Out Handling Something #2
I let my palm drift up his thigh—slow enough to be innocent if anybody were watching—slow enough to be torture if you know what I’m doing.
His jaw flexes.
“Zaria,” he warns.
The way he says my name does something reckless to me. I love that he always sounds undone when it comes to me. I love that I get to be the woman who makes the composed professor lose his composure.
“I’m just admiring what’s mine,” I stare boldly.
Mine. The word tastes decadent.
My fingers trace the outline of his print beneath his slacks. I’m not rushing. I’m exploring. I lean closer letting my lips brush the shell of his ear. He inhales sharply—the car drifting slightly before he corrects it.
“You trying to make me wreck?” he mutters.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I tease, my voice honeyed and wicked all at once. “Let me handle everything else.”
There’s something intoxicating about this. The risk. The hum of the engine. The fact that the world keeps moving while I slowly unmake the man who just promised me forever.
I shift in my seat, turning toward him fully. The seatbelt presses against my chest as I reach for his belt and unfastening it with deliberate care. Each small metallic sound feels amplified in the quiet.
His breathing changes. Slower. Heavier.
“Z Baby…” he exhales.
I glance up at him through my lashes, holding his gaze for just a second before I’m pulling my dress up over my ass exposing my thong. Before he can blink I’m on my knees leaning over the console to lower head between his thighs.
The leather seat is cool against my skin. The dashboard lights cast a soft glow over his body, over my hands as they smooth over his skin. I let my fingers roam. Mapping the tension in his body. Feeling the way he responds to even my lightest touch.
“I’ve been waiting all night to taste you Hubby,” I confess softly.
The admission makes my erection throb.
He groans under his breath—one hand tightening on the steering wheel, the other sliding into my hair. Not forcing. Just holding. Grounding.
I press a kiss just above his waistband. Slow. Reverent. Because that’s what this feels like. Worship.
I take my time. Teasing. Letting my lips and tongue trace heat without giving him everything. I feel him shudder. Feel his hips twitch before he reins himself in.
“Zaria…” It’s half prayer, half plea.
I love that I can bring him to this place. That as a transwoman, in this body that I fought to claim. Fought to love. I get to be desired like this. Needed like this. There is no hesitation in him. No doubt. Just hunger and devotion.
I look up at him again while I move. Watching the way his head tips back. The way his throat works as he swallows his moans. The car swerves again. He corrects it with a curse.
“Eyes. On. The road,” I remind him, my voice playful but edged with promise.
He raised his hips at the red light just enough for me to release him from the confines of his clothing.
He’s ready for me to taste him. Not only is he heavy and erect in my hand—the head of his shaft is slick with his arousal.
I take him in my mouth. The fullness of his length slides directly to the back of my throat.
“Fuck, Baby,” is all he can manage to get out.
His hand tightens in my hair and I moan softly in response, letting the vibration travel through him. He jerks as more rough inaudible sound spill from his lips.
The windows fog slightly. The world outside blurs into streaks of light and shadow, but inside this car, everything is sensation.
I deepen the rhythm, letting instinct guide me as my own need coil low. I stroke him with one hand as my mouth makes a wet mess on his length and myself with the other. This isn’t just about pleasing him. It’s about claiming him. About celebrating what we just promised each other.
My ring catches the glow from the dashboard as my hand slides up his length again, the diamond flashing with every movement. His fiancée on her knees with a mouth full of him as he attempts to get us home safely.
“Damn, baby,” he breathes. “You gon’ be the death of me.”
I smile against him, savoring the way his body trembles beneath my touch. I push him closer to the edge—then pull back just enough to keep him right there—suspended in pleasure.
He growls softly. Frustrated and turned on all at once.
“Don’t play with me,” he warns.
I rise slowly while dragging my lips upward. Leaving a trail of animalistic desire as I come back to my seat. I leave him exposed as I smooth my hands over his chest like I didn’t just have him on the edge of unraveling.
His eyes are dark when he glances at me.
“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says.
“You love it.”
He reaches over and grips my length possessively. “I do,” he responds as he strokes me head to base slowly pulling a moan from lips.
I lean in and kiss him slow at a red light tasting us mingled together. When the light turns green, he pulls away reluctantly, shifting the car back into motion.
“Soon as we get home,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise, “I’m laying that seat back and making you remember who you belong to.”
A thrill runs through me.
I settle back into my seat, crossing my legs slowly, letting him see exactly how affected I am. My body is hungry for more.
“Drive,” I tell him softly. “I’ll be ready.”
Every glance he throws my way is dark and deliberate. I can feel the promise in it.
The garage lifts slowly—almost teasing—and the headlights sweep across the concrete and steel. When the door rolls down behind us with a final metallic thud that feels like a seal.
Private.
