Her eyes narrow in my direction, her hand resting on the center console. “Do you trust me?”
“Right now, in this truck, with that question?” I glance at her once, a thrill zipping down my back. “Sure.”
She turns in her seat, angling toward me, and I lean back into the door slightly because I need to see how far this goes and also because if she gets closer, I’m going to try to not drive us off the road. I adore how she’s always up for a challenge to prove herself.
“You think I won’t,” she says.
“I think you’ll do exactly what you want to, and I’ll deal with the consequences.”
“That’s very evolved of you.” She tugs at her seat belt to loosen it. Then her fingers touch the inside of my thigh, and I breathe quicker. Her touch is light, barely there, tracing a line upward, and I feel it through the denim.
“You’re going to get us killed,” I say very calmly.
The corner of her mouth pulls. She traces upward and over the length of my cock, and my jaw clenches. Fuck!
I don’t want her to stop now or ever. And now I need to keep driving just to see how far she’ll take this.
“You’re so much bigger than I thought,” she says, almost to herself.
“I told you I don’t exaggerate.”
She squeezes me and I groan, my pulse drumming in my veins, my cock desperate for release.
“You could tell me to stop,” she almost purrs.
“Yep.”
“But you’re not.” Her grin is so evil, loving this moment of torture.
“Correct.”
She works at my belt suddenly, and I let her. With one hand on the wheel, the road ahead empty and sun-bright, I am keeping this truck between the lines through sheer force of will. The button on my jeans comes open. Then the zipper.
She parts the denim and pulls down my boxers, and I hiss a breath in through my teeth. “Oh,” she says, with the specific quality of someone revising an estimate as she stares down at my huge, now-free cock. “Okay.”
“You’re welcome,” I manage.
“You’re so much more?—”
“I know.”
“I was going to sayconfident.”
“Sure you were.” I’m gripping the wheel with both hands now, and the road is going to need my full attention. However, she wraps her fingers around me, and my full attention is not available.
She strokes me once, slowly, watching my face.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask.
“So much. And you?”
“Fuck yeah.” My hips want to move, but I don’t let them. “You’re trying to make us crash.”
“I’m barely doing anything.”
Her grip tightens, and I breathe the word out: “Christ.”
Her hand moves lower, slow, exploratory, and when she cradles my balls fully, I growl, the sound deep and guttural in my chest. She glances up and grins as if she’s won a game she invented thirty seconds ago. Her hand goes back to my shaft and suffocates it. I’m gasping for air… “Fuck, Adelaide.”
