The mere thought of it has precum leaking out of me, my hips bucking up with need. This moment could last for eternity, but it still wouldn’t be enough. With a hand still on her ass, I use the other one tofondle her breast. It fits perfectly in my palm, small and perky, and I hold back from ripping the top half of her dress to free them. The nipple hardens like a diamond under my touch, and I pinch it between two fingers, just roughly enough to make her release a soft plea—half-cry, half-moan.
It seems I’m not the only one who craves more because she reaches for my belt between us. Understanding what she wants, I freeze. “I have an IUD,” she breathes against my lips. “And I’m clean. Are you?”
I give her a single nod, hands clutching her ass. We shouldn’t do this. For so many reasons, we shouldn’t.
Her fumbling hands get the best of my belt, and she slides it out of the buckle before moving on to the button.
“Are you sure about this?” My voice is altered by passion, just like hers.
She lets out a moan, resuming her undulations. “No… But Ineedit.”
Her tongue is in my mouth again before I can answer, robbing me of my ability to think.
It turns out I’m not as strong as I believe myself to be because I cave in and assist her with unfastening my slacks. This maddening need won’t be satisfied until I’m deeply planted inside her.
I lift myself to lower my pants, which lifts her with me, so she clings to my neck. Just as I’m about to push the slacks down, the unexpected sound of someone hitting the car’s roof startles us both.
“Woo-hoo! Yeah, man! Hit that pussy!” a man shouts outside.
It stops me more efficiently than a bucket of icy water would have, and Andrea jolts away from me. In her haste to set some distance between us, she accidentally hits the steering wheel behind her, honking. A small cluster of drunk people is passing next to the Mercedes, and the sound attracts their attention. The man who yelled is already done with us, but a few others peek inside the car.
I glare at them, cursing their horrible sense of timing.
When I turn back to her, I understand that the sensuous mood has turned into embarrassment and awkwardness. She’s temptation incarnate, with her lips swollen, her eyes ravenous, her cheeks flushed…
The night doesn’t have to be over yet. I can take her to my place, and we can resume in a more private setting. I’m not ready to let her go. Not now that I know she wants me as much as I want her.
“Andrea, I—”
“Don’t,” she stops me, reaching for the door.
She extracts herself from my lap, avoiding my aching cock as she does, and exits the car. As soon as she’s out, she takes a few wobbly steps away from me, rearranging her dress and passing a hand over her face. I hastily refasten my slacks, ignoring the wetness she left there.
I join her outside, adamant to soothe the situation. We’re adults who are into one another. It happens.
“Andrea,” I try again, grazing her bare shoulder.
She shrugs away from my touch and turns around to face me. “No. Don’t say anything. This never happened. We’re drunk and tired, and it got the best of us.”
Ah. So this is how she wants to play it? Like it never happened? “Right. The wine did it,” I respond with sarcasm.
Like the obstinate, insufferable woman she is, she says, “Yes, of course.”
Alright then. If she wants to act like none of it was real, we will. Exasperated, I pass a hand through my hair. Without another word, I return to my car, bend inside to grab her clutch, and return with it. With a dry gesture, I hand it to her.
“There you go. I’m sorry the wine made you assault me.”
She angrily frowns at me, like this isn’t precisely what she’s implying. Halfway back to my car, I feel the need to make things clear on my side, so I spin around again. “I’m not intoxicated, Andrea, or I wouldn’t have driven you home.” Then, after a few seconds of hesitation, I’m gone for good, slamming the door behind me. The tires screech on the asphalt as I take off.
The entire car smells of her, so I open the windows. But I can’t do anything about the scent of her arousal etched on my fingers. Not until I get home. Once that is gone as well, there will be nothing left of the heated minutes we just shared.
Nothing but the fucking memory of it, forever engraved in my mind.
Long after his car disappeared into the night, I was still there, holding my bag in front of me. I don’t know how to fucking cope with what happened, but mostly, I don’t know what to make of his admission.
It’s all a drunken mistake for me, but for him… it isn’t?
I’ll have to share an office with the man, knowing we were ten seconds away from fucking each other’s brains out. I’ll have to sit next to him, aware that he almost filled me with his dick—raw at that—and he was in full control of his capacities. He wanted it.
