I want this. Right now. And we’re doing it. To hell with the great outdoors beyond the rapidly steaming up glass.
‘Glad you’re on board.’ She pulls my zip down, her hand reaching inside my briefs, tugging at my erection that’s so eager it’s already weeping.
I pull her mouth away, press back into the headrest as I drag in air and mentally count to ten. It’s been too long, way too long. And now my biggest worry is I won’t last a second.
‘Olivia, I...’
How do I even say it? Where do I start?
‘Olivia, you?’ she says between kisses and I gulp in air. Shake my head as I try to explain. ‘It’s been a while.’
She smiles. ‘You and me both.’
‘I’m talking more than four weeks.’
‘So am...’ She breaks off as her eyes widen, her hand pausing around my cock as she raises her head further. ‘I didn’t, we didn’t. Electra and me. I left when you did.’
I frown up into her open and honest expression. The fact that she wants to reassure me, that she thinks it some way important is...strange. ‘It’s none of my business what you did together.’
‘It feels like it is.’
‘Why?’
She pauses as she thinks and then she gives a soft laugh that I can’t quite comprehend. ‘I’ve no idea. Now, where were we...? Oh, that’s right, putting an end to our dry spell...’
And then she’s stroking me again, her mouth melding with mine, supping kisses as she drags my lower lip down, flicks her tongue over it. ‘I find it hard to believe someone like you has gone without for that long.’
‘We back to stereotyping me again?’
She chuckles low. ‘I confess to being a little Elizabeth Bennet.’
It’s my turn to laugh. ‘Does that make me Darcy?’
‘Ooh, I’m impressed.’ She runs my cock down the seam of her hot, wet pussy as she coos with approval. ‘A man who knows his literature too.’
My fingers bite into her thighs as I tremble with the need building. ‘Am I breaking free of the mould now?’
‘Perhaps.’ She runs her thumb over the slit at the head of my cock, now damp with her need as well as my own, and considers me. ‘So how long has it been? Weeks, months...’
‘Years, try years.’
Her eyes narrow, looking for a lie that doesn’t exist, but her hand still moves over me, long and slow, as my thighs continue to tremble between hers.
I wait for her to refute my confession, wait for her to laugh, or to tease, anything but the softening of her eyes. And then I fear the question that I sense coming: Why?
‘It’s okay.’ She’s still searching my gaze, her hand caressing. ‘We’ll take it slow.’
Her whispered words clutch around my heart as she kisses me and I close my eyes. They’re not dirty, playful. They’re considerate, caring. Fuck.
She’s my client and I knew this wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn’t be straightforward, our pasts forcing us on a path to collision that I’m not sure I’m ready to meet. Do I want her to know I’ve been there? Experienced the same loss as her. That the reason I haven’t had sex in so long stems from the same. I don’t know. But this is messy, oh, so messy.
I kiss her harder, hold her tighter to me, open my eyes and lose myself in her heavy-lidded gaze, grateful that she doesn’t probe when I know the question is still there.
She squeezes my cock and I buck as a fresh wave of heat surges south.
‘This is you taking it slow?’ I grind out.
She gives a coy shrug. ‘Slowish.’
She’s never looked more beautiful, more irresistible and I’m past caring of my performance now, too wrapped up in how she looks, how she feels. I palm her breast, roll my thumb over its stiffened peak. Listen to the whimpers trapped low in her throat. I do it more. I do it to both, concentrate on the intoxicating way she rolls her head back, bites into her lip.
I could come like this alone, feasting on her uninhibited response to my touch. I wish she was in the dress from the club, the dress with the low back that I could pull down now and gain access to her beneath the fabric, but this dress has her covered to the hip and...
‘Let me...’ She takes the condom from me, tears it open as my hands fall to her hips, gripping tight. She tosses the packet onto her empty seat and pumps my cock, once, twice.
‘You ready?’
‘What do you think?’
Her smile is to die for as she lowers the latex to my tip, rolls it over me in the most sensuous, the most evocative way possible and then her mouth is on mine, feasting on me as she rises up and positions me between her legs, pumps me with her hand before she sinks over me. Surrounding my entirety with her tight, slick heat.
My head rolls back, the pleasure unreal, and then she’s riding me, fierce, hard. Her hands tug on my hair and the headrest, pulling me to her, her mouth as crazy as her movements. She whimpers into my mouth, pumping me harder, faster with her body, too fast, too tight and the pleasure-filled tension is ripping through my body, pulling it taut as she continues to ride, unrelenting, urgent.
‘Olivia!’ I cry out in some kind of warning, some kind of helplessness and I’m gone, tipped over the edge, pulsing into her again and again and again. She breaks away, stares into my eyes as her climax claims her too, and we’re locked in that look, that feeling, our bodies losing their all in the most intense orgasm I can ever remember.
She slows above me, rides me softly and then her fingers circle against my scalp, massaging as her eyes stay locked on mine.
‘Come in
