by L. A. Witt
He laughed softly, then did it again, pressing his teeth in just enough to sting.
“Fuck,” I breathed, holding on to him as a shudder almost dropped me to my knees.
“That’s a good idea. You still have that condom?”
“Of course. Think we should—”
“Yes.” Sean plucked it from my hand and tore the wrapper with his teeth.
I blinked. “Right here?”
He nodded, looking me in the eyes. “Right here.”
This is insane. This is—
So hot.
Clumsily, I undid the front of his pants, and then grabbed him and kissed him. The car kept us upright, which was good since the extent of my multitasking was kissing Sean and rolling the condom onto his cock. Even as I felt around in my pockets for that little packet of lube, I didn’t want to stop kissing him. We really needed to do this in a place where we could make out and fuck at the same time. Though I supposed the backseat would do, even if it would be a bit cramped. No, we needed space. Privacy. A bed.
“You’ve got lube, right?” he asked between breathless kisses.
“Mm-hmm. Got it some . . . here!” I found the packet and held it up.
He took the lube from me. “Turn around.”
I licked my lips as I unbuckled my belt. While Sean lubed himself up, I turned around and rested my forearms on the trunk, hoping he didn’t notice that I was practically vibrating with excitement. Or hell, let him notice. Just get that lube on and fuck me before I come unglued.
He shoved my jeans and boxers down over my hips, and the weight of my belt, wallet, and phone dropped it all to the ground with a quiet clink of the buckle hitting gravel. He nudged my knees apart with his, and I adjusted my stance as much as I could. Then the head of his cock pressed against my ass, and I closed my eyes, gripping the edge of the trunk lid as anticipation turned my knees to liquid. I didn’t know why I was this desperate for sex tonight—this desperate for sex with him in particular—only that I was.
As Sean pushed himself into me, the night air was cool against my bare skin, reminding me how exposed I was. If anyone happened by, there was no talking ourselves out of this. There was no denying what we were doing when he had me bent over his car with our pants around our ankles.
Any other night, that would’ve had me panicking, but not tonight. Tonight, the thought of someone showing up and seeing me taking Sean’s dick was erotic as hell. Maybe that meant I was losing my mind. I didn’t know. Didn’t really care either. All I wanted was for Sean to keep working that thick cock into me, and I didn’t care who knew about it.
He took his time, easing in every inch until he was taking long, smooth strokes.
“After this,” he murmured in my ear, “let’s . . . go someplace else. So I can fuck you again.” As if for emphasis, he thrust into me hard enough to make the shocks creak.
“Yes. Please.” I almost choked on the words. “We can go . . . we can go to . . .” We’d figure it out later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was how good his dick felt inside me.
We’d barely started, and already, I was getting close. What the hell? I could go for-fucking-ever, but now that I was bent over his car and taking his cock, Sean had me right on the edge.
He put his hands on the trunk lid on either side of mine and rocked his hips faster, and that didn’t help at all. I closed my eyes and held my breath, but even that wasn’t enough to let me regain any semblance of control.
“Gonna . . .” I shivered. “Gonna make you think I’m a minuteman.”
“Why’s that?” He slammed into me so hard he knocked me off-balance, but the car was already doing most of the work of holding me up. “Kinda seems like . . . a compliment.” Another hard, violent thrust. “Love it when a guy loses it while I’m fucking him.”
“Oh Jesus.” I gripped the trunk lid and pressed my knees against the bumper so they didn’t drop all the way out from under me. “H-hard as you . . . as you can.”
Sean groaned, and God bless him, he fucked me hard. The shocks creaked. The gravel beneath our feet crunched. Skin slapped against skin.
And I was coming. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a can’t-breathe, can’t-moan, can’t-fucking-move orgasm.
Sean’s hands moved to my hips, and his fingers bit in. He held his breath as he relentlessly pounded my ass, and when he came, he wasn’t nearly as mute as I was.
