18. Casper #2
I merge onto the freeway as she turns the radio up and starts singing along to some new song that I don’t recognize. We should be going straight here for twenty-ish miles. The stage is all hers.
The song changes, something more sensual and racier taking its place. She dances to it, swaying her body and turning to me. With two fingers, she prances them from my wrist, up my arm, and onto my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” My question leaves me as she reaches down and unbuckles her seat belt.
She shushes me as she lifts and bends her legs, kneeling in the seat to face me.
“Mona, put your seat belt on.”
“Shh. I’m talking right now.” She puts her hand over my mouth, and I try to ignore the way my cock twitches in my jeans at her confidence.
Sitting up taller, she moves the hand over my mouth around the top of my shoulder and behind my neck, sliding her other one across my chest until her lips are hovering against my ear.
She exhales, her warm breath sending tingles down my neck. “I like you so goddamn much, Casper. It consumes me.”
Oh my fucking God.
My cock pulses, all of my blood pooling straight to it. Inhaling, she breathes me in, and I have to try incredibly hard to focus on the road.
“You should get in your seat.” My voice does little to hide the effect she’s having on me, and if anything, it’s only making her more feral and crazed.
The tip of her tongue flicks out, running up the shell of my ear, and I shudder, my jeans getting tighter by the second.
“I think”—she flicks her tongue against my earlobe—“you should focus on driving, Spooky Boy.”
Her fingers trail down the sweater on my chest, and even through the knit material, I can feel her scorching touch. Lower and lower she goes until she hits the waistband of my pants. Sliding her hand out from my shoulder, she drops her elbows to the center console and pops her ass in the air.
“Hmm, what do we have here?” she asks.
I don’t know whether to pull the car over and tie her up in the back seat so I can focus on getting her home, or pull over to fuck her goddamn brains out.
Stealthily, she undoes the button of my jeans, and I tighten my fists on the steering wheel.
“Mona, I’ve got to drive here. You’re making that very difficult.”
“You want to keep me safe, right?” she asks, her breath curling up in the opening of my zipper.
I nod sharply.
This is so ungodly dangerous, reckless, all the fucking words.
“Good, then don’t crash,” she hums, her fingers slipping into the fly of my boxers and gently cradling my balls.
“You’re drunk,” I tell her, debating on if I’m taking advantage of her. But I think, if anything right now, she’s taking advantage of me. “You don’t need to do anything for me, Mona.”
Leaning down, she presses a kiss against my lower abs before staring up at me through hooded eyes. “I’m well aware. And I’m not drunk. Tipsy? Yes. Let me enjoy this. I want to do it.”
I don’t stop her as she brushes her thumb up the base of my shaft. “Fuck, baby.”
Carefully, she unsheathes my length through the fly, my dick bouncing off her cheek, and I have to force my eyes open wider as her tongue flicks out, running along the side of my tip.
There’s no hesitation or doubt in her movements, nothing other than curiosity and need. Her fingers fist my length, and she shifts her head further, taking the first inch into her warm, wet mouth.
Swirling over and over, she tastes the top before popping it out of her mouth and going again.
She’s exploring my body, and I can’t help but wonder if this is the first time she’s done this without coercion.
Taking her time, she works me deeper into her mouth, inch by inch, until I can feel the back of her throat.
She breathes around me, and the cool air amplifies every sensation.
“Oh my God, Mona,” I grind out through my teeth, focusing on the white lines zooming past as we fly down the freeway, my cock in her mouth.
She giggles around me and takes me deeper, pushing herself until her back rounds out and she gags. Lifting up to the tip, she catches her breath before going back down.
Centering my left hand on the top of the steering wheel, I sink the fingers of my right hand into her hair as she takes another inch into her mouth. The adrenaline is spiking in my system, and it’s making everything over-fucking-whelming in the best of ways.
“Oh, come on, Scaredy-Cat. You can take more than that.” I fist her hair, and her back arches deeper. She’s enjoying this. “You tap on my leg if you need me to stop, okay?”
She nods, and I shift in her mouth from the movement.
