Push(48)

“Hey,” he says as I toss my bag into the floor of the front seat.
“Hey, yourself,” I reply. Once I am in the car, David closes the door and walks around the front. I watch him run the fingers of his left hand lightly across the hood of the car. His eyes are on me, and the thumb of his other hand scuffs across his lower lip. I see a little nervous smile on his face. Or maybe it’s a wicked one. It’s hard to tell the difference.
He gets in and leans over the console, reaching for my neck. His lips meet mine. It is another one of those kisses. The “food poisoning” ones. When he pulls his face away, my eyes stay closed, and I am smiling from ear-to-ear. I must look ridiculous.
“What?” he asks with a little chuckle.
“Nothing,” I say. “I’m just thinking about those indescribable benefits and countless perks.”
He laughs a little and puts the car into gear, pulling out into traffic. Once we are on the highway, headed out of the city, David puts his hand on my knee and looks over at me.
“We have a quick stop to make before we grab some dinner,” he says. “I have to pick something up, and you have to get changed.” Into what? I wonder.
“Don’t be mad, but I brought you some jeans to change into. I didn’t think you’d want to wear your work clothes tonight, and I forgot to tell you to bring something,” he adds. “I just pulled the jeans and a shirt out of your closet. I grabbed your chucks, too.” Oh. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure it is,” I say. “Thanks.”
He reaches into his pocket and produces my blue panties with the black lace. The ones I was wearing the first time we f*cked. The ones I left hanging over the back of his chair.
“And I brought you these,” he says with a slight smile. “I thought maybe you’d like a fresh pair.” My eyebrows go up as his face glances over at me.
“Hmm,” I say, feeling a bit plucky. “I was thinking that maybe I won’t wear any at all tonight. That way I can guarantee you won’t be the one to run off.”
“I won’t run off, Emma. No matter what you are, or aren’t, wearing. That much I know.”
“Good,” I say.
Soon we are pulling into the driveway of a small house. The neighborhood is kind of ramshackle, but the house seems decently well-kept. David tells me this is where some of his poker buddies live and that I can get changed here. He has to grab a few cases of beer from the basement. We walk right in the front door without knocking. It’s open, and the house seems empty. On first sight, it is clear that this is a bachelor pad. There are dishes in the sink, dirty clothes draped over the furniture, shoes piled by the front door, mountain bikes leaning against the wall, and empties scattered around.
David tells me I can go back to one of the bedrooms or the bathroom to get changed if I want to, but there is no guarantee what I might find back there. I tell him that if there’s no one home, I’ll just change here in the living room.
“Suit yourself,” he says as he heads back through the kitchen and down into what I’ll assume is the basement. I open the bag David has packed for me and start to undress. Before I put on my jeans, I decide to switch into the blue panties. I’m flattered that he thought to bring them, and I know I’ll get a small thrill out of teasing him about them all night.
I have one foot into the leg of my jeans when David comes back up the stairs. He is carrying two cases of beer, one stacked on top of the other. His eyes rise and meet mine, and I freeze, bent over my jeans. His eyes are smiling, but the rest of his face is still. He walks over to the kitchen table and puts down the beer.
“Don’t pull them up,” he says. “I want to take them off.”
He is in front of me two seconds later, his hands on my waist, pulling me toward him. His eyes are on mine, and they are full of fire. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he drops down, pulling my jeans and the blue panties off in one swift swoop. He kneels beneath me, looking up at my face. He grips the inside of my thigh and lifts it so my foot is resting on the arm of the sofa. His hands make their way around to my backside, and he forces my crotch into his face. I hear a slow, tense exhale, and then I feel his mouth on me. It is soft and slippery and awe-inspiring. All the feelings of perfection and clarity that I felt lying on the hood of his car under the bridge return and seep into me. Sensation is jackhammering through my body, spreading out from where his mouth is. Out of him and into me.
My hands move quickly to the back of his head, sinking into his hair, goading him on. My hips push forward, meeting his mouth, letting his tongue wash against me over and over. As his fingers enter me, the pins and needles traipsing over my skin sink in hard, biting away every bit of powerlessness that I have ever felt. It is so quick. He is so quick. His tongue and fingers incite my body until I am hanging right on the edge of an orgasm. Then, as if this was not enough, David’s other hand slips across my ass, spreading my wetness against my backside. In one smooth, incredible motion, he slips a finger into my behind. It glides in and out of me in syncopation with the movement of his other fingers. His tongue is still lapping against me, and I am groaning like a f*cking dog. I can’t help it. I want him to know what he is doing to me. I want him to know how right this is. How close I am. How he is the one making me feel this way. How everything that radiates out of him crashes straight into me. And then I lose it. I come, gripping his head and pulling his hair, and shaking until my body is ready to drop to the floor.
I can feel him smile when his hands pull away. I drop my leg down off the arm of the couch to steady myself, and he clasps my hips to hold me still.