Calil cuts the engine even though he doesn’t move right away. His hand is still gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to control the sexual energy raging through his veins.
He looks at me.
“Seatbelt off. Clothes off. Heels on.” he says sternly.
The authority in his voice makes my nipples taut and my shaft erect. I unbuckle it slowly as it retracts with a soft hiss. I don’t break eye contact.
He reaches down and pulls the lever. The driver’s seat slides back and reclines in one smooth motion. His body stretches out. I watch his broad chest rise and fall. His shirt slightly rumpled while his dick is hard and pointing north.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
Not loud. Not forceful. Dominant.
I climb across the center console completely nude. I settle over him. My hands brace on his shoulders feeling the strength there along with the tension coiled beneath his skin.
His palms slide up my hips—languid and possessive—gripping like he needs to remind himself I’m real.
“You said you’d be ready,” he says.
His dark eyes rake over me like he’s unwrapping something sacred and sinful.
“I am,” I whisper.
I reach between us and wrap my hand as far around us as possible. I stroke us unhurriedly while grinding into him.
Every nerve feels lit. My body purrs from what we started on the road. From the way he lost control just enough for me to see it.
I lean down and kiss him. Not soft this time. Blistering. Demanding. My tongue claiming space. My teeth grazing his bottom lip before I soothe it with a slow glide of my mouth.
He groans into me and hands tighten on my waist.
I roll my hips letting him feel the fervor between us. A soft sound slips from my throat before I can stop it.
“Damn,” he manages to get out nearly breathless.
His head tips back against the seat. I love seeing him like this. Undone. I love seeing the fire we make because we chose each other. I sit up just enough to look down at him, my ring flashing under the dim garage light. His fiancée. Soon to be his wife.
He grabs some lube from the center console. I chuckle.
“What?” He asks.
“You just knew the night would end like this, huh?”
“Deep inside my fiancée? Hell yea.”
He clicks open the top to coat his fingers before spreading me open and rubbing them all over my hole. The anticipation alone makes me shiver.
“You look so good over me,” he says, voice rough. “Like you were made for this.”
I lean forward letting my lips brushing along his jaw before moving down the column of his throat. “I was made for you,” I murmur against his skin.
I lift slightly before grabbing his dick and sliding down until he completely fills me.
His breath stutters.
I start to move slow at first. A measured cadence of riding and falling on to his girth. Feeling the way his body reacts beneath mine. Each roll of my hips pulls a deeper sound from his chest.
“Shit. Baby you riding me so fucking good. Take all of it.” He moans in a deep vibrato.
The windows fog again but this time there’s no motion outside to distract us.
Just us. Just the echo of our syncopated breathing inside the parked car.
His fingers dig into my hips as my movements grow bolder.
Faster. I let my head fall back when his hand wraps around me—caressing me with a matched intensity.
I let myself feel everything. The pleasure is building--coiling tighter and tighter.
He watches me like he’s memorizing it. Like this is something he’ll replay later when I’m not looking.
“That’s it,” he mutters. “Just like that. You always take me so perfect. Be a good girl and make a mess all over Daddy so I can taste it.”
The praise makes me clench around him. Makes my pace stutter before I find it again. I lean in and press my forehead to his—our breaths mingling.
The rhythm turns urgent. My nails drag lightly over his chest as I ride him harder, chasing that peak, that release that’s been simmering since the since I said yes.
His hands roam. He slaps my ass. He continues to praise while gripping like he’s claiming every inch of me in this moment.
“It’s right there mama. Give it here. I earned it,” he groans into my neck right be for biting me like he’s marking me.
The tension snaps through me like lightning. I gasp against his lips. My body trembles as pleasure washes over me in waves. He follows close behind groaning my name like it’s a vow.
I feel his release empty in me as mine covers his stomach. A man of his word, he swipes some and licks it from his fingers. I kiss him again, eager to taste myself on his tongue. It’s delicious every time.
For a few seconds we just breathe. My forehead rests against his. His hands stay locked on my waist.
“You got a little reckless getting us here,” I tease softly, even as my voice shakes. “I need you alive to marry me.”
He laughs before pecking my lips.
“Engaged life already wild,” he says softly.
“Just wait until I’m your wife.”
He lets a mixture of a groan laced with laughter. I slide off him careful to hold every drop of him in me. I plan to ride his face when we get in the house. I smooth my dress down, adjusting myself like we didn’t just turn the garage into something out of a porno.
He fixes himself too, shaking his head slightly.
“You dangerous,” he tells me.
I reach for the door handle, glancing back at him with a slow, satisfied smile.
“You proposed to me,” I remind him. “You signed up for this.”
And as we step out of the car and head toward the elevator with his hand at the small of my back, I know one thing for sure. The night isn’t even close to over.