“God, you are my good fucking girl, aren’t you? My perfect fucking girl.” I guide her head down until I feel resistance. There’s plenty more for her to take, but we’ll work on that when we’re not in a moving car. “Stick your tongue out further, baby. It’ll help with the reflex.”
She does as I suggested, and I push her head down more before guiding her up and back down, until she feels the rhythm right along with me. God, she has no fucking idea how sexy she is or how fast she’s going to make me come.
She moans around my shaft, and I groan, the sound filling the space around us. Once she’s comfortable with the pace, I push her, making her take more of me into her mouth.
“There you go. Fuuuck, baby. You’re going to make me come if you keep that up.”
The speed is perfect—both of her mouth and of my car. Our exit sign comes into view. Half a mile. And I’m not even sure if I’ll last that long at this rate. This girl has me wrapped around every single one of her fingers.
I don’t care about the passing cars and the people who can see her head in my lap. They can fucking watch for all I care. I’ll show them all that she is mine.
Wet squelching sounds overpower the music around us as she coats me repeatedly. She gags, but she doesn’t stop, not for more than a second. Fuck, I can’t take much more of this.
Her left hand takes the place of her right around my shaft as her right fingers slide across my balls and cup them, massaging enough to make me see fucking heaven.
“Oh shit,” I grunt, my hips bucking of their own accord to meet her mouth. “Just like that.”
She hums again, and the vibration sends me to the moon.
“Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I whimper, keeping her head in place as my cum spurts down her throat.
She sucks harder, and between exploding into a million pieces and focusing enough to turn off on our exit, I’ve ascended to a new high.
She sucks every drop out of me, only lifting her head when the rolling waves are done pulsing in her mouth. Flattening her tongue against my shaft, she runs it once more up my length, letting it fall against my abs as she rights herself, sliding her arms back around my shoulders and collarbone.
I can feel her smile against my cheek as she murmurs, “I bet that was good, huh?”
Cocky little shit.
But, fuck, she’s not wrong.
“It was the best head I’ve ever had. Ever.” I turn right at the next light, bringing us into the community where The Schrader House sits.
“Don’t just say that,” she groans, slowly pulling from my torso.
But I lash out, snaking my arm around her waist and holding her in place.
“Uh-uh. Where do you think you’re going?” I squeeze her tighter. “Nothing compares to the things we do together. I mean it, Mona. Hockey is better with you. Life is better with you. Everything is better with you.”
I pull along the curb, parking my car and turning to face her, cupping her cheek with my free hand. Her green eyes are upturned and raw.
Three words bubble up on the tip of my tongue, and I want to say them so fucking badly. But I also don’t want it to happen in my car after she just gave me a blow job and she’s a little tipsy. Absolutely not.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
She perks up at my words. “You’re staying?”
“You want me to, right?” I double-check.
She nods, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.
“Then I’m staying,” I state matter-of-factly.
She’s giddy as she rushes out of the car door and meets me outside with a shit-eating grin on her face.
The second she nears me, I scoop her up in my arms, loving every moment having her eyes glued to mine.
I steal glances down at her as I carry her inside, guiding her into the empty house and up to the third floor.
Something catches my eye on the floor across from her room—a picture frame.
Maybe the ghost is mad that we were out late.
I laugh to myself as I open her door and tuck us away inside.
I strip to my boxers, and I help her change into pajamas, the wine hitting her harder now.
To be fair, she chugged the other half of her glass before we left.
She giggles as I help her into bed.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever felt safe drinking around. Thank you.” Her voice is lighthearted and playful, her words anything but.
Tears fucking well in my eyes at the thought of all she’s had to endure, of the fact that I’m the first person she’s felt safe with.
I’m honored, truly, but angry that the world dealt her such a hard hand of cards.
I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to making damn sure that she’s taken care of, that she never has to do anyone favors for food or shelter or sleep in her car or anything that she doesn’t truly want to do.
When I slide into bed beside her, I tuck her head in the crook of my neck, my arm snaking around her waist and pulling her close.
I breathe her in, filling every inch of my lungs with her aroma.
I’m certain, without a single doubt in the world, that I’m desperately, pathetically, and irrevocably in love with Mona Greer.