Crazy Girl(53)
Hannah didn’t seem to notice we were heading back a different way than when we came. She wasn’t familiar with this area. Once I’d shifted into fifth gear, I let my hand rest lazily on her thigh. After a moment, she began tracing circles on the back of my hand; a timid rounding motion. I followed her motion and started moving my finger against the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
She shifted in her seat, but not to stop me. She’d adjusted to give me better access to her leg; made it easier for me to reach. When I glanced over at her, the console lighting allowing me the view of her face, she was staring straight ahead, her lower lip tugged between her teeth, her chest lifting slowly as she controlled her breathing. The woman was riding a line of uncertainty. Was this going where she thought it was going? Maybe she should play it cool just in case it wasn’t. Smiling where she couldn’t see, a surge of adrenaline rushed through me, making me hard. I liked seeing her on edge this way—playing it cool, but wanting at the same time. Gradually, still brushing my finger over her delicate skin, I inched my hand until I reached the lining of her panties. Before sliding my hand between her legs, I looked at her to gauge if I should keep going or not. Her chest was rising and falling, her eyes closed. Her hands were at her sides, gripping the seat as she pushed her hips forward ever so slightly. She knew where I was going and she was waiting for me. Keeping my eyes on the road, I cupped my hand over her sex, my blood pumping hard when I found the fabric of her panties completely soaked. A growl I hadn’t been able to stop escaped me. I traced my fingers up and down with enough pressure to tease her, but not enough to get her there. She slid off her sandals and now had her foot closest to the door propped up on the side pocket and her leg closest to me jammed against the console, giving me as much access as she could provide. Perfectly opened…just for me. With my middle finger, I circled her clit, waiting for it—her song—the melody of that moan, the bucking of her hips, that delicious curse word that would slip from her beautiful mouth telling me I’d found it—that I’d hit her sweet spot. Our sexual encounters had been limited, but I’d learned this much of Hannah—when she felt good she was happy to serenade me in all the ways a woman could convey her pleasure. I knew when I’d touch her just right, she’d croon that song for me—and I was determined to make her sing.
I listened and waited, taking my time. First there were pants, short clips of air escaping her, then as I moved more, her hand rose and smacked against the window. I was almost there. Adjusting but a breath more, I found it and she played my song. We were in a car going fifty on backroads, but I had to look—I had to see her. Her head was back, her face to the sky, her chest out as she arched her back, her legs spread wide. Damn, it was beautiful.
“Fuck,” she groaned, her voice gritty with lust and pleasure. My arm was starting to cramp from the awkward position, but I kept my motion steady, careful not to slip, knowing moving even the slightest of a fraction would steal it from her. “I’m going…” she panted, her hand still pressed to the window, her fingers spread wide against the glass.
“Tell me, baby,” I ordered her, my voice husky. I was rock hard, and if I could have, I would have let go of the wheel and stroked myself, I was so fucking turned on. She moaned, her hand closest to me reaching up to my shoulder and fisting the fabric of my shirt. “Tell me,” I demanded.
“I’m coming, Wren,” she cried out, lifting her hips from the seat, her body chasing that release.
“Fuck, babe,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. Her dress was hiked up now, her body arched, as she continued her melody—a slew of curse words that danced out of her mouth on the coattails of moans. After a moment, she grabbed my wrist, holding me steady, telling me to ease up. The body was funny that way—how something that just gave you so much pleasure could be so sensitive afterward. Returning her bottom to the seat, she gasped for air and let her legs relax leaning inward. I kept my hand over her sex, holding it with pressure.
Neither of us said anything for a moment. I understood. She needed a minute to come down. Slipping the fabric of her panties aside, I slid one finger inside of her, motioning it in circles. She was wet and smooth, and I ached I wanted her so badly.
Her body relaxed as her breathing slowed. She still held my wrist, but she wasn’t stopping me. This wasn’t about making her come again, it was just touching her, feeling her…and letting her feel me. After a moment, her hand slid between us and she palmed my cock.
“No,” I stated.
We glanced at each other and her brows were slightly arched in confusion. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
I smirked. It was nice knowing she wanted to please me, too. As much as my dick was throbbing, I would wait. “Not right now. This was about you.”
I could tell she didn’t like my answer as she frowned, taking her hand back. But when I pulled my fingers from inside her and slipped them in my mouth, sucking her wetness from them, her eyes widened, a flicker of lust flashing in them.
“Mmm…” I growled before licking my lips. “That was for me.”
When we got back to the house, we spread out our feast of gas station food—burgers, chips, and beer—and plopped on the couch. Shifting in my seat, I felt something hard under my ass and realized I was sitting on a screwdriver I’d used earlier to remove the wall mount for my flat screen. Tossing it on the cushion beside me, I looked around at all of my stuff piled up and boxed around the room. My new place wouldn’t fit all this junk. It already came furnished and the garage wasn’t big enough to store my car, bike, and furniture. I’d need to start getting rid of some things, or I would have to get a storage unit.