Arousal.
Want.
I let my palm drift up his thigh—slow enough to be innocent if anybody were watching—slow enough to be torture if you know what I’m doing.
His jaw flexes.
“Zaria,” he warns.
The way he says my name does something reckless to me. I love that he always sounds undone when it comes to me. I love that I get to be the woman who makes the composed professor lose his composure.
“I’m just admiring what’s mine,” I stare boldly.
Mine. The word tastes decadent.
My fingers trace the outline of his print beneath his slacks. I’m not rushing. I’m exploring. I lean closer letting my lips brush the shell of his ear. He inhales sharply—the car drifting slightly before he corrects it.
“You trying to make me wreck?” he mutters.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I tease, my voice honeyed and wicked all at once. “Let me handle everything else.”
There’s something intoxicating about this. The risk. The hum of the engine. The fact that the world keeps moving while I slowly unmake the man who just promised me forever.
I shift in my seat, turning toward him fully. The seatbelt presses against my chest as I reach for his belt and unfastening it with deliberate care. Each small metallic sound feels amplified in the quiet.
His breathing changes. Slower. Heavier.
“Z Baby…” he exhales.
I glance up at him through my lashes, holding his gaze for just a second before I’m pulling my dress up over my ass exposing my thong. Before he can blink I’m on my knees leaning over the console to lower head between his thighs.
The leather seat is cool against my skin. The dashboard lights cast a soft glow over his body, over my hands as they smooth over his skin. I let my fingers roam. Mapping the tension in his body. Feeling the way he responds to even my lightest touch.
“I’ve been waiting all night to taste you Hubby,” I confess softly.
The admission makes my erection throb.
He groans under his breath—one hand tightening on the steering wheel, the other sliding into my hair. Not forcing. Just holding. Grounding.
I press a kiss just above his waistband. Slow. Reverent. Because that’s what this feels like. Worship.
I take my time. Teasing. Letting my lips and tongue trace heat without giving him everything. I feel him shudder. Feel his hips twitch before he reins himself in.
“Zaria…” It’s half prayer, half plea.
I love that I can bring him to this place. That as a transwoman, in this body that I fought to claim. Fought to love. Iget to be desired like this. Needed like this. There is no hesitation in him. No doubt. Just hunger and devotion.
I look up at him again while I move. Watching the way his head tips back. The way his throat works as he swallows his moans. The car swerves again. He corrects it with a curse.
“Eyes. On. The road,” I remind him, my voice playful but edged with promise.
He raised his hips at the red light just enough for me to release him from the confines of his clothing. He’s ready for me to taste him. Not only is he heavy and erect in my hand—the head of his shaft is slick with his arousal. I take him in my mouth. The fullness of his length slides directly to the back of my throat.
“Fuck, Baby,” is all he can manage to get out.
His hand tightens in my hair and I moan softly in response, letting the vibration travel through him. He jerks as more rough inaudible sound spill from his lips.
The windows fog slightly. The world outside blurs into streaks of light and shadow, but inside this car, everything is sensation.
