Jane looked over the seat at the broad shoulders of Curtis’ replacement for the day. He glanced in the rearview mirror just then and caught her eye. Jane huffed out a sigh and looked away.
“Everything all right, ma’am?” the driver said.
Jane glared at the back of the driver’s head. “Don’t call me ma’am” Couldn’t he see she was far too young to be called ma’am?
“I apologize,” he said. He turned his head slightly and nodded. “I’m – Mr. Darcy.”
Jane’s head snapped in his direction. From where she sat, she could see the driver’s chiseled profile. She thought she saw the twitch of a smile on his lips. “What did you say?” she asked.
“I’m Mr. Darcy,” he repeated. “At your service." Missus?”
“It’s Ms.” Jane said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Ms. Barnard.”
Without the distraction of the cell phone, Jane noticed the way Mr. Darcy’s dark hair curled at the nape of his neck and the smell of his cologne — something woody, like cedar or sandalwood, with a sharp, smoky edge. To her surprise, she became aware of a warmth in the pit of her belly, and dampness between her legs. She breathed in sharply.
Mr. Darcy looked into the rearview again, meeting her eyes. She blushed. His eyes were deep brown, flecked with gold. Jane bent over quickly, embarrassed, and swept the cell phone up off the floor. She made a production of brushing it off, pressing buttons.
“It’s not going to work,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Excuse me?” Jane knit her brows together in a look she hoped was ferocious. The same look had worked on her staff just that morning, silencing them all. Mr. Darcy just smiled in an infuriating way into the mirror.
“No cell service between Camden Lake and Merton,” he said. “Not much out here but a few vacation cabins.”
“How do you know that?” Jane demanded.
“Used to go fishing up this way with my Grandpa when I was a kid.”
“Well, how long until we get to Merton?” Jane twisted on the leather seat, her silk panties riding up into the crevice between her legs. It felt good and terrible at the same time.
“What’s the hurry?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“Look,” Jane said irritably, “I have an important meeting that I-“
“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But in the mean time, check out the view. Relax.”
“Relax? Relax?” Jane threw the phone in her bag and sat back impatiently against the seat. “I am surrounded by idiots,” she mumbled to herself.
The car screeched to a halt. Jane sat up straight. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you stopping?”
Mr. Darcy spoke without turning around. “What did you say?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you just call me an idiot?” he said quietly.
Jane looked at her watch, exasperated. “I’m going to be late!”
Mr. Darcy cut the engine. He opened the door and stepped out of the car. Jane’s mouth dropped open. She watched as he walked around the front of the sedan and leaned against the hood, his arms folded and back to her. Now that he was out of the car, Jane noticed how tall he was, and the way the sleeves of his blue shirt strained over his muscular biceps.
She began pushing buttons on the inside car door to roll down the window and give him a piece of her mind, forgetting that with the engine off, the electronic windows would not work. “Oh!” she huffed in frustration, pulling on the door handle which held fast, causing her to break two fingernails. She pulled her hand back in pain and looked at the ragged nails. She was locked in!
“Hey!” she hollered, as loudly as she could. “Let me out of here this instant!”
Outside, Mr. Darcy leaned against the bumper of the sedan without a care, observing the trees and flowers beside the roadway, his tapered, