Page 212 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

the other dying for his cock.

My clit scrapes his soaked jeans,

catches at the lip of his head,

licking the end of every nerve,

again and again.

I clutch the headrest, taking every delicious stroke he feeds me.

The pleasure it ignites doesn’t rush.

It swims slow,

tiny shocks crawling under my skin,

stretching me wide from the inside out.

The windows fog up around us.

The hum of the engine vibrates the seat.

Through him.

Into me.

Sweat beads on his lip

as he grinds me closer,

my mouth skims his,

tasting the little of him I can.

He looks undone and gorgeous,

eyes hooded, lashes wet, hair damp,

sweat dripping down his temple,

his throat.

My thighs squeeze tight around his fingers as he drags them against my walls. “Fuck,” I cry, my head falling into his neck.

There, I suck the sweat off his neck,

lick the salt off his skin,

feel his pulse kick against my teeth,

and when his thumb slips through my slit and finds my clit,

my head tips back with a gasp.

His mouth chases the sound, his lips sliding down the line of my throat.

My mouth opens⁠—