Her tits were worth worshipping.
Her mouth a fucking treasure.
Her pussy as close to heaven as he’d ever get. Because if there was one, those pearly gates would remain locked the day he approached them.
When the fingers gripping his hair tightened, the sharp pull on his scalp made him pause. Until her mouth pressed to his ear. “Kiss me.”
Another demand, not an ask.
He reluctantly released her puckered nipple, shiny and wet from his attention.
“Kiss me.” The order whispered across his lips as she ground in a circle against him, driving him so deep there was nowhere left to go.
He plundered her mouth while cupping both tits. He squeezed and kneaded, loving the weight of them in his palms, the soft flesh within his fingers, the brush of the hard points against the pads of his thumbs.
A vision filled his head of her naked, on her back, her strawberry-blonde hair spread around her head like a fan, while she pushed her tits together as he tweaked the tips and he fucked the soft, pale mounds. Not letting up until he was ready to come, and when he was, finishing in her mouth.
She would accept all of him, his whole length with each thrust, and every drop of his cum when he spilled it at the back of her throat. By then she’d be so wet and on the verge of her own orgasm, when they’d flip around, she’d ride his face again until she exploded inside his mouth and he licked her clean. He’d savor every last drop of her in exchange of her savoring every last drop of him.
He forced himself from the fantasy he was determined to make a reality and concentrated on tonight. His future plans needed to wait.
He had her here and now. It might be in a fucking Subaru station wagon, but it was better than not having her at all.
She’d only come once. Once wasn’t enough.
Not for him, not for her.
Not tonight.
Chelle changed her rhythm when she began to rock back and forth, frantically grinding her clit into him, her whimpers filling his mouth. Their tongues stopped tangling, their lips stopped moving, but they remained connected, now only sharing their breath, which was ragged and quick.
His fingertips dug deeper into the soft flesh of her tits. When she released his hair, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drove forward one more time, holding him close.
What came next was unmistakable.
She twisted her head, pressed her cheek to his and cried, “I’m coming.”
That announcement was unnecessary. The proof came when she clamped tightly around his dick, each intense ripple driving him closer to his own final destination.
A few seconds later he reached it, grabbing her hips as his lifted. Her arms tightened around his neck and her breath swept over his ear as a groan rushed up from the very depth of his soul.
“I feel you,” she whispered.
No surprise. He had felt that to his toes.
When his dick stopped pulsing, he collapsed back into the seat and rode the high of his orgasm while it lasted.
Luckily, Chelle wasn’t in a rush to move. She kept a tight grip on him, her tits smashed against his heaving chest, her cheek still cemented to his.
What happened next caught him off guard.
Something broke open inside him, a warmth or a glow, like the rays of the sun radiating from his center and beaming outward, chasing away some of the darkness. The lingering darkness that had swallowed him whole so long ago and he could never quite shake, no matter what he did.
His hands automatically slid up her ribcage and around to her back until his arms wrapped tightly around her, too. He wished they could stay like that, and he could hold onto that warmth forever.
They couldn’t. He couldn’t.
But in those fleeting moments, he saw what could be.
How he could be.
He had wanted to meet her tonight to push out bad memories and replace it with one that was good.
This ended up being so much fucking more.
For fuck’s sake, it gave him hope.
He wasn’t sure he could—or should—hang onto that hope. But even a flash of it was more than he ever expected.
What was even stranger was that this happened during sex, something he had hated and was forced to do against his will for so many years.
When he was on the edge of fifteen, he began to enjoy it and even seek it out once he learned it could be pleasurable, and not punishment, with the right person.
Having sex with Chelle was more than simply getting off, it was on a whole other level.
It hit him why. It was that connection. One he’d never had with anyone before.
He hadn’t been seeking it, but it managed to find him.
He wasn’t sure if Chelle felt it, too. Or if he was imagining it.
No matter what, he wouldn’t mention it. He’d keep that crazy shit to himself. Because that was what it was. Crazy thoughts from a fucked-up brain.
He needed to pull out before his dick softened even more and the wrap leaked.
With his nose buried in her hair, he took one more long inhale, capturing her scent, then loosened his hold so she could lean back. He held the bottom of the wrap as she lifted herself enough to free him but she didn’t move off his lap.
“It’s late. I have to get up early tomorrow.” She sounded disappointed.
“Yeah.” They both had to work tomorrow. He’d find himself back in this rear parking lot again in a few hours.
“Can we do this again? Soon?”
Fuck yeah, they could. “Not here.”
She laughed softly. “No, not here. I suggest a bed next time? And maybe less clothes?”
“Likin’ your suggestion.” The bed, not the clothes part. “Club owns a motel. Could go there.”
Her brow furrowed. “They do?”
He assumed everyone in town knew who owned and ran The Grove Inn. “Yeah.”
“Or we could use my bed when the girls aren’t home.”
“If we’re in your bed, don’t wanna race.” Which would happen in her house if they were going to keep it from her girls.
“Rush,” she corrected him.
Shit. “That, too.” They wouldn’t be able to take their time if there was a threat of her daughters coming home. Catching them. Discovering that their mother was fucking a biker eleven years younger than her.
Not only a biker, but one who couldn’t read and had done too many things in his life he couldn’t talk about.
With a soft, but satisfied, sigh, she finally moved to sit next to him, grabbed her leggings and top from behind the seat and began to tug them on.
He slipped off the full wrap, knotted it and, like last time, had nowhere to dispose of it.
He wondered what Ry had done with his in the same situation. At least, Shade hoped to fuck the kid wore one with Saylor. Judge’s son had a solid future ahead of him and he didn’t need to be fucking that up just to get himself off.
Either way, wasn’t Shade’s problem.
His problem was in his hand. He grabbed an empty plastic shopping bag tucked in the back seat pocket and threw it in that for now.
As he yanked his jeans back into place and secured them and his belt, Chelle said, “I’ve been researching dyslexia and gathering some material we can use for your next reading lesson. I also talked to some teachers and they gave me some pointers. It’s doable, Shade. It might not be quick, but you should be able to learn to read. We just need to go about it an unorthodox way. There are plenty of lesson plans and programs out there, I just want to pick an effective one for you.”