“Fuck!” he roared, and forced himself all the way in. My kneecap smarted against the bumper, but it was well worth it to feel him and hear him as his thick cock pulsed inside me. His hips jerked as the roar fell to a soft moan, and then he released a ragged breath as he slumped over me.
For a moment, neither of us moved. In the distance, waves rolled and crashed, and somewhere, a logging truck or something rumbled down the highway. Here, though, the only sound was the two of us panting in unison.
Sean pulled out, and suddenly the idea of going somewhere else so we could fuck again took on a whole new sense of urgency. I needed more of this. More of him.
“Stay there.” He paused to kiss the side of my neck. Then he was gone. Well, not really. Still right there, but he was no longer touching me. Clothes rustled and his belt buckle jingled.
While I fixed my own clothes, he stepped away to toss the condom in one of the trash cans by the fence. Had we really done that? Fucked right here out in the open like it didn’t matter if we got caught?
Yes. Yes, we had. And I wanted him to fuck me again as soon as humanly possible.
He grinned as he came back to where I was standing. “You really do make the drive to Flatstick worth it, you know that?”
Laughing, I hooked my fingers in his belt and pulled him toward me. “Glad you didn’t come all the way down here for nothing.” I wrapped my arms around him and casually leaned against the car. “We should definitely go someplace else.”
He nodded. “Any ideas?”
“Well, there are plenty of motels nearby.” I paused. “Quicker than trying to get back to your place or mine.”
“Probably not my place anyway. Motel sounds good to me.”
I didn’t push the issue. Maybe he had roommates. Maybe less than presentable housekeeping. Maybe, like me, he didn’t want his neighbors to see him bringing guys home.
Whatever—I didn’t care about who he lived with or how he lived as long as we found a place with a flat surface that wouldn’t collapse when he fucked me that hard.
“So . . .” I raised my eyebrows. “Motel?”
Sean grinned. “Motel.”
Paul checked us in while I waited in the car.
I still couldn’t believe I was even here. I’d assumed he’d just needed the nearest warm body to get over the one who’d left him cold in his motel, so I hadn’t expected to hear from him again.
And yet, I had. And then I’d driven clear down to Flatstick, picked him up, and fucked him over the back of my car in a public place where we could have been caught. It wasn’t likely—I’d had plenty of sex in that parking lot and never seen heads or tails of a cop—but it was possible.
Why was I being so stupid? I wasn’t even working tonight. When Paul had texted, I hadn’t been out on a run like I’d told him. Even though it was a Friday night, I’d been hunched over my desk in my bedroom, studying for next week’s English midterm. The message had come through, and at first, I’d ignored it. Rematches had a habit of turning into . . . well . . . habits. And I was no man’s rebound.
But then, while I’d tried to return my attention to studying, memories of the other night had started trickling back in. Paul’s kiss alone was enough to kill any hope I’d had of concentrating on King Lear or A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
And then my brain had helpfully reminded me that I’d jerked off no fewer than four times to thoughts of Paul—what we’d done and what I wished we’d done. He wasn’t going to get any less distracting if I didn’t pick him up in Flatstick tonight, and the more I’d tried to talk myse
lf out of it, the more I’d thought of what could happen if I went to get him.
So I’d texted him back, pretending the delay had been a result of driving another passenger somewhere, and suddenly we were arranging to meet up. I’d marked my page, closed my book, tucked a couple of condoms and some packets of lube in my back pocket, and grabbed my keys.
I’d felt a little guilty walking through the living room past Dad and his girlfriend, Julie, on the way out to the car. Like I was still a teenager who would be grounded for decades for sneaking out to get laid. Old habits died hard, apparently.
I wasn’t a kid anymore, though, so they didn’t question me when I came and went. They never did. Thank God for that too—I was constitutionally incapable of lying to my father except by omission. I could withhold anything from him forever, but if he asked me point-blank? I was screwed.
But he didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell him I was heading down to Flatstick to pick up a horny older man from a gay bar.
