22. Gear Shift #2
If this is a one-night thing, if this is the only chance I’m going to get, I’m going to enjoy him. And if there’s a possibility of more? Let’s just say, I’m going to make sure I get asked to do that overtime.
My hand is on his knee for all of two seconds before I slip it to his inner thigh, wrapping fingers tight across the muscle, sinking them deep. A little moan ekes out of him, straight into my mouth, and I devour it.
Fuck, the way I’m going to devour more than that.
But this car is so bloody tiny. The roof is so low, and how the hell am I supposed to do anything?
Needs must.
Refusing to break the kiss, twisting in his arms, I climb on top of him, throwing my knee over his.
“Recline it,” I beg against his lips.
He slams a hand down the side of his seat, and I hear it thumping around, searching. The chair creaks, and in one quick movement, it slides back… roughly an inch.
“More!” I insist, easing my leg over his, head pressing into the roof, but determined to do this, his kisses coming just as desperate as mine, the taste of him all coffee and wealth and Archer. Handsome, gorgeous Archer, mine, if only for tonight.
But to my horror, he replies, “That’s it.” Apology thick in his voice, he adds, “It’s an old model. They don’t really recline.”
It’s a whine—an actual whine—that escapes me.
Archer laughs. He laughs that warm laugh I love, a smile in his kiss. “Why don’t we… Should we go inside?”
“No!” I snap. He pulls back a little, and only a little, because it’s all the movement he has. “No. Please,” I breathe out, kissing him again, two hands fisting that cashmere jumper that maybe I shouldn’t be crumpling, but it feels so nice. “Please, I… I like your car, Mr Gravely.”
“Oh, fuck,” he whispers. “Liam, every time you call me that…” His fingers dig into my waist, holding me to him, sending a tingle up my spine. “It does things to me.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Is that right?”
“Liam…” There’s a touch of warning in his tone, and a scandalous grin that reveals two rows of the most beautiful white teeth.
I want him to sink them into me.
“Then tell me what this does to you.” I wrap my hand around his dick, already straining hard for me through his jeans, and he lets out the most delicious groan, tightening his hold on me.
“I think we should—”
I cut him off with a kiss, running my fingers down his length once, twice, wrapping them tighter as I bring them up and start working his belt buckle.
“Here?” he whispers.
“Right here,” I whisper back. “I can’t wait. I can’t wait another minute.”
“Ah, fuck. You’re…” I wrench his jeans open, slide my hand into his underwear and take hold of his naked cock, watching his head tip back and his eyes shut tight as I begin to work him.
He’s gorgeous like this—his cheekbones cut sharp by the streetlights, his lips parted in pleasure.
The things I’d do with him if we just had a little more space…
I press back, hoping I can slide down between his legs, but the steering wheel jabs into my back rudely, like it’s offended I’m trying to give its owner a blowjob right in front of it.
Archer doesn’t let me move anyway. His fingers curl around my ass, pulling me forward for another kiss.
Then his other hand slides over my hip, up along my ribs, over my chest, and the buckle of my overalls clicks loose.
He’s got the other side open in a trice, dropping the straps back over my shoulders.
Both hands on my ass again, he rocks me forward, pulsing his cock into my grasp. And god, I just need a few more inches of headroom and I would be on top of him. Riding him in his car. Just the thought of it is so hot I almost spill in my pants.
I need his dick in my mouth right now. I squeeze a hand into his shoulder for stability and slip back, trying for a steeper angle this time, but miscalculate catastrophically. My ass hits the centre of the wheel, and the horn blares loudly, horribly into the still night.
I freeze, perfectly mortified.
He freezes, head tilted as if expecting the shout of a police officer coming to arrest us for gross indecency.
But when no sound replies, he cracks a gorgeous smile and wrenches me back down onto his lap.
His kisses move to my neck, the teeth I’d wished for digging in, biting, sending a wave of electricity to every nerve in my body.
His hands are tugging down my overalls now, ripping the front open when he realises they button up.
And Archer’s hand is on my dick, wrapping tight, thumb on my slit, and fuck it feels good.
I let out a hard breath of air, and he catches it with his lips, kissing me, kissing the sounds away as he strokes me, as I stroke him.
He’s got that hand on my ass, pulling me forward again and again in a rhythm that’s like I’m fucking him. Oh, Christ, how I wish I was fucking him.
Archer’s hips thrust upwards, thrusting his cock into my palm over and over until I feel his fingers curl across the back of my hand, releasing one side of my dick. Until I feel it press against his.
