“Slow down,” I say.
“Hmm?” she says, and her voice vibrates through my cock and straight up my spine. It makes my toes curl.
Hazel pulls back until her lips are just around the head of my cock, her hand around the base, and she looks up at me, swirling her tongue around it for a deliciously long moment before taking me back in her mouth. With every stroke I get closer and closer to the brink, my breath coming in gasps, and just as I’m about to tell her to stop before I come she pulls back slowly and looks up at me, grinning.
She stands and I push her backwards before I even know what I’m doing, until she’s up against the ugly Soviet truck. My hand’s behind her head, in her hair, and I’m kissing her hard.
“You taste like me,” I murmur.
“You’re probably dirty enough to like it,” she says, her fingers on my spine, dragging upwards.
“Probably,” I say, and kiss her again, her body moving against mine as she presses her hands into my lower back, urging me closer.
That’s it. I need her now.
I grab her and lift, and in a moment her legs are wrapped around my hips and my length is pressed against her as she squeezes and I bite her neck because it’s there and she’s driving me wild. Then she wriggles and relaxes, grabs my cock and guides it to her entrance.
“Slow, right?” I tease her.
“Goddammit,” she whispers.
I know what she wants. What we both want. I’ve got the claw marks to prove it.
I slide into her with one hard stroke, and it feels so good it takes my breath away.
“Fuck yes,” she whispers into my ear.
I bite her earlobe and fuck her again, listening to her moan.
“I wanted to do this the night we took the motorcycle,” I murmur. I’m driving into her, hard and deep, trying to control myself but it’s hard. It’s hard as hell.
“Push me against a truck and fuck me?” she asks.
I thrust again and her eyes slide closed, her head back against the green paint.
“Yes,” I say.
“Good,” she says.
She’s slowly falling, because as fun as it is, this isn’t a long-term position. I put her down, and then we’re around the back of the truck and she’s up on the tailgate. I shove the canvas out of the way, and some of it rips, but Hazel kisses me hard and I don’t give a shit about anything else.
I push her gently and she lies back in the truck, one knee over my shoulder and I slide into her again, even deeper than before and Hazel gasps.
“That good?” I growl at her.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I lean over her and try to go slow, one hand on her shoulder. I can’t quite kiss her but I can watch her as she moves, like some kind of beautiful sex goddess.
A sex goddess who I’m balls-deep inside of. I can already feel her muscles clenching and releasing around me, and it’s intoxicating. Even here, in a garage, I feel like I’m utterly lost in her, the only thing that even matters.
“Kostya,” she murmurs.
“Yes?”
“I like saying your name when we’re fucking,” she says.
I thrust again, hard and deep, and she arches into me.
“I like hearing you say it when I’m inside you,” I say.
“Kostya,” she says again, but this time she moans it, and holy fuck. I keep going and she keeps saying my name, and soon there’s fire pooling inside me and I know I can’t last much longer. Not like this, but she’s starting to clench around me, harder and harder.
I slide one hand down until I’m stroking her clit with my thumb. Hazel gasps.
“Fuck, Kostya,” she whispers, and explodes. She clenches around me so hard I see white and I hear her moaning oh fuck yes Kostya as she comes and it feels so fucking good that I go right over the edge, like I’m falling into her endlessly.
Everything goes white for a second and my mind goes totally, completely blank except for this and how fucking good it feels to be here, with her, and how good she feels and how perfect this is.
When I finally stop I’ve got one hand on her stomach and Hazel puts her hand over it, still breathing hard. She swallows, and then we look at each other. I push her knee off my shoulder, kiss her, and climb into the truck next to her as she snuggles against me.
“You bit my knee,” she says.
I pause, blinking.
“Just now?”
She laughs.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Not hard,” she says. “But you definitely bit my knee when you came.”
I kiss the side of her head.
“Sometimes I get out of control around you,” I murmur.
“Good thing I like it,” she says.
We’re quiet for a long moment, Hazel curled against me, my hand stroking her shoulder.
“We should go in and pretend that it normally takes two people half an hour to park the car,” she says.
“I’m not keeping you secret any more,” I say.
“I don’t particularly need to announce that we had sex in the garage while people were waiting for you, though,” she says.
It’s a good point.
“I don’t want to leave,” I say. “Back there are people who want things and have questions and demands and suggestions and I just want to sit here with you in this horrible truck.”
She nuzzles against my shoulder.
“We could get on the motorcycle and run away,” she suggests.
“To where?” I ask. “We don’t have passports, or a change of clothes, and I don’t even have my phone with me.”
“Kostya, you’re terrible at this,” Hazel says.
“At running away?”
“At co-authoring a fantasy that’s not going to happen,” she says.
I lean my head back against the truck.
“I don’t understand any of what you just said,” I say.
She laughs quietly.
“Okay,” she says. “I say, ‘We could run away on the motorcycle,’ and you say, ‘We’d go to the beach and drink champagne and watch the sun come up and it would be very romantic.’”
“Where are we going to get the—”
She puts one hand over my mouth, gently.
“We’re not going to do it, just talk about it,” she says. “Your turn.”
“We could...” I trail off and look at her.
She raises her eyebrows.
“Go to another town,” I say.
Hazel closes her eyes and bites her lip, laughing silently.
“We’ll work on it,” she says, and kisses my shoulder.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too,” she says.
We should go back. I should face the people back at the palace.
“Stay here,” I say.
“In the truck?”
“In the country,” I say. “If you can. I can get your visa extended.”
Hazel shakes her head and looks up at me.
“Kostya, you’re too much,” she says. “You’re the fucking king, of course you can get my visa extended. You could outlaw visas if you wanted.”
“Not really,” I say. “There’s a—”
“I’ll stay,” she says, and pauses. “I’d like to. But only if you can extend my visa, of course.”