Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
AUSTIN
“Ouch,” I complain mindlessly when I bump my head against the roof of the truck. Again. It doesn’t bother me a bit.
“Dammit, Tex. I told you—shit.”
I grin, squeezing around him again since it stops his nagging.
“Fuck, baby, keep doing that and this’ll be over with before you want it to be. I told you I’m too old for this,” he groans, head thrown back against the backseat headrest.
No such luck on the nagging, it seems.
“You’re not even doing the work, Rancher.” My thighs can attest to it. His fingers dig into my hips under my dress and I mentally mourn that I can’t see his hands against my skin as I ride him.
My eyes flutter closed and I let my head fall back as well. I move against him languidly, taking my time since he wants to holler at me every time I bounce faster and end up hitting my head. It’s not like it hurts.
Apparently, it’s hard to have a literal quickie without making the truck rock and since Maddox’s pickup is pretty well known around town, it rocking would cause some talking. Small towns are annoying like that and the foggy windows are already a risk.
“Fucking hell, we’re never having sex before a date again,” he groans, staring up at the roof of the pickup like not watching me ride him will stave off his orgasm.
I grin, leaning forward and grabbing him by the jaw, planting a kiss on his lips to stop myself from giving him shit for calling this a date. He bands his arms around my waist and fucks up into me, making me moan into the kiss.
“Truck’s rockin’,” I choke out when he pulls away, breathless. There’s something about being manhandled that gets me going. All things considered, it shouldn’t. But him taking over and fucking me how he wants to fuck me, despite me being on top, has my belly tightening.
He grunts. “Don’t give a fuck.”
Someone whistles and slaps the side of the truck as they pass, but it doesn’t stop Maddox, who’s let go of my waist just long enough to grab my wrists and pin them behind my back. In just one of his hands. Lord have mercy. “Come for me, baby.”
I shake my head, stubborn and clinging to my orgasm. I want this to last. I want to put off what comes next. A date feels vulnerable. Sex doesn’t.
Maddox growls, using his other hand to wrap around my throat. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, despite the sweat dotting his brow. I know he’s barely hanging on as well.
“Green,” I push out, whiny. My reward is a tighter grip and a harder fuck. My body betrays me, eyes rolling back as I come apart for him.
“Fucking hell. Good girl, Aus.” He barely gets it out before he’s filling the condom with his release, letting go of my wrists so he can grab my hips again. I’m grateful when he takes over entirely, keeping the pace until we’ve both finished.
I fall forward against his chest, and he kisses my damp forehead, banding his arms around my back again. Thank god for setting spray. My hair is probably fucked, my dress is definitely wrinkled, but I’m almost positive my makeup didn’t move an inch.
It’s quiet in the cab of the truck, other than the sounds of us catching our breath. I usually hate this silence. It can get awkward fast, but with Maddox, I’m content. I feel like I could stay in this silence with him for hours and not get bored.
So I break it. “Why don’t you like fucking before going out?”
“Hmm?”
I snort and sit up. He slips out of me and I busy my hands with the condom, sitting back on his thighs. “You said we couldn’t fuck before we went out ever again. Why?”
He’s slow to respond, and when I look up to see why, his eyes are on my hands. He notices me watching him and furrows his brows, like he’s trying to remember the question. “Cause it just makes me want to take you to bed instead of going out.”
“Fine by me,” I reply with a flirty grin, tying off the condom.
“I know it’s fine by you, but you deserve to be taken out and shown off, not just fucked in secret.”
The silence that follows isn’t so comfortable anymore and it’s in that moment I realize I have a fucking condom in my hand. I look back down at his softened cock, sliding off his lap and onto the seat beside him so he can tuck it away and fix his clothes.
I have a condom in my hand. That I took off of him after sex. And it’s full of his cum. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it until now and there’s absolutely nowhere to put it unless I want to litter.
There’s an odd sort of intimacy with post-sex cleanup. I’m used to handling my own shit while my partner handles theirs. I don’t think I’ve ever held a condom full of cum before.
Before I can spiral much further, Maddox is leaning his too-big body through the front seats and grabbing an old to-go cup from the cupholder. He lifts the plastic lid to the side and holds it out for me.
I toss the condom inside without looking him in the eye, then busy myself with fixing my dress and finger-combing through my hair.
It’s pointless. I’ll need to do it again when I’m in the front seat and can use the mirror on the visor, but it’s something to do that doesn’t involve looking at Maddox.
“I think it’s safe to say these belong to me now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of red and turn to snatch my panties off his finger. “Aht, aht,” he chides with a grin, pulling them out of my reach. “It’s a rite of passage. Sex in the backseat means I get to keep the panties.”
“Oh yeah? Colt tell you that?”
He doesn’t take the bait, making a show of tucking them into his shirt pocket. They bulge out ridiculously. “Yep. He’s got tons.”
“Probably got one of mine then,” I joke, but even that doesn’t steal the smile from his face. He’s harder to rile up after sex, I’m noticing. I take it as a compliment. I must’ve sated him pretty damn well if bringing up his brother isn’t annoying him.
I hum. “Alright, well, guess I’ll just have to be extra careful not to flash anyone at the restaurant. Would hate for anyone to get a look up my skirt and see—”
He grumbles, tossing the panties in my lap and checking to make sure the coast is clear before getting out of the backseat. I’m still laughing, pulling my thong back in place under my dress, when he slides in behind the steering wheel.
“Quit your cackling and get your ass up here, brat. We’re late for our reservation as it is,” he says, shoving the condom-filled to-go cup back in the cupholder.
I climb over the center console to obey, still grinning at his grumpy possessiveness. He swats my ass and I yelp, plopping down in the passenger seat and glaring at him.
“Seatbelt,” is all he says as he puts the truck in drive and pulls out of the bar’s parking lot, but even his mustache can’t hide his smile.