding against her wetness, and it’s so fucking hot. I want to fuck her. I want to feel her tight little pussy around me.
“Odette,” I say against her. “Get the condom out of my wallet.”
She reaches behind me to grab the rubber I’m damn glad I thought to replace before leaving the house as I move my lips to her throat, sucking and nipping at her. She pulls it free, opens the wrapper, then slides the condom over my dick.
She follows it with her wet cunt, pushing her panties to the side as she sinks down on me with a long, low groan.
Yeah, so much for avoiding her tonight, indeed.
There’s no slow buildup. There’s nothing romantic. She just holds on to my shoulders and fucks herself on me, head thrown back as she finds a rhythm that works for her.
I let her, loving how she looks as the orange-and-pink sunset casts colors over her skin. As sweat forms along her brow and the windows steam up. As her lips part when she finds that spot that feels just right. And as she falls apart around me, taking my own orgasm right along with her.
She slumps against me, satiated and with a small smile on her lips.
I love this look for her—contented and sleepy.
I kiss her temple, trying to get my heart out of my throat.
“We should probably go inside,” I say after several long minutes.
She pushes off me, looking up at me with pinkened skin and sleepy blue eyes. “Already ready for round two? I didn’t realize old men could go again that quickly.”
“Odette,” I warn, and she laughs.
She pulls off me with a groan, then pushes open the door and hops out of the truck.
“Last one in owes the other an orgasm!”
Then she takes off toward the house, peering back over her shoulder with a laugh.
After tucking myself away, I chase behind her with a grin of my own and realize that if she asks, I might just follow her anywhere.
The thought isn’t as scary as it should be.
Chapter Sixteen
Odette
Avoiding your best friend is a true art form, especially when you’re the one planning her wedding.
I guess I’m a Picasso because I’ve avoided Izzy like it’s my job.
Some of it hasn’t been entirely my fault. She’s been wrapped up in Craig and hasn’t had time to meet me either. But there have been chances, and I’ve successfully dodged every one of them.
Why?
