Chapter 12 Santino #4
I drag her across the seat until she’s straddling my lap. She settles over me, her knees spread wide on either side of my hips, that scrap of silk riding up to her waist, baring her completely. I wedge her between the steering wheel and my chest, two fingers sliding into her dripping pussy.
“Feel this,” I growl, taking her wrist and pressing her palm to the front of my slacks.
My cock is a steel bar beneath the fabric, pulsing with every heartbeat.
“That’s what you did to me back there. Sitting on my lap like a fucking tease, bare pussy rubbing my dick through my slacks until I was leaking like a teenager. ”
She whimpers, fingers curling around the outline of my shaft, squeezing. “Santino—”
“Touch me.” My voice is gravel. “Now.”
Her hands shake as she works my belt, the clink of metal loud in the confined space. The zipper rasps down; my cock springs free, slick with precum that’s been dripping since the poker table. She wraps her fingers around me and strokes once, twice, spreading the wetness from root to crown.
“You feel how hard you made me? I was dying to bend you over that table and fuck you raw in front of them. To show them who you belong to.”
“I need to tell you something important,” she whispers in between strokes of my cock. “I’m not a virgin.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I mutter.
I grip her ass with both hands, lift her clear of the console—her knees knocking the gear shift—and line her up over my cock.
“Please—” She tries to sink down, but I hold her suspended, teasing her entrance with shallow dips that stretch her open just enough. She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders.
Then I drag her down, impaling her in one brutal drop, her soaked heat swallowing every inch. The sound she makes—half scream, half sob—is pure filth. Her pussy clamps around me like a fist, velvet heat sucking me in, rippling along every inch as I bottom out.
She’s so fucking tight, the slickness of her walls milking me with every pulse. I can feel her heartbeat fluttering around my cock, the wet heat of her arousal dripping down my balls, pooling on the leather seat beneath us.
“Fuck, Liana—” I grip her ass, spreading her wider, watching my cock disappear into her again and again as I lift and drop her.
Each thrust punches the air from her lungs, her tits bouncing in the plunging neckline, nipples hard.
“You’re so fucking perfect. Taking me like you were made for it.
Feel that?” I grind up, rolling my hips so the head of my cock drags over that spot inside her.
She convulses, inner muscles fluttering wildly.
“That’s where I live now. Buried deep inside you. ”
I set a punishing rhythm, fucking up into her with short, brutal strokes that make the suspension creak.
Every slap of skin on skin is wet, obscene, her wetness coating my shaft.
I slide one hand between us, thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight circles until she’s shaking, tears of overstimulation glistening on her lashes.
“Santino—please—can’t—”
“You can.” I pinch her clit lightly, and she detonates.
"Oh God," she moans loudly. "Santo, I'm going to—"
"Come for me," I demand. "Right now."
Her orgasm rips through her like a seizure—pussy locking down, gushing around my cock, soaking my pants. The clench is vicious, dragging me over the edge with her. I roar her name as I come deep inside her, filling her until it leaks out around my shaft, streaking her thighs.
We stay locked together, panting, my cock still twitching with aftershocks inside her fluttering heat. I can feel every pulse of her walls, every drop of our combined release dripping from where we’re joined.
“Next time you want my attention,” I murmur against her sweat-damp throat, “you text me a picture of you like this. Not walk into a room full of wolves with your pussy bare and my name on your lips.”
She laughs breathlessly, clenching around me again. Then she carefully climbs off me, adjusting her dress with shaking hands.
I fix my clothes mechanically, watching her, waiting to see what comes next.
"Can I take you to my place?" I ask.
She's checking her appearance in the visor mirror, finger-combing her messy hair. "Which place?"
"My apartment." I button my pants, tucking in my shirt. "We're not done yet. Not even close."
"Oh." She finds her purse on the floor, checking inside it. "Actually, I should probably get home."
I stop moving. "What?"
"I should go home." She pulls out her phone, checking the time with a casual glance. "It's really late."
"So? Come home with me." It's not a request.
"I can't." She's typing something on her phone now, not looking at me. "I have to be at the senior center at seven tomorrow morning. I promised Dorothy I'd bring her those specific pastries she likes from the bakery on the corner. You know how elderly people get if you're late or forget."
I stare at her in complete disbelief. "You want to go home? Right now."
"Well, yes. I need to get home, shower, sleep." She looks up from her phone finally. "Why? Did you want me to go home with you?"
"Yes," I say, incredulous. "Obviously yes. We just—in my car—and now you want to go home?"
"Oh! Sorry. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?" She tilts her head like she doesn't understand. "I just figured we both got what we needed, and I have that early morning commitment, so..."
"Liana." I'm trying desperately to process this. "You tracked me down at a poker game. Interrupted important business. Sat in my lap. And now you're just going home like it meant nothing?"
"Yes?" She says it like a question, like she doesn't understand why this is confusing. "Is that weird? I thought this was normal."
"Yes! That's extremely weird! None of this is normal!"
"Why?" She's completely calm, infuriatingly composed. "We're both adults. We both clearly wanted this. Now I have to go home and sleep. What's weird about that?"
"Everything," I say, running my hand through my disheveled hair. "Everything about this entire situation is weird."
"Well, I had fun." She leans over and kisses my cheek—quick and casual and dismissive. "Thanks for... you know. This."
Thanks for this. Like I'm some service she just used.
"You're thanking me," I repeat in disbelief.
"Is that wrong?" She's already opening the car door. "Sorry, I'm not great at this whole casual thing. Was I supposed to say something else?"
Casual. She thinks this was casual sex.
“Would you mind dropping me off at home?” she asks.
“No, of course not.” I start the car and pull back onto the road.
The silence stretches, thick and impossible. My hands are still shaking from touching her, from having her. She’s staring out the window like none of it happened—like I imagined every sound she made, every breath against my neck.
I want to ask what changed in the span of a heartbeat, but I already know she’ll make it sound simple.
When I pull up in front of her home, I open my car door to help her out. By the time I make it around the back of the car, she’s already out and hurrying toward the front door.
“Liana, wait—”
"Text me tomorrow!" she calls back over her shoulder. "We should figure out dinner plans for next week!"
Then she's gone, already slipping inside.
I sit in my car. Alone. Shirt unbuttoned.
What the fuck was that?
She tracked me down using a GPS device she secretly planted on my car. Showed up half-naked at a dangerous poker game. Sat in my lap in front of violent criminals. Let me fuck her in the car.
And then walked away like it was absolutely nothing.
I'm confused beyond belief.
And still wanting her even though she just walked away from me.
I lean my head back against the leather seat, closing my eyes.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
A text from Liana.
Liana: Thanks for tonight! Sorry I had to rush off. Volunteering waits for no one! See you soon!
She ends it with a heart emoji. A cheerful little heart.
She sends me a heart emoji after having sex with me in the front seat of a sports car and then abandoning me.
I type back: We need to talk about what just happened.
Three dots appear immediately. Then disappear. Then appear again. She's thinking about how to respond.
Liana: What do you mean? We already talked at the poker game. Everything's fine! Sleep well!
Everything's fine.
She thinks everything's fine. Like this is normal behavior. I drop the phone on the seat beside me, unable to formulate a response.
I'm in serious trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.