And now Paul was checking us into a hotel room while I tried to ignore this increasingly uncomfortable hard-on. Jesus—how long did it take to process a credit card and sign a form?
Finally, though, he came out, holding up a key and grinning, which did nothing to help with that hard-on but definitely brought a smile to my face.
We hurried into the room, and . . . yes. As soon as we were through the door, Paul turned around, hooked his fingers in my front pockets, pulled me to him, and kissed me.
I wrapped my arms around him and leaned into him. Sliding my hands down over his ass, I tilted my head and deepened the kiss. Oh God, yes. This was why I’d blown off studying and good sense—nobody kissed like Paul. Something about the way his lips moved with mine, and the way he ran his fingers through my hair and took his sweet time, made the rest of the world disappear. In the car, we’d been frantic and needy to the point that fucking right there over the trunk hadn’t seemed insane. Now, with time and privacy on our side and two orgasms already out of the way, we weren’t in such a hurry.
I wasn’t in any hurry to let him go either. Whatever doubts I’d had still grumbled in the back of my mind, but I ignored them all because holy shit, this man could kiss.
He pushed me back a step, and my back hit the wall. Barely breaking the kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been fantasizing about this since the last time I saw you.”
“Have you?”
“Mm-hmm.” He curved his hands over my ass, pulling me closer and making sure I felt every inch of his erection through our clothes. “For the record . . .” He started kissing his way down my neck, turning me inside out with soft lips and lightly abrasive stubble. “I don’t usually go looking for younger guys. But you’ve had my attention since the other night.”
I dragged my nails up his back. “Well, for the record, I’m not that young. I am legal.”
He laughed, which sent a rush of hot breath past my neck. “You’re younger than I am.”
“Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”
“Does it seem like it bothers me?”
“Not even a little.” I rubbed my clothed erection against his. “Only thing that bothers me is all these damn clothes.”
“They’re a problem, aren’t they?” He nipped the side of my neck, and when I gasped and shivered, he grinned against my skin.
We inched closer to the bed. Shoes came off and were kicked out of the way. He made no move to turn off the light. Good. After all, he’d given me two orgasms—hell, we’d sucked each other’s dicks and I’d fucked him—and I still hadn’t seen him completely naked. That was changing tonight.
I kissed him hard. He gripped my hair and kept his other arm tight around my waist, and he gave as good as he got—Christ, I didn’t even care if we fucked again tonight. I could’ve done this till dawn.
I tugged at his shirt, but Paul stiffened.
I looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” He glanced down and swallowed, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You sure?”
His cheeks colored. “Just, uh, haven’t . . . I’m not as young as I used to—”
I kissed him and wrapped my arms around him again. “We wouldn’t have made it this far if I didn’t think you were attractive.”
“To be fair, this is the first time you’ve seen me in the light.”
I grinned at him. “The pier wasn’t exactly pitch-black.” Sliding a hand over his groin, I added, “I like what I’ve seen so far.”
Paul bit his lip, sucking in a breath through his nose. “Well, uh, keep your expectations reasonable, okay? I’m not twenty-five.”
“If you were twenty-five, we probably would’ve annoyed each other to death by now.” I paused. “Look, I don’t want you to be self-conscious or anything. We’ve been mostly dressed every time so far—we can keep some clothes on if you want.”
He studied me for a few seconds. Long enough for disappointment to sink in my gut. I really was cool with making sure he was comfortable, but I also really, really wanted to see him naked.
And right then he shrugged and pulled off his shirt. As he dropped it on the floor, he put his arms out and laughed shyly. “There you go.”
I didn’t want to make him even more self-conscious by staring, but . . . holy fuck. I could only imagine what he’d looked like at twenty-five if he thought this was going to put me off. Maybe he’d had a six-pack back then or something. Whatever. His smooth, flat stomach and narrow waist were begging to have my hands all over them. He had a few tattoos—one on his upper arm, one on the side of his rib cage, a third peeking up from the waistband of his low-slung jeans—and I’d look at them in detail eventually, but the whole picture? Christ.
