A slow grin pulls at my mouth.
Oh, I have plenty planned.
If she thinks tonight involves sleep, she's very mistaken. And even if she does manage to fall asleep at some point… I’ll happily wake her up again with my cock inside her.
With her permission, of course.
For now, though, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and shake my head, knowing I can't do anything as she makes herself cum next to me.
I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek and steal a quick peek at her.
“I’ll settle for your desperate, needy sounds instead,” I mutter. “Push the seat back and spread your legs wider.”
She does exactly what I say. No eyeroll, no smart comment, no argument.
I take note of that.
I’ll reward her for it later.
Of course, I’ll also be punishing her for teasing me like this in the first place.
That will be fun.
Once she's settled, she looks over at me again, eyes bright, lips parted.
“Can I touch myself?”
I can't help but grin. Even when she's the one starting trouble, she still wants permission. Still wants to be told what to do.
My beautiful brat.
“Just one finger,” I tell her. “Slide it in and tell me how wet you are.”
A quiet sound slips out of her, soft but full of need.
“So wet, sir.”
This, sir, thing needs to become permanent. I have no idea why it turns me on so much, but it's staying.
“Good girl,” I say roughly. “Always so wet for me.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as the road curves through the hills. “You going to make a mess on my seat, princess?”
“I think so,” she whimpers, and it takes everything in me not to pull the car over and bury my face between her thighs instead till she suffocates me.
“Two fingers. All the way to the knuckle. Use your other hand… play with your clit. Tug on your piercing.”
The sounds that spill out of her should be illegal.
I’m really starting to hate the fact that I wore jeans today.
“Oh god, that's so good,” she breathes.
I don't dare look at her. Not even for a second, cause I don’t want to kill us.
Instead, I focus on the road winding through the hills while everything else assaults my senses—the wet, unmistakable sound of her fingers moving, the hitch in her breathing, and the soft moans she tries and fails to swallow down.
My name sounds different when she's all needy like this. Breathless, desperate. Like a damn siren call. If I could record it and play it back later, I probably would.
“Keep going,” I order. “Rub your clit faster for me.”
