I flood her pussy with my release. When I’m finally done, my body is covered in sweat and I’m breathing hard. Ella collapses against my chest. I hold on to her tightly as we both catch our breath.
After a few minutes, she leans up and looks down at me. A smile breaks across her face. I mirrored her smile with one of my own. Our smiles turn into laughter.
She shakes her head as she climbs out of my lap. My softened cock falls out of her and sticks to my stomach.
“I can’t believe we just had sex in your truck.” She climbs back into her seat.
I watch as all of me and her leak out between her legs. I grab the towel we used earlier and gently clean her with it.
When I look over at her, she’s grinning.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “But I can take it from here.”
Shaking my head at myself, I hand her the towel to finish the job.
I stick my dick back into my underwear and redress.
“I’ll never look at my truck the same way again.” This damn thing will never get sold. The thought of another man sitting in this seat pisses me off.
She chuckles as she slips back into her panties and bottoms. I wait until she’s fully dressed to turn the truck on.
“You’re good though, right?” I checked with her one last time. I didn’t want El to ever feel like I was cheapening our experience. She’s way more than a quick fuck in a truck to me.
She runs her hand down the back of my head, her nails scraping against my short hair.
“I’m great. Better than great, actually.”
I wink at her before pulling away from the parking lot. The rain has slowed down, which means the ride back home will be good. We fall back into our comfortable banter. For the rest of the ride, every time I look over at her, my heart smiles. I can’t believe I’m really here with Ella. This was perfect.
Sorry
Chapter Seventeen
Ella
“Ella, you got anymore of those maple bacon cupcakes?” Mrs. Shirley asks.
Today was my mother’s church’s annual community event. Once a year, the church turned its large parking lot into a flea market-type event. Members of the church would come out, put up a tent, and sell everything from fish plates, handmade flower arrangements, old clothes, to car detailing services. It was a way for the church to raise money and give a little something back to the community.
Every year my mother puts my name down as a dessert vendor. And every year my tent gets the most attention.
“I have only a few left.” I grab the container with the maple-bacon cupcakes inside.
When I was planning my desserts for this event, I hadn’t planned to add the maple-bacon cupcakes. But Mitch told me I’d be crazy not to include them. Those are his favorites. I even had a stash put aside just for him.
After I handed Mrs. Shirley her cupcakes, she paid and went on her way. I busied myself rearranging the remaining desserts I had left.
“How ya’ doing, sister Ella?”
I look up to find Deacon Randall smiling down at me. His bald head was shining in the sun. It almost outshone the gold-capped tooth in his mouth.
For a nearly sixty-year-old man, I won’t lie, the deacon was good-looking. Deep brown skin, dark brown eyes, and a lined goatee. He was dressed in a gray collared knit shirt tucked into his jeans. The giant phone case attached to his belt buckle was a little off-putting, but not too bad.
“I’m fine, Deacon Randall.”
The smile on his face grew a little wider. “You sho’ is. God has been good to you.”
I would be shocked at the man’s blatant attempt to hit on me. But even though this is his first time approaching me, his eyes have been on me all day. His boiled peanut tent is across from mine, and every time I look up, I find him staring at me.
