Moving the car slightly forward with traffic, he slides his fingers up over the satin triangle of my thong like he’s petting a cat. The sleek fabric rubs against my freshly waxed, bare pussy with a delicious glide, a totally new sensation for me. All the blood in my body seems to rush to one of two places—my cheeks and between my legs.
In no hurry, Nate moves slowly, taking his time. Making me squirm and swallow the sharp gasps that try to work from my throat. My body feels like it’s on fire.
“Hmmm, that’s one minute down,” he says. “Four to go. Take your seatbeltoff.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. My brain is too busy feeling things. “What?”
“Seatbelt off,” he repeats. “And I said I’d make you come in five minutes.”
Slipping a finger beneath my panties, he leans across the center console and nips my ear with his teeth.
“Yes, you did,” I whisper breathlessly, fumbling to unbuckle the seatbelt.
“I plan to make it three.”
One finger slips between my completely smooth lower lips, and he slides his thumb over my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. My hips jut forward as my body jerks with the unexpected burst of pleasure, and I realize why he wanted me unbuckled. He’s merciless with his hand, intent on winning his little bet as he begins to stroke my clit with a steady motion and just enough pressure to make me pant.
And then the sound of laughter outside my window startles me, and I freeze. Someone is going to see.
I know that I should lower my skirt, try to protect my modesty, but I can’t make my hands move to get it done. Nate watches me, bemused, his thumb hardly moving, his thick finger curled inside me, making me sweat for more contact…until the gridlock suddenly breaks free up ahead and he has to turn his attention back to the road.
But not his hand. That stays where it is, quickening the pace, working my body so expertly.
Panting harder now, I close my eyes and press back against the seat as the molten pressure of an orgasm builds. Hotter. Deeper. Right on the brink. So close.
A whimper escapes my lips. I almost said his name…almost, but it dies off as he steps on the gas and increases each stroke to a furious pace. He can tell how close I am. And he’s enjoying this. The curve of his lips is unmistakable. Is he smiling because he’s literally got me in the palm of his hand, or because he’s getting off on this too somehow?
He slips a second finger inside me, but he doesn’t even have time to make use of it. Because the instant I feel the sweet fullness of both fingers pumping into me, I dig my nails into the sides of the seat, arch my back, and come all over his hand.
Forget that anybody who passes by could look through my window and see me getting fingered. Forget that I’m probably moaning loud enough to be heard outside the car. Forget that I barely know this man. I’m coming like a freight train, and nothing can stop me.
Wave after wave, each just as strong as the last, courses through me until the climax finally begins to taper off. Completely wrung out and weak-kneed, I open my eyes and realize there’s a bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck. I’m spent.
Dazed, I press the back of my hand to my hot forehead and try to slow my breathing.
“That was…” But I don’t even have the words.
“Exactly three minutes.” He smirks. “Exactly.”
Withdrawing his hand from between my legs, he slips his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.
Oh my God.
Returning his full attention to the road, he taps his finger against the wheel as he drives. Several minutes pass before I have the strength to fix my dress. My body hums, finding some kind of a second wind, and,to my surprise, feeling as turned on and needy as before. As if it wants more.
As if…I want more.
What does Nate have planned for when we get home? Is he going to have me spend my first night in the house in his bed…or will he come to mine?
Three minutes. That’s wild. He’s even more skilled than I’d imagined. Excitement pumps through my chest. I think I’m going to enjoy the next six months. And it’s not just the sex, either.
I’ve never been fed oysters before. The way he brought them to my lips and watched me eat…the little goosebumps that he drew on my skin with his touch. It felt like he was seducing me. And though he didn’t say it, I saw the appreciation in his eyes.
He liked how I looked tonight. It turned him on. I turned him on, and he just let me know it by giving me the fastest, most intense orgasm of my life. This is only our first faux date, but it already feels like something I could grow to appreciate. The way he defended me, the way he ordered for me, the way he kept his arm around me when we left the restaurant. I didn’t realize how much more I could get out of this arrangement than simply learning how to please my future husband.
We pull into the alley beside Nate’s brownstone, and he taps the button on his steering wheel that triggers the roll-up door for the garage level. Once we’re parked, he gets out and comes around the car to let me out. I’m bursting with anticipation as we leave the garage and walk around the corner of the brownstone, heading right for the front door. He’s going to lead me upstairs and–
“Do you remember the code for your door?” he asks.
