Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Then the kiss deepens, a slow, hard pull that reaches deep inside me, feeding the hunger. Our mouths, lips, and tongues dance like savages with each other, violent and ravenous and wild.
He suddenly grabs my waist and hoists me up a few inches, positioning his cock just so before lowering me. I gasp at the intrusion, my body so fucking ready yet so unprepared that I have to remember to breathe. If it wanted a break after New York, it’s not getting one.
“Fuck me,” he mutters against my neck as he deliberately drives his cock upward and into me, my muscles expanding around him as much as they can. “So fucking good, Marina. You feel so fucking good.”
I can’t even answer him. I’m sucked under a wave and all I can feel is him pushing, spreading inside me, taking over every thought and feeling. I’ve never felt so full, so thoroughly complete before.
I try my best to pump myself up and down given how my knees and shins are perched on the seat but I can’t get much lift. Instead, I’m at Laz’s mercy, his hands holding onto my waist like I weigh nothing. He lifts me up, just an inch, while thrusting upwards, deeper and deeper until I can’t control the sounds that are coming out of my mouth.
I’m so close to coming, and so fast, just on his cock alone as he rubs a sweet spot deep inside and—
There’s a knock at the window.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp, flinching so hard I almost fly off Laz’s dick.
A flashlight comes through the fog.
“It’s a rozzer,” Laz says and I don’t even have time to wonder what a rozzer is because I’m quickly, awkwardly, climbing off of him and onto my seat, pulling my top up and my skirt down.
Laz tucks his dick away, glances at me with wide-eyes, a hint of a crazed smile, then rolls down the window a crack.
“Can I help you?” Laz says to the flashlight.
A face lowers into sight and looks at the both of us. It’s a cop. Which must be a rozzer in Manchester speak.
The cop clears his throat. “We don’t allow cars to be parked here this time of night. You’ll have to get moving.”
“Right, didn’t know that,” Laz says. “I’m foreign.”
“Uh uh,” the cop says. “Just be on your way now.”
He turns and walks away and now I can see his car. Not even a cop, he’s a park ranger. But he has a gun, so we probably should listen.
Laz rolls the window down further and laughs wildly, starting the car and turning on the air to disperse the condensation.
“I can’t believe that just bloody happened,” he says, flicking on the headlights.
“I can,” I tell him. “I guess it was pretty obvious what we were doing.”
“Hey we could have been hot-boxing.”
“For some reason that’s probably not as frowned upon as sex in a public place.”
“Ah, you Americans are a bunch of prudes, I tell you.”
“Hey,” I say, smacking his arm as we drive out of the parking lot and onto Highway 1, heading north. “I’m not a prude.”
“No,” he says, a devilish look coming across his eyes. “You’re not.” He glances down quickly at my thighs. “Spread your legs for me.”
“What?”
“Do it. Spread your legs. Pull up your skirt.”
My mouth drops open, that desire that disappeared from the shock of earlier is back. I’m still wet, I’m still unsatisfied and needy.
And I do what he says, flashing him.
He gnaws on his lip, eyes darting between the winding curves of Highway 1 and the soft curves of my thighs.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I warn him, pulling my dress down a bit as a threat.
“I will. I will.” He licks his lips and then reaches over, sliding his hand between my legs. Because the car is an old sports car, everything is compact and he doesn’t have to reach far with his long arms.
I spread my legs wider, give him easier access. His fingers slide with ease against me. The angle may be a bit awkward but given how fucking hot this is, him trying to get me off while driving, I’ll forgive it. Hell, all he needs to do is just touch me and if I want to let go, I can.
“Touch yourself,” he says. “Your tits.”
I gulp and look nervously around. There are no other cars in our direction, the only ones are passing the other way. Even if there was a car in front or behind us, they wouldn’t be able to see anything because of our lights in the darkness.
I bring my breasts out of my top, my nipples hardening in the cool air and start squeezing them, teasing them, putting on a show for Laz.
Still, I’m wary. Nervous. I’m so fucking new at this that even the simple things are big leaps for me. Not so much in courage, but in sexuality. I’m coming into my own, learning what I want, what I like, but it’s happening so fast. If it wasn’t Laz behind the wheel, controlling the proverbial ride, I don’t think it would happen.