Chapter Thirteen #2
“Why, Grinder,” she starts with a weird accent I’m guessing is supposed to be a southern drawl, except it sounds like she’s been living in the deepest corners of Texas instead of the North Carolina coastline.
At this point, it’s no longer a drawl, it’s skimming the edges of incest. “Are you tryin’ to seduce me? ”
I should be turned off yet here I am, harder than riding a bike in the snow while doing a handstand.
“Might be. I’ll know for sure if you lick it and the tip offers you a bead…
of cum.” I smirk, knowing I’ve probably just shocked her back into her seat.
Which is fine, I’m a persistent motherfucker.
One day, the combination of my good looks, charm, and enough Latino ancestry on my mother’s side to warrant her calling me Diego, will bring her to her knees.
Obviously in the literal sense, otherwise, what the fuck am I even doing on this Earth?
Except this woman can’t and won’t be put in a box. In fact, she will actively blow the box up and come out laughing maniacally like some kind of super villain who’s just one upped the hero.
In a move I did not expect, although I hoped really fucking hard for it, she brings her face right up to my cock, the steering wheel just inches away from her deep-red hair.
A fucking army of doped up clowns couldn’t get me to move and I will drive this fucking truck into the goddamn ocean if it means her lips or tongue or, fuck it, just a whisper from her mouth, touches my dick.
I’m already holding my breath, anticipating the touchdown, so may as well go for fucking broke.
Chancing a glance below, I’m a tiny bit disappointed that her hair is hiding the erotic scene happening at crotch level.
My brain is searching for a way to get a visual, but aside from stopping on the side of the road and alerting the entire fucking clubhouse that I’m getting blown by the VP’s little sister—holy fuck, I’m going to Hell and I don’t fucking care—I come up with nothing.
The moment she blows on the tip of my dick, I almost run off the road when my hand jerks to the right.
This isn’t my first road head, far from it.
Hell, I once got blown on my bike by a contortionist who performed for the biggest circus in the world.
Allegedly. All I know is that I came in her mouth while doing ninety on the highway.
This is amateur hour on my part, but for some fucking reason, the idea that Parker’s breath is brushing against my dick makes me so hard it’s painful.
“Darlin’, you’re playin’ with fire right about now. Might I suggest you either deepthroat or go back to your seat?” If she chooses the latter option, we have a chance of making it to the beach without dying in a big ball of fire after crashing into any number of gas stations on this road.
Although, how poetic would our epitaph be? “They met and died near the regular unleaded going at about three dollars a gallon. May they rest in the fiery balls of Hell.”
I don’t have time to chuckle at my own internal musings because Parker does the exact opposite of what I expect, and dear baby Jayzus in a manger, my mind goes completely blank.
The moment her mouth becomes the tunnel for my cock, my neurons fire in all directions and my ability to drive flies out the window right along with my morals and long-lasting friendship with Sledge.
That last part is salvageable, but the first part? Well…what morals?
“Fuck, Stabby, you’re gonna make me crash.” I’m talking through gritted teeth, trying really fucking hard to control that last stubborn neuron holding down my motor skills.
Keep eyes open.
Go in a straight line.
Stop at the red light.
Stop at the red light.
Stop…FUCK!
I just ran through a light, and by the skin of my balls, we don’t get T-boned by cross traffic.
Hell, I didn’t even take my foot off the fucking gas.
Meanwhile, Parker is sucking on my dick like she’s setting her own personal record of making me come faster than a preteen at his first stripper party.
“FYI, we almost died.” I don’t know why I feel the need to share that. What’s the point of her stopping now? She may as well bring it home for the win.
Instead of freaking out—I should know her better by now—she snakes her hand into my jeans and cups my balls. That last neuron checks out completely and thank fuck for small mercies, we’ve arrived at our beach, where the parking lot is big enough and empty enough I don’t need any skills to park.
A quick check in the rearview tells me we’ve got a minute tops before the fucking cavalry rides up and drills me a new hole. Better make the best of it.
Turning off the ignition, my hand goes straight for her head, my fingers curling in that gorgeous mass of red strands. Then I push her down and when she starts choking on my cock, I lean back against the head rest.
Fuck, that feels so goddamn good. I’m thrusting up into her throat and she’s squeezing my balls to the point of pain. Beautiful, delicious, pain. And when her nails scrape that thin, sensitive skin between my base and my asshole, I lose my fucking mind.
Gasping deep, I let everything go. I come straight into her mouth, groaning deep from within my chest as my hips freeze mid thrust. My limbs are like jelly, no longer holding Parker down, so when her mouth slowly slides up my cock and her tongue circles my tip and licks me clean, I get a full body shiver.
The moment she sits back up, the cool air of early April is like a slap to my balls. Yet, I don’t fucking care.
Cracking open one eye and turning my head to look at Parker, I know without needing a mirror that I’ve got a goofy-ass grin on my face.
“I got lots and lots of beads…of cum.” She sasses like a kitten who’s stolen the milk and blamed the dog, then licks the corner of her mouth.
Fuck. Me. Dead.
“Best blowjob ever.” I sound drunk.
Behind me, the sound of bikes and cars and screeching tires tells me the rest of the club is here. I take a mental picture of Parker for future use because I’m rather confident that Sledge is going to put me in a coma.
“What the fuck happ—” That is not Sledge coming for me and my dick goes hard all over again at the sound of Spencer’s honeyed voice at my side window. “Oh. Nevermind.” Fuck. Is that disappointment in his voice? I can’t tell, I’m too busy coming down from my high.
“You’re fuckin’ dead, Grinder. I’m gonna kill you!”
And…yup, that’s Sledge. I’m a dead man.
Totally worth it.