Chapter 47
Hutch
There are still a few lights on in the house when I pull up next door and throw the truck into park.
Hales’s car is in the driveway, so it could be her that’s still awake, and not Ginger.
But I’d gone home, tried to keep busy, and even went to bed early, thinking maybe it’d help shut my brain off.
But I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about getting my hands on her, so I got re-dressed and drove out here.
I figure if she’s asleep I can at least use the time to do a few things with the remodel.
Picking up my phone, I open up our text thread.
Hutch: You up?
I don’t have to wait long to see those three dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen.
Ginger: Yep. What’s up?
Hutch: Boys asleep?
Ginger: Finally.
Hutch: Good. Come outside. Bring that smart mouth I can’t stop thinking about and don’t bother with panties.
Bubbles pop up and disappear two times before her reply comes through. And I chuckle because it’s exactly what I expect from her.
Ginger: You think you can just show up here and snap your fingers and I’ll come running?
I can picture the little smirk tipping her lips as she types that. I grin as my cock thickens in my jeans, loving this game we play. The one where she tries to pretend she doesn’t want this, even though we both know it’s an act.
Hutch: No snap needed. You and I both know you’re already halfway downstairs. Now get your sexy ass out here.
A couple of minutes later she steps out on the porch, bathed in moonlight, in an oversized hoodie skimming her thighs, bare feet whispering across the wood.
Curly hair a mess, sleepy eyes—and fuck, I’m a goner.
Just the silhouette of her getting closer to my truck has me leaking in my boxers.
She’s so damn beautiful. Inside and out. I can’t wait to be inside her.
Warm yellow light spills into the cab when she opens the door and hoists herself inside with a little huff. She brings the scent of pine-soaked night air with her and something purely her—peaches and vanilla.
The second the door shuts behind her, I grab her wrist and drag her across the seat.
It’s clumsy—she’s all long legs, wild breath and grasping hands when she hits my side with a little oof, and I’m already on her, my mouth crashing into hers, swallowing her moan.
My tongue dives deep, hungry to taste and to claim.
She tastes like mint and mayhem and every damn thing I’ve been too scared to want.
Fisting the front of her hoodie, I jerk it up, letting it bunch at her hips, and my breath hitches at the smooth bare skin of her thighs, giving way to her perfect pussy. Her warm skin under my palm, the way she came out here like this—just like I asked—hits me hard.
“Shit, California. You’re such a good listener for me.”
She bites her lip, eyes hooded and lets out a breathy chuckle. “Turns out I am a sucker for a big cock and a pretty face.”
I lean back, enough to unbuckle my belt, the sound of metal and leather loud and deliberate in the cab. But instead of opening my jeans, I grab her hand and press it to my cock, wrapping her fingers around it through the denim.
“You feel that? How hard you make me?”
Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips and her fingers flex on me when she nods, breathless.
“Take care of it,” I rasp out, almost a whisper. “Please.”
Blinking at me, her eyes search my face.
Whatever she finds must be enough because she flicks the button on my jeans and drags the zipper down.
The usual teasing in her gaze is gone, just a quiet understanding like she sees through my desperate want and into the ache underneath.
Ache for what I don’t even know—but it’s like she knows I’m handing her something I’ve never given to anyone else.
She wraps her fingers around my length, giving me a few short strokes over my boxers before pulling my cock out. I watch her stroke the length of me, and when she swipes her thumb across the swollen crown, I shiver.
“F-Fuck,” I mutter, eyes slamming shut for a beat, my jaw clenched. My hips jerk at the delicious friction, chasing it, needing more. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, baby.”
Moving her hand in confident, slow strokes, she pulls another deep, groan from me—raw and broken, and I can’t help the iron grip I have on the steering wheel.
When my eyes meet hers, I’m undone. Every wall I’ve built to keep myself from feeling too much comes crumbling down, spreading dust in the rubble.
I feel so much just looking into her eyes, not just because her hand is on my cock and she’s working me over like she was made to do it, but than I ever imagined.
I reach up, cupping her face, hoping my eyes convey everything I can’t seem to say. Leaning in, I run my nose along her jaw, feeling her shiver with the contact of my breath on her skin.
Pressing a soft kiss to my temple, she whispers, “What do you want?”
“I need your mouth on me.” The words come out desperate and choked, but I don’t care because I am.
She nods, moving back a bit so she can help me slide my jeans down under my ass.
Then she’s on her knees on the bench, leaning over my lap, beautiful as ever.
She gathers her hair in one smooth motion; fingers looped into a fist at the nape of her neck.
But instead of holding it herself, she tips her head up, eyes focused on me and nudges my hand toward it.
My hand closes over that handful of silky red curls and something inside me damn near breaks.
Not because it’s hot as fuck—which it is.
Not because she’s on her knees for me, but because she’s keeping me grounded to her while she does it, like she somehow knows exactly what I need.
Sure, she could have grabbed a hair tie, of which there are plenty lying around this truck, but she didn’t because she knows what this moment means to me.
