Chapter 29 Adrienne #2
“I like the way you handle her.” Scotty slides his hand up my thigh, his fingers warm against my skin. The feeling of the open road stretched out in front of us is freeing. I can’t stop smiling, the wind whipping through the open windows.
“She’s perfect,” I say, laying a hand on the dashboard like I’m blessing her when I’ve finally slowed back down.
“Damn right,” he says. “How’s she feel?”
“Fun, I like to feel power between my thighs.” I flash him a flirty grin and wriggle my eyebrows
“Yeah?” He laughs, reaching his hand over to push my tangled hair away from my face. The look he’s giving me gets under my skin in a second, hot and molten. He squeezes my thigh, thumb pressing into the inner seam of my jeans with enough pressure to make me swallow.
We trade off at the gravel turnout by the old irrigation ditch. He circles around the hood, taking his time appreciating the view as I walk past him. His hand snakes slowly over my waist and ass, a satisfied hum coming from him.
He gets in, adjusts the seat back several notches. He makes the car look smaller, his shoulders filling the space. He doesn’t hot-rod it like I did; instead, he just coaxes the Mustang up to speed, letting her sing.
I watch his profile, the way he squints into the light, the way his mouth tilts when he’s content. Everything about him is manly, manly in the sense that I crave. Rugged, unfiltered. I reach a hand up to rest on his shoulder, my fingers tangling in his hair. Want hits me hard, low, and certain.
“Pull onto the frontage road,” I say, my voice going husky even to my own ears.
He flicks me a glance. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He does, tires crunching over gravel before we straighten out on an empty stretch that runs parallel to the highway. Fields on one side, darkening sky on the other. No houses. No headlights..
I slide my hand to his thigh. He stiffens under my palm, then relaxes, that lazy smirk sneaking out. “What’re you up to, Barbie?”
“Showing my appreciation for quality workmanship.”
He huffs a laugh. “Keep your seatbelt on.”
I lean across the console anyway, fingers tracing the hard line beneath his fly. He’s already thickening, heat rolling off him. His breath snags when I cup him through denim.
“Adrienne.” A warning, a plea.
“Eyes on the road, baby.”
He swears under his breath. I ease the zipper down, the metal sound loud in the small space. He lifts his hips a fraction so I can work him free. His cock is hot, heavy, already leaking at the tip. My mouth waters.
“Jesus, fuck did you just lick your lips looking at my cock?” he grits, voice rougher than gravel.
I smile and sink down. The steering wheel creaks as his grip tightens. I lick him once, slow, from base to tip, tasting him. The sound that he makes has my thighs clenching together. He groans, low and helpless.
“Fuck.”
I take him into my mouth, lips sliding down, hand working what I can’t fit. He’s big and my jaw protests, but the sound he makes when I hollow my cheeks sends a rush of wet heat between my legs. The engine note blurs with his shallow, jagged breathing..
“Adrienne… baby… slow—” He breaks off, curses again, the car drifting a hair before he corrects. “Jesus, you’re gonna make me—”
I bob my head, set a rhythm, my free hand splayed on his stomach to feel the flex of his abs.
His hips jerk, then he forces them still like he’s trying not to choke me, considerate even when he’s losing it.
The thought makes me moan around him, and he thunders a desperate sound that vibrates through his chest.
“Eyes on the road,” I remind, pulling off long enough to whisper it against his skin.
He laughs, broken. “Can’t see straight.”
“Good.”
I wrap my lips around the tip, tongue flicking the underside where I know he’s sensitive.
His knuckles go white on the wheel. He’s filthy with the praise he never uses lightly.
It’s a strangled moan of “good girls, fuck, just like that, so deep.” The words make me dizzy with power and love and lust all tangled together.
His thighs go rock hard beneath my hand. His breath punches out. “Adrienne—” It’s a warning.
I take him as deep as I can, and he tips over with a raw groan, heat spilling across my tongue. I swallow, savoring him, moaning my appreciation against him.
For a few heartbeats, it’s only the sound of his gasps as he tries to catch his breath. I press a kiss to the base of him before tucking him away carefully, zipping him up with gentle fingers. He drags in air like he just outran a storm.
He signals, eases onto the shoulder, throws the car in park, and then his hand is on the nape of my neck, guiding me up. He kisses me like with gratitude and hunger and something deeper that steals my breath. When he breaks away, he touches my mouth with his thumb, tender as hell. “You okay?”
I nod, a little lightheaded, a lot turned on. “Very.”
“Seat’s not exactly ergonomic for that,” he mutters, thumb stroking my lower lip. “You tell me if anything hurts.”
Warmth floods my chest. “I will.”
He cups my face, kisses me again, slow this time, like aftercare is second nature. Then he leans back, scrubs a hand over his jaw, and laughs this low, stunned sound that makes me grin.
“What?” I ask, smoothing my skirt.
He shakes his head, still catching his breath. “Nothing. Just… you.”
“Me?”
“You’re a fucking class act. This fucking Harvard-educated, smart as hell, driven, sexiest woman alive, good girl, and then you go and suck my cock in a classic Mustang,” he says, voice gone soft and wrecked. “I don’t stand a chance. Never did.”
“And don’t ever forget it.” I tease, smiling back at him.
“Never. You’ll always be my girl.
My girl. I tuck that away, a precious thing to take out and hold later when the world tries to get loud again.
“Drive me home and I’ll show you just how much this smart, Harvard-educated good girl wants to ride your cock all night.”
I don’t have to tell him twice. He slams the car into gear, pulling out onto the road so fast my back snaps against the seat.