After the Cool Down A Run Club Hookup Erotica #5
They sat in the front like they were talking about splits until two more cars pulled out. Then Riley climbed into the back because the front seats had a console and she was not sixteen, she was 26 and she wanted room for her knees.
Nate followed. Doors locked. Windows already a little fogged from the run.
The car smelled like rubber mats and his laundry and her sweat.
Riley pulled him in by the shirt and kissed him the way she had in the stairwell, except now she knew what he felt like inside her and the kiss had no pretense left.
“Can I put my hand under your shorts.”
“Yes.”
His fingers slid up the inner thigh and found her already wet, because the last two miles had not been only about the river. She sucked in a breath and pushed the shorts aside herself. Cramped. Her shoulder on the door. One heel braced on the seat back.
“Can I fuck you in here.”
“Yes. Fast. Clothes stay on as much as they can. You don’t finish. If someone walks by you stop.”
“Got it.”
She freed him from the running shorts. Hard. The angle was ugly and perfect. Riley held him and sank down as much as the back seat allowed, a tight shove that made both of them swear. Full. Immediate. The car creaked.
Nate fucked her in short sloppy strokes because there was no room for the long ones. Her bra was still on, soaked through, nipples obvious when his chest dragged it. She bit his shoulder to keep the sound down and failed anyway. Wet. Fast. The windows went opaque.
“That’s it. Don’t you be careful. Just don’t cum.”
He wasn’t careful. His hand braced on the back window.
Hers fisted the headrest. A 24 year old still in his race bib string and a 26 year old with grass on her calves, hooked up in a run club parking lot like the river loop had been foreplay.
Riley rubbed her clit with two fingers shoved between them and came quick, mean, clenching on his cock in the tight space.
She laughed into his throat after, wrecked and a little stunned at herself.
He kept moving, shaking.
“Close,” he warned.
“Then slow down. Stay in. I like it.”
He slowed. Buried. Both of them breathing like the last sprint. Riley looked at the fogged glass and the sliver of lot still visible and felt his cock twitch and held still on purpose.
A trunk slammed two rows over.
They froze.
Voices. A laugh. Someone yelling that they had forgotten a cooler. Keys. Another slam.
Riley dropped her forehead to Nate’s and shook with silent laughter, still full of him, shorts shoved aside, a bib string cutting her wrist where she had grabbed him.
“Do not move,” she whispered.
He did not move. The voices passed the hood and faded toward the cafe. A car started. Left.
Riley clenched around him once, filthy and amused, and then lifted off before the joke turned into getting caught for real.
The empty made her hiss. She tucked him back into his shorts with a sympathy pat that made him curse, fixed her own waistband, and climbed into the front like her legs were reliable.
They sat there. Fogged windows. Pulse in her throat and lower. Club stragglers still out by the grass.
“Saturday long run is on the calendar,” she said to the windshield. “I’m going.”
“I’m going.”
“Your place after. I’m tired of being the one with the pasta.” She glanced at him. “That’s not a relationship speech. That’s geography.”
Nate dragged a hand down his face and smiled at the steering wheel. “Can I text you the address.”
“Yes.”
Riley opened the door onto cool morning air that hit the wet spot on her shorts and made her very aware of what they had just done. She stood, stretched her quads like that was all this had been, and walked toward her own car with grass on her shoes and his smell on her mouth.
Behind her, Nate started the engine and let the defroster eat the fog.
Neither of them had finished in the back seat.
Saturday would.
Nate’s building smelled like someone else’s dryer sheets and old stairwell paint.
Riley followed him up two flights with her gym bag still on her shoulder, Tuesday’s river loop still in her legs, the unfinished heat from the back seat sitting low in her belly.
Twenty-six years old and done pretending she only wanted geography.
He unlocked 2B. She stepped in, shut the door, and dropped the bag.
His place was smaller than hers. Cleaner than she had expected. Running shoes in a line. A couch that had seen better years. Sheets on the bed already made, like he had hoped.
“Ask me to stay,” she said.
“Can you stay.”
“Yes.” She pulled her shirt off over her head. Sports bra still damp from the morning. “I want your mouth. Then I want you in me. Then I want you to cum in me. You check that last part when we get there.”
Nate nodded once. “Can I take the rest of it off.”
“Yes.”
They left a trail that was shorter than her apartment’s. His bedroom got the west light. Riley sat on the edge of his mattress, bounced once to feel it, and hooked her fingers in his waistband.
“On your knees first,” she said. “I got off in a parking lot and I still feel cheated.”
He went to his knees on his own rug. She opened her legs.
He asked with his eyes and she said yes, and then his mouth was on her pussy in a room that smelled like his soap instead of hers.
Riley planted her heels on the frame and watched a 24 year old lick her like the car had only been a draft.
Slow at first. Then greedy when she told him to stop being polite.
She came on his tongue with a fist in his hair and his name said into his ceiling, thighs shaking around his ears.
She pulled him up before he could start again.
“Bed. On your back. I want my knees high.”
He went. She shoved his shorts off, took his cock in her hand, and straddled him only long enough to get him wet. Then she rolled, pulled him over her, and hooked her knees toward her own shoulders.
“Ask.”
“Can I fuck you like this.”
“Yes. Deep. I want to feel it in my stomach.”
Nate pushed in and the angle made her swear. Deeper than the counter. Deeper than the shower. She was still swollen from a night and a morning and a cramped back seat, and he still had to work for the last inch. When his hips met her she saw white for a second and laughed at herself, wrecked.
“Hold. That’s—give me a second.”
He held, buried, shaking. Riley breathed through the stretch and nodded.
“Now. Don’t you go gentle just because the sheets are yours.”
He fucked her like that. Knees high. The wet slap back in a way the car had not allowed.
His headboard hit the wall and he did not apologize.
Riley watched his face and watched where they joined and put her hand on her lower belly as if she could feel him from the outside.
A 26 year old in a 24 year old’s bed, taking him to the root on a Tuesday that had started with a river.
“I’m close,” she said. “Stay on this. Don’t change it.”
He stayed on it. She came hard, pulsing around his cock, heels digging into his back. He groaned and kept the same deep rhythm while she shook, lasting because she had not given him the last permission yet.
Riley grabbed his jaw.
“Now we do the last thing. I want your cum in my pussy. Not on me. Not in my mouth. In me. If you don’t want that, you pull out and we do it the old way. I will not be mad.”
Nate’s strokes stuttered. “I want it. You sure.”
“I’m sure. Ask me again while you’re in me.”
“Can I cum in you.”
“Yes. Fill me up. Do it now.”
He drove in and came.
Riley felt it. Heat. Thick pulses shoved high, his whole body gone rigid over her, a sound he buried in her neck.
She locked her legs and took it, greedy, the specific filthy satisfaction of a man finishing where she had told him to after a week of making him wait.
His cock jerked. She clenched to keep it.
When he tried to apologize for how hard he was shaking she kissed the apology off his mouth.
“Stay in.”
He stayed. Softening by degrees, still leaking into her, her knees slowly lowering to his waist. West light on the wall. His sheets under her back. She could feel his cum start to slip when he shifted, warm, and she made an unhappy noise and held him there longer.
“That’s what the car didn’t get,” she said into his hair. “Remember that when you’re smug about Saturday.”
Nate huffed a laugh against her tit. “Saturday’s the long run.”
“I know.” She stroked the back of his neck. “I’m still going. You’re still going. Then we come back here or we go to mine. I’m wearing your shirt until I have to put my bra back on. That’s not a speech either.”
He reached without leaving her and dragged a soft shirt off a chair.
Riley let him help it over her head. It smelled like him.
Too big in the shoulders. She stayed on her back in it with his cock slipping free at last and his cum leaking onto his own sheets, 26 years old and uninterested in pretending this had been one night.
Nate lay on his side and put two fingers against her, not to start again, just to feel the mess. She let him.
“River loop was easy,” she said to his ceiling. “Saturday won’t be. Don’t you wait for me after the first mile if I’m slow.”