Neither of us moves. Her hips rock again and I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear. Can feel how wet she still is.
"Claire."
"Yeah?"
"If you keep doing that, I'm going to fuck you in this car."
She goes very still. Then, quietly: "Okay."
My brain short-circuits. "What?"
"Okay. Fuck me."
"I—" I can't think. Can't process. "Here?"
"Why not?"
"Because—" I gesture vaguely at the cramped interior. "There's no room. You deserve better than the front seat of a car for your first time with me."
"Who says this is my first time?"
"First time with me," I clarify. "I want to do it right. Bed, privacy, time to—"
"Nash." She cups my face in her hands. "We're stuck here until morning anyway. I'm already in your lap. You're already hard. I'm already soaking wet. And I really, really want you inside me."
Fuck.
"You're sure?"
"So sure."
"It's going to be cramped."
"I don't care."
"Uncomfortable."
"Don't care."
"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," I tell her, and I mean it.
"Good," she breathes.
That's it. I'm done pretending I have any self-control left.
I kiss her hard, one hand tangling in her hair, the other sliding up under her dress to grip her hip. She moans into my mouth and grinds down against me, and my cock hardens and throbs.
"We need to get this dress off," I growl against her lips.
"How?"
Good question. The car is too small for her to stand up. Too cramped for easy maneuvering.
"Lift your arms," I tell her.
She does, and I grab the hem of her dress and pull it up and over her head including my shirt. And then she's kneeling in my lap in just her underwear, black lace bra and matching panties that are absolutely soaked through.
"Jesus Christ," I breathe.
