I rock once, slow. His cock pushes against the wet fabric, firm and demanding. My body gives a sharp tremble, and I hold on to his shoulders so I don't fall forward. He kisses the side of my throat and drags his teeth over my skin, not enough to hurt but enough to take the air out of my chest.
"You feel good like this," he says. "You always did."
I push down harder and slide forward again. My clit presses right against the thick ridge of him, and my breath catches hard. His hands tighten and pull my hips through another grind, guiding the pace, guiding every movement.
"Oh God," I breathe out.
"That's it," he mutters. "Use me. I want to feel you all over me."
I move again, a slow roll of my hips that makes him groan under me. His hands leave my waist and slide under my dress, up the back of my thighs, gripping the soft skin there. He squeezes once, rough and greedy.
"Take the panties off," he says.
I don't argue. I push them down my legs and let them fall somewhere near the pedals. The second the fabric is gone, he pulls me down again, cock trapped between us, slick now with how wet I am.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You're soaked."
The sound that leaves my throat is not a word. I grind down again, slow at first, then harder when the pressure hits just right. His cock slides against my slit with each roll of my hips, and the wet noise fills the car. My legs shake. My hands slip from his shoulders to his jaw, holding him in place as I kiss him, deep and hungry.
He takes over immediately. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming every inch. His kiss is hard and messy, like he can't get enough. His grip on my thighs gets stronger, pushing me down again and again.
"You like grinding on my cock?" he asks against my mouth.
"Yes," I breathe.
"You want to take it?"
"Yes."
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are dark, focused on my face like nothing else exists. "Not yet."
A frustrated sound escapes me. He lifts my hips and moves me forward until my clit slides right over the head of his cock. The contact sends a sharp jolt through my whole body.
"Ride it slow," he says.
I do. I move my hips in small circles, letting him hit the same spot each time. My clit throbs so hard I feel light-headed. He watches every movement, jaw set, breath uneven. His hands grip my hips and guide me when my rhythm slips.
"That's it," he whispers. "Show me how much you want it."
I rock forward again, then back, dragging the length of him through my slick folds. My thighs squeeze around him. My chest presses into his. I kiss him again, harder, because not kissing him feels impossible.
His hand leaves my hip and moves up under my dress, sliding higher until he reaches my breast. He pulls the strap down and cups me, thumb brushing over my nipple. My body jerks. The pleasure shoots straight down.
"Gabe," I whisper, voice breaking.
He groans. "I know."
He squeezes my breast harder, thumb circling slow and deliberate, and the sensation mixes with the pressure between my legs until everything inside me pulls tight. I grind faster. He meets every roll of my hips with a deep thrust upward that hits my clit in a way that makes my toes curl.
"Fuck," I choke, holding onto his neck. "I'm close."
He drags his mouth along my jaw. "Then come on me."
I move faster. His cock slides over my pussy, hitting the same spot again and again. My breath comes in sharp bursts and my thighs shake harder. He pulls me down, grinding my clit against him until everything snaps.
I come with a hard gasp and bury my face in his shoulder. My body shakes and clamps around nothing, desperate for more. He holds me through it, one arm around my back, the other gripping my ass, keeping me moving even as the waves roll through me.
"That's it," he whispers into my hair. "Shake for me."