Her eyes never leave mine as she leans in, the contact so fucking perfect as those pillowy lips part. And that first lick—fuck. Just the tip of her tongue, soft, slow, and intentional against the underside of my cock head, that perfect, tight, sensitive spot.
“Jesus,” I breathe, my head thudding back against the headrest.
Her lips seal around me, and she sucks hard, confident and deep. No hesitation. Like she’s not just taking care of it—she’s fucking claiming my soul through my cock. Like it’s hers to handle, to soothe, and to own.
The whimper I let out is not manly in any way, shape, or form, but it’s real.
She sucks me harder, deeper, her throat constricting around me as she swallows, and I damn near lose it right then. There’s no playfulness in her movements, just intention, hunger, and her taking care of me in the best fucking way.
My hand slips into her hair, gripping, not too tight, just enough to keep her where I want her, and she lets me, lets me take over the pace, rocking my hips, guiding the pace for a few breathless moments. Then she swallows around me again and I can’t take it anymore.
Fuck, baby.” Tugging her off my cock, I bite out, “That’s enough. Get up here.”
Dragging her into my lap, she straddles me, one knee on either side of my hips, and I’m suddenly grateful for the space in this old truck—plenty of room for her, for this.
Reaching for her wrists, I put them together behind her back and then reach for my belt, pulling it through the loops. I lash it around her wrists once, then loop it through the steering wheel. I give it a quick tug to make sure it's secure.
Her breath catches, and she works her hips, sliding her silky warm slit across my dick. My eyes roll back, and she grins. Here I thought I was turning the tables on her.
My hand goes straight for her throat, pressing in just a bit on the sides, just how she likes it. It’s my turn to claim her.
Her eyes find mine; lips parted like she’s already halfway to coming. I lift her with my other hand on her hip and slide into her slick heat in one hard thrust and we both drag in a shaky breath; her from the stretch and burn, and me from…fuck, everything.
“Ride this cock,” I growl, voice shredded with need. “Fucking ride me, Ginger.”
She rocks her hips, but the movements are awkward at first from the angle at which her hands are tied, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m already fucking gone. She’s slick and hot and clenching on my cock like a vice.
I’m not sure if it’s because she’s already close to coming or if she doesn’t want to lose the connection.
Her hair is wild around her shoulders, sticking to her cheeks, her neck. Her head falls back, mouth open, panting, and its goddamn music to my ears.
I tighten my grip on her throat, just enough to create that delicious euphoria I know she craves. I hold her steady, keep her grounded and here with me while she uses her perfect peachy cunt to ruin my cock for anyone else.
Her hips slam down again and again, the rhythm perfect in its brutality.
I swear I almost black out. I can’t pull in a full breath, can’t think straight.
She leans in, breath warm against my mouth, “You’re close.
I can feel it. So fucking deep.” Her lips barely brushing mine, she whispers, “Let go for me, Hutch. Fill me up. I need to feel you come.”
“You want my cum, baby?” I manage.
She licks her lips. “Mmhm…”
I thrust deeper, teeth gritted. “Then say it, filthy girl.”
“I want it,” she pants, bouncing on my cock.
“Uh-uh, California.” I shake my head once. “Say ‘please can I have your cum?’”
“P-please can I have your cum?” she half-whines, half-moans.
“Atta girl.” My free hand claws at her hip, dragging her down on my cock harder, pumping my hips, chasing her heat like I’ll fucking die if I don’t stay deep.
She moans again, low and filthy, and I grunt back, foreheads pressed together, sweaty and panting into each other’s mouths.
It’s not gentle anymore, this fucking. Its real and raw, and I try to swallow down the emotion in my throat. She’s above me, everywhere. My beautiful girl bound and at my mercy, but really, it’s me who is at hers. Because she’s perfect and she will be my undoing.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight choking my cock, fuck. Come for me. I wanna feel it. Come first. Before I lose it.”
My words must push her over the edge because her head drops back, and her body tightens, her cunt clenching in a perfect rhythm that sets off my own orgasm. I come so hard I see stars. I come and come and come while she rides me through it.
I’m wrecked.
Ginger is still straddling my lap, hands slack behind her back where they rest against the wheel. Our chests heave for breath. I’m still inside her, half hard, still twitching, my heart hammering in my chest like I just ran five miles without stopping.
My forehead rests against hers. I don’t say anything. I breathe her in. The sweaty-sweet scent of her tangled hair and she makes that perfect little broken hum like she always does when she’s been thoroughly fucked.
My hand rests at the base of her throat, and I stroke my thumb along her collarbone, under the neck of her hoodie.
I drop my hand and reach around her to unfasten the belt and her hands automatically go to my chest. I lift each one, rubbing life back into them then place a kiss on the pulse pint of each one.
She burrows her face into my neck and sighs contentedly. Something cracks open in my chest.
“You okay?” I ask, brushing her hair back to kiss her face. “I didn’t mean to go that hard.”
She shakes her head against me and whispers, “I wanted it. I wanted you.”
I close my eyes with a nod, and for once, I let myself believe it.