“Yes, very.” My eyes were on her.
The wind picked up, howling outside the warm confines of the car. We sat in darkness, eating in remote silence. Aside from the little moans that escaped her throat with each crispy frenchfry she savored. It made my pants tighten and wicked images rise to the front of my thoughts. I didn’t even taste the burger. I was too busy imagining my cock slipping through her lips and painting her tongue with my come.
The stretch of time and the ease of the quiet gave me time to reflect. From the bottom of my very being, I knew I wasn’t a virtuous person. I wasn’t clean or innocent. Sometimes I looked in the mirror and swore I could see the seething, rabid thing living between my ribs clawing to get out. A broken and feral creature caged, but only for the moment. There was no telling how much longer I could keep dragging it back into my chest before it spilled over.
And Ophelia, she was a stubborn bud wrapped in floral petals. A sweet thing in a natural sense. Like honey sticking to the lips.
As if feeling my gaze, she looked at me with a fire in her eyes. One that made me forget my own name, my past, and all the trauma bundled up in the tender meat of my insides. I couldn’t help wanting to cradle her in my hands and replace my beating heart with her.
Hot air increased the rising tension between us. With each passing second, an unspoken future unraveled, and anticipation tingled along my skin. Despite the days apart, that mutual hunger returned with a volcanic fervor ready to erupt.
“What are we doing out here, Professor?” she asked. Her lashes fluttered, and her parted lips drew my gaze.
“I’m not really sure.” Pressure built inside me, and my restraint trembled in my grasp. “Perhaps I wanted to see what would happen if I got you alone again.”
Her breathing hitched. She licked her lips unconsciously, leaning closer.
“And? We’re alone.”
The tether in my chest connecting me to her went taut and nearly snapped. “Yes, we are.”
“So, tell me,” she whispered, “what you want to do with me.”
“Fuck.” The word belted free.
I couldn’t say who moved first, but we were on a collision course.
“Yes,” Ophelia rasped seconds before our mouths crashed.
The violence of my passion betrayed me. Could she feel the hunger in my mouth as I devoured her lips? Could she feel how deeply I yearned for her as I reached across the yawning distance and grabbed her? Was she as aroused as me when I pulled her onto my lap and caged her in my arms?
The tangle of our mouths was messy and graceless. All teeth and hunger and frenzy. Ophelia grabbed my shoulders, emitting a slight squeak when I laid down the seat and she fell with me. My hands were instantly on her again, sliding down her waist to her hips and grabbing the soft curves of her. She became breathless quickly, rocking on top of me and keening for more.
Fuck, she was perfection.
The pressure of her rubbing my erection made me bite my lips. I pulled her closer and nuzzled my face in her neck. Ophelia continued dry-fucking me, riding faster the moment my mouth latched onto her throat. The noises flying from her lips as my tongue and teeth marked a trail up to her earlobe were utterly obscene.
Ophelia wore a sweater dress and tights that were in the way of my wandering hands. She yelped when I gripped the fabric and ripped it between her thighs, but the sound morphed into a high-pitched whimper as I reached for her underwear—finding them soaked.
I bunched up the hem of her dress to her hips then tugged her underwear out of the way. Ophelia’s shaking hands skimmeddown my stomach and stopped at my belt. “I want to make you feel good, Professor.”
My hand curved around the back of her neck, and I pulled her mouth back to mine. “Then ride my fucking cock, Ophelia.”
A tiny whine escaped her throat.
She whipped into motion, tugging at my belt and unzipping my trousers. I lifted my hips, giving her space to wriggle them down. Delicate fingers wrapped around my cock, ripping a grunt from my chest.
My free hand shot up, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to meet my gaze. My cock throbbed in her palm, and her breath stuttered against my lips. Without looking down, she lifted herself and used her grasp on me to line us up. I hissed when she swiped the sensitive heave through her slippery folds. A sensation better than silk and sin.
Ophelia hovered over my thighs for a few tremulous seconds. I gripped her neck tight and used the other hand to reach down and grab the base of my cock, holding it in place for her. As gentle as ever, she slowly took a seat on my length. Inch by delicious inch, I split her in half until she was filled to the brim.
“Fuck. Fuck. So perfect. So warm. So tight. Feels… feels so fucking good.” A string of praise filled the interior. “You feel so good around my cock, Ophelia.”
“So good,” she echoed, eyes closed and jaw going slack. Her hips and thighs were shaking from the effort of remaining still and growing accustomed to my girth stretching her. Then she audibly swallowed before lowering that sultry stare onto me. “Please, please let me move.”
“Bounce on it, sweetheart.” The command snapped through her like a flipped switch.
A perfect girl, so good for me, doing as she was told. Ophelia dug her nails into my shoulders, using them as leverage to rideme. She was a divine sight to behold. Beautiful and mesmerizing with her face flushed, her eyes dazed with lust, and the breathy little noises she made while we fucked. The windows and rearview mirror were fogging up, and the surrounding air grew thick from the heated air.