Fucking hell. He’s so warm, and he’s dripping for me, and he yanks me in and moves me against his cock, and “Archer,” I gasp out, followed by a loud and pleasured groan I couldn’t stifle if I wanted to.
“Fuck me,” he whispers.
It’s the closest I can get right now, and it’s all I want in the world.
I shift forward, fucking into his warm hand that wraps my cock so well, wraps his, holds me against him with the most delicious friction, tight and warm and wet. And, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Liam,” he rasps.
I only realise I’ve closed my eyes when I open them again to see the way he’s looking at me. Like I am beautiful. More than beautiful. Precious. Desirable. But desirable in a way that goes beyond a quick fuck in the front seat of his tiny car.
I want him. I want him not just now, but tomorrow too.
I want him in his kitchen, like he was this morning.
Waiting for me in the sunshine. I want his soft jokes and his knowing looks.
I want his tea and danishes. I want to give this a shot with Archer.
Whatever this is. I don’t want it to be just sex.
Even if this sex is so incredible already.
Pushing up on my thighs, grinding my dick against his, I whisper, “Do you like me working for you?”
“I like everything about you,” he breathes. “I’ve wanted you since the second you walked in. Look at you. You’re so fucking hot it kills me.”
The compliments wash over me in almost as intense a wave of pleasure as his hand is creating, moving faster now, working the both of us into a frenzy.
“There are so many things I can do for you, Archer. I want to do all of them.”
“Oh fuck. Liam.” His words cut off with a tremble of his lips, his breathing fast now, his every muscle tensing.
And I can feel it too. I’m close. I’m getting so close.
And I don’t want him to stop. Not for anything.
Not tonight. Not tomorrow. This man is walking sexual energy and now he’s mine and this cannot end tonight.
Even if it’s against my better judgement, as if I have such a thing as judgement at all anymore with this pleasure screaming through my veins, this intense desire heating every inch of me, I want something more from him.
I want a guarantee. I want a promise. And the question just slips out: “Will you make me breakfast tomorrow?”
“Oh, Liam,” he rasps as I take hold of his shoulder and thrust my dick along his, sliding into the movement of his hand caressing mine, moving mine, stroking us both, faster and faster. “Liam, I’ll do anything you like. I want to be your personal slut.”
“Oh, fuck!” His words send a shock of ecstasy through me, and I lose control in the instant. Letting out a too-loud groan, I crumple against him, my body shaking with the orgasm, cum spilling all over his beautiful, soft cashmere jumper.
“Fuck, oh, fuck,” he cries, fingers squeezing into my back, holding me to him as his own orgasm rips out of him, his gorgeous strong arms shuddering, his forehead landing on my shoulder.
The satisfaction hits me first, deep and sure, knowing I made him come at the same time. Knowing he got off just like I did. Knowing he wants me. That he’s making me breakfast. That I’m…
Okay, I’m not his boyfriend.
Not yet.
But I kiss him like I am. I kiss him, feeling the press of the delicate layer of sweat on his upper lip, feeling the way his hand runs over my back, gently, sweetly, moving to my cheek when he breaks the kiss to look up at me. “You’re incredible.”
Whatever I was a few minutes ago, saying all those things, fucking him right here on the street in his car, now I’m… I don’t know. Shy. Embarrassed. Touched. Spent. Completely, utterly, irreparably enamoured. “Thank you, Mr Gravely.”
He gives me another one of those cute chuckles as I slide off him, back into my seat, and re-affix the buckles on my overalls. Then I lean over, drop one last peck on his lips, and say, “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he says, his smile some delicious mix of shock and adoration, like I couldn’t have imagined seeing in his eyes only yesterday.
I want to take that to bed with me, so I slip out the door before he can say another word, before I can ruin this with some daft comment, and dart down the side of the building and out of his sight.
I feel like a lovesick teenager when I instantly thrust my back up against the brick wall, breathing hard, knees weak, almost entirely overcome with this… What do they call it? Limerence? This insane, heady madness that has me wanting to carve his name into my arm.
He’s beautiful. God damn, I am so desperately looking forward to work tomorrow.
Best job ever, no doubt about it.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. And if it’s Archer with some sweet message, I’ll die. Actually die. Drop dead on the ground right here and haunt this block of flats for the rest of time.
God, I have it so bad for him.
I whip the screen on in record time, only for the words there to smash my lovely evening all to pieces.
7am. Ted. >:(