“This is a driving lesson,” he said, voice edged with amusement. “You’re an awful student.”
One of his hands left the wheel, lifting my chin. He tilted my face up and kissed me.
I melted into it, breath catching as his hand slid to my leg, grounding me. When he pulled back, he brushed his thumb along my jaw.
“Pay attention.”
The shift in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. He returned both hands to the wheel, and I followed his lead—though not without leaning back into him again.
He guided my hand to the gearshift, moving it into drive, then slowly eased off the brake. The car crept forward, and my excitement gave way to a flicker of panic.
“What do I do?” I asked quickly, gripping tighter.
“Steer,” he said, barely holding back laughter. “Move the car.”
I jerked the wheel left, clearing the pole with plenty of space. He pressed the gas slightly, then braked again, bringing us to a stop.
“I don’t know if I like this,” I muttered.
“You steer. I’ll handle the pedals.” His tone carried a quiet confidence as his arms settled around my waist again.
I guided the wheel cautiously as he controlled our speed, keeping us slow and steady through the empty lot. His touch lingered—distracting, deliberate—and I fought to stay focused.
I gently turned the steering wheel to the right as Erich softly pressed down on the gas. We never went faster than fifteen miles per hour as I guided the car back and forth, careful to stay in the middle of the parking lot and away from the poles. Erich’s right hand lingered at the waistband of my jeans, his left holding my thigh in place. I tried to steer as he distracted me, slipping his fingers down the front of my pants to toy with the lace of my underwear…
“I’m trying to learn how to drive.” I fought back a smile as I used his words against him, feeling his hand move lower. “You’re a terrible teacher.”
“Do as I say, not what I do,” he murmured into my ear as his left hand came up and unbuttoned my jeans. “That’s a pretty good teaching method.”
I moved the steering wheel all the way to the right, sending the car into slow, lazy circles in the middle of the parking lot as I held my breath. His fingers met the sensitive place between my legs, his thumb grazing my clit with enough pressure that my lips parted and I fought back a gasp.
“Keep driving.” Erich’s firm voice cut through my bliss as I gently bucked against him in response to what he was doing. A small whine caught in my throat as I adjusted the wheel, trying to follow the lines of the lot without crossing them.
I was dripping as his mouth traveled from my hair down to my bare neck. Erich still controlled the pedals, giving the car more gas here and there and pumping the brake when I got too confident. My hips pressed against his as he touched me in the driver’s seat of the Rolls-Royce. I hoped Reed was leering up from Hell, furious that I was having an orgasm while driving his car.
My face flushed as I held back the release burning in my core. My hands shook on the wheel as Erich gently bit my neck, rubbing my clit in small, circular motions. I couldn’t hold back anymore. My hips pressed into him as the wave of pleasure made my whole body quiver. My hands slipped from the wheel, and I moaned loud enough that anyone nearby would have heard.
Erich’s breathing was steady at the nape of my neck before I realized we were about to drive out onto the road. I gasped, grabbing the wheel again just as he pressed the brakes, bringing the car to an anticlimactic halt at the edge of the road.
My pants hung open as Erich pulled his hand away, gripping the gear and shifting into reverse. I struggled to catch my breath as he moved my hands from the wheel, backing us safely into the parking lot again. He then shifted back into drive and let go of the steering wheel so I could take control.
“Keep going. You’re doing fine,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“I think I’ve had enough,” I laughed softly, still catching my breath. I leaned back into him, letting myself relax. “Shouldn’t we be heading home?”
“It’s late,” he said, voice low. “We can keep going… but you’d probably sleep better in a bed. Your neck’s going to hate you tomorrow.”
I pressed my lips together, considering, then nodded. “Okay. One condition. No bullet holes in the door.”
He chuckled. “We’re in farmland Illinois. You’d have to go looking for that.”
I smiled, easing away and climbing back into the passenger seat. I buttoned my jeans, slipped my shoes back on, and buckled up as he adjusted his seat and did the same.
As he pulled out of the lot, I opened the glovebox out of idle curiosity. The interior light flicked on, revealing its contents.
I sifted through—tire gauge, gloves, golf tees—until my fingers brushed a leather booklet.
“Registration,” Erich said casually.