So glad I made the drive tonight.
I licked my lips again. “You have tattoos.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Don’t tell my mom, okay?”
“Promise.” I laughed, running my fingers over the intricate lines on his ribs. “This one must’ve hurt.”
“You better believe it.” He claimed a deep kiss, and when I pressed my nails into the tattoo, he groaned softly, shivering against me.
“Doesn’t sound like you minded a little pain, hmm?”
He arched and shivered again. “A little pain is . . . is good. That one was a bit much.”
“It looks great, though.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, a hint of shyness lingering in his expression. “And, um . . .” He cleared his throat, gesturing at my shirt. “I showed you mine.”
“You did.” I peeled off my shirt and dropped it on top of his. “Better?”
“Much.”
“Good. And by the way, I don’t know what you were so worried about.” Meeting his gaze, I ran my hands up his chest. “I like what I see.”
Paul grinned, and some tension in his shoulders eased. “Well in that case—” he brushed his lips across mine “—guess we can leave the lights on.”
Damn right we can.
I cradled the back of his head and kissed him full-on. His skin was hot against mine, and when his hands drifted up my back, they gave me goose bumps.
“I didn’t get a chance to look at you,” he said between kisses.
“You want to look?” I dragged my nails up his back. “Or touch?”
He groaned, tilting his head back and shivering. “That is . . . quite the dilemma. I’m going to say both.”
“Yeah? How you going to manage that?”
Paul hooked his fingers in my belt loops and led me toward the king-sized bed. He lay back on it, gesturing for me to come down with him. I started to, but paused. Oh, wasn’t that a sight—a hot, fit man wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, with an impressive hard-on straining the seams.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Can’t touch you when you’re all the way over there.”
“That is kind of a problem, isn’t it?” I joined him on the bed and straddled him. He cupped the back of my neck, pulled me down, and kissed me again.
So much for looking at each other. Oh well—this was perfect. I loved the way Paul’s arms felt around me, especially with no shirts in the way. Eventually, we’d get rid of the rest of our clothes, but for now we were too busy kissing and touching above the belt.
And my God, I loved that he was as content as I was to make out like this. The best part? His addictive kiss. He wasn’t lazy or passive, just . . . not aggressive. Or not too aggressive. Not pushy. He explored my mouth like I explored his, all without ramming his tongue down my throat or pinching lips between teeth. And teeth didn’t crack against teeth—I fucking hated that. The way Paul kissed, I was tempted to take him back out to my car and head to a movie theater or a drive-in if we could find one, just so we could ignore the movie and make out; he kissed like someone who could happily keep this going until the credits rolled. We didn’t even need to have sex as long as he kept kissing me like this while a film flickered in the background.
My arm was getting tired, so I nudged him onto his back and put my weight on my other arm. Then I dipped my head and kissed his neck. As I worked my way down, Paul rested his hands on my sides, then my shoulders, and whispered curses as I kissed his neck, collarbone, chest, abs.
“Fuck,” he breathed, combing his fingers through my hair. “You do know how to turn a guy on, don’t you?”
I grinned and pressed another kiss to his skin. There was something insanely hot about an older guy complimenting my technique. Like he wasn’t just some inexperienced kid who didn’t know good from good.
I flicked my tongue right above his navel. He squirmed, and the motion drew my attention to that tattoo by his hip. It must’ve been a dragon or something—only the tail was visible right now, following the contour of his hip bone before disappearing under his waistband. I wanted to see it. And more than that, I wanted to see the thick cock that was obviously straining to get out of his snug pants.
Paul swore softly and helped me, and between us, we managed to get his pants out of the way.
Once he’d wriggled out of them, I tossed them off the bed and let him pull me down into his arms. I thought he’d turned me on when we’d been mostly dressed in the car. Completely naked and tangled up on his bed? Fuck yes.
