“So good,” I moan, riding him harder. “You feel so good inside me.”
“Yeah?” His voice drops, deep and hungry as he thrusts up to meet me. “You like riding me in my truck?”
“Yes,” I say, the word breaking apart in my throat. I’m already right on the edge, my whole body tight and wound up around him. “Don’t stop.”
“Not planning on it,” he growls. His thumb circles my clit, slow at first, then firmer, tighter, like he’s learning my body second by second. “You’re so beautiful like this. Taking what you need from me.”
His voice. His hands. His cock inside me.
It all slams together and pushes me closer…too close.
I move faster, chasing that sharp, perfect pressure building low in my belly. Every grind, every brush of his body against mine sends another burst of heat through me.
“Scotty,” I gasp. “I'm close. I'm so close.”
“That's my girl,” he groans. “Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I’m fucking you.”
That does it.
That pushes me right over.
I cry out, loud and wrecked, my whole body seizing around him as the orgasm hits me hard. I clamp down around his cock, pulsing and shaking. He swears, low and filthy, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving through it, fucking me through every wave until I’m trembling against him.
“Fuck, Laura,” he groans, hips starting to stutter. He’s close—I can feel it in the way his breath drags, in the way his grip bruises my hips. “I’m going to—”
“Yes,” I whisper, breathless, ruined, but still riding him. “Come for me. Come inside me.”
He groans and buries himself fully inside me as he comes. I feel every pulse of it, every shudder of his body beneath mine. His hands clamp down hard on my hips as if he’s holding on for dear life while he spills into the condom. His head drops to my shoulder, breath hot against my skin, voice breaking as he rides out the aftershocks.
We stay like that, locked together as we catch our breath.
When I fold into his chest, his arms wrap around me, holding me tight.
“That was…” I trail off, not fully recovered.
“Incredible,” he finishes, pressing a soft, dazed kiss to my forehead. “You're incredible.”
I lift my head to look at him. His hair is completely ruined from my fingers, sticking up in every direction. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed, and he’s never looked more beautiful.
“I can't believe we just did that,” I say, laughing softly.
“No regrets?” he asks, his thumb brushing my hip.
“None,” I say firmly. “You?”
“Not a single one.” He kisses me softly. “Though we should probably get cleaned up before someone actually does see us.”
Reluctantly, I lift myself off him and climb back into my seat. He tries to clean himself up with napkins from his glove compartment, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
“Stop smirking,” he grumbles, but he's smiling too. “I’m trying to regain some dignity so I can drive.”
“That’s impossible,” I tease. “You look thoroughly debauched.”
He shakes his head, laughing. When we’re both dressed, he starts the truck and reaches for my hand, threading our fingers together.
“Can I come home with you?” he asks. His voice is soft, but the look in his eyes is anything but.
“My place?” I ask, surprised.
