I don’t want to look at him. Saying it is enough. I can’t believe I’m admitting this to anyone, especially him, but I can’t resist. And, besides, he’ll probably know if I’m lying.
“What was that?” Colson stills his hand except for his middle finger tickling my clit, catching my breath and making me writhe in my seat.
Son of a bitch, I gasp, trying to maintain some shred of focus, just say it. He already has his hand down your pants.
“I think about you,” I say between broken breaths, “when I…touch myself…”
Colson’s eyes narrow, but remain on the dark highway, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“OK,” I clench my teeth as he stills his hand, “what do you think about?”
Quid pro quo, motherfucker.
“When?” he asks with feigned ignorance.
I press my lips together in frustration as he toys with me.
“Oh, sorry,” Colson grins, “well, you know when you chew on your pen in class? You do this thing with your tongue where you slide it up and down the underside of your pen, and it’s really fucking hot because you don’t even know you’re doing it. I just have to sit there and watch you for an hour and a half straight every Tuesday and Thursday. It’s pure torture.” He speaks slowly, drawing out every word, “So, when I want a really good one, I imagine you on your knees, looking up at me with those big, beautiful, hazel eyes, and swallowing my dick like it’s your last meal.”
My jaw falls open and I let out a whimper when he finally slides a third finger inside me. I can feel the orgasm building like the slow burn of a wick crawling toward a stick of dynamite.
“Fuck, baby, you can’t imagine all the sick things I’m going to do to you,” he’s thinking about it now, the low hum behind his drawl giving him away, “when I get you in my bed, you’ll spread those legs wide for me and beg me to fuck you until I’m dripping from every hole you have.”
Sensing the quake deep in my core, Colson speeds up his cadence. With a desperate cry, my muscles contract and I dig my nails into his forearm. My head snaps back and my other hand slams into the door, my fingertips turning white as they claw the thin leather below the window. I grind against Colson’s hand with garbled curses on my breath as every nerve in my body fires at once.
When it’s over, I cling to his arm, drawing in deep breaths and basking in the euphoria I’ve never experienced from another human being. It feels different—when something is given rather than taken without a second thought.
Colson lingers until my grip loosens and then gently retracts his hand from my lap, “And, that, Honeybee, is how it’s supposed to be done.”
I watch in awe as he reaches up and slides his index finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. He does the same with his middle and ring ringers and the longer I watch him, the harder it is to sit still.
“Pull over,” I say flatly.
It catches Colson off-guard, but he complies without a word. Three minutes later, he veers off at the next exit onto a dim stretch of road lit only by sporadic light poles rusting into the asphalt.
He pulls the Bronco into a deserted gas station with peeling white paint and broken-out windows. The sign has long faded into a blank, sun-bleached canvas and the pavement bursts with grass and weeds. The only light emits from the street lamp near the road, casting the entire lot in an eerie glow. It looks like the setting of a slasher movie, and a campy one at that. I should be repulsed, terrified we’ll be hacked apart by some masked maniac in the overgrown honeysuckles behind the building, but I’m not.
It’s perfect.
“Get out,” I deadpan as soon as he shifts into park.
Colson pauses momentarily and then cuts the engine, “Yes, ma’am,” he pulls the keys from the ignition and tucks them into his jacket pocket.
I slam the door and meet him at the driver’s side, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and pulling him backward to the decaying brick wall. He lets out a groan as I attack his mouth, closing my mouth around his bottom lip and sucking slowly.
He grabs my ass with both hands and presses me against the wall, “Is this what I have to do, little Honeybee,” he starts grinding against me, “buy you books and finger you in my car when I make you angry?”
I grab the back of his neck and move with him, trying to chase that high again, “It’s a start.”
The thin layers of cotton and rayon between us are a joke. He’s so hard that I can feel him moving against me like there’s nothing there, making my nerve endings fire all over again. Then I remember why I told him to stop here. I grab his shirt again and spin him around, pushing his back against the wall as I sink down to my knees.
The outline of his cock strains against his pants, making me salivate, “What kinds of sick things are you going to do to me?” I smile up at him while unlatching his belt buckle.
He takes a wide stance, bracing himself against the wall, “I’ll use that belt to make you my pet,” his eyes are still vast oceans, even in the darkness, “put you on a leash for the night, maybe longer.”
I’d be your pet…
Colson raises his arms and clasps his hands over his head, mouth ajar and chest heaving as I tear his button and zipper open. When I grab the sides of his pants and pull them down, his cock springs loose, nearly smacking me in the face. My thighs tense and suddenly his asinine comment in the Bronco turns into an ominous warning. He wasn’t lying...
Wrapping my hand around his base, I tip my head back and drag my tongue up the underside of his shaft, closing my mouth over his tip when I reach the top. Holding my breath, I take him as deep as I can, pumping his cock against the back of my throat before sucking him hard.
“Fuck me...” Colson groans, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the crumbling brick.
Spit seeps from the corners of my mouth as I slide him over my tongue, all the while the ache between my thighs builds like a slow burn. My knees grind against the grit and gravel, but I barely feel it as he runs his hand around the back of my neck, tilting my head up.
“If you’re good, I’ll mark you as mine,” Colson murmurs salaciously, “then I’ll bind your hands, so you won’t run when I start telling scary stories.” I let out a moan loud enough for him to hear as he clenches his fist at the base of my skull, “Take a deep breath and show me how good you are.”
I inhale deeply and, as soon as I do, he pumps my head faster, pushing his cock deeper with each thrust. When he hits the back of my throat, I lurch forward. Tears flood my eyes as I gag against the onslaught, which only makes me open wider.
I claw at his thighs, my arms useless except to brace myself against him as he thrusts into my mouth so hard that I think my jaws will split apart. He holds my head firm until a slow moan reverberates from above, getting louder each time he slams into my throat. Seconds later, a deep grunt cuts the silence and I let out a muffled squeak when I feel his thick, warm cum hit the back of my throat mid-suffocation.
Cursing under his breath, he pulls out a couple inches, allowing me to breathe again but keeps my mouth closed around him. I collapse onto my heels, strings of spit and cum leaking from the corners of my mouth as my nostrils flare and my chest heaves.
“Breathe, baby,” Colson exhales, the corners of his mouth curling, “you can swallow now.”
I look up at him through foggy, tear-stained eyes while he watches the muscles in my throat tense and empty my mouth. Then he slowly slides his cock out and tugs his pants back up to his waist.
After clasping his belt, he kneels down in front of me and cups my face, “Look at me,” he speaks softly as he holds me still and swipes his thumbs under my eyelids, gently wiping away the remnant tears mixed with mascara. When he’s finished, he offers me his hands, “Come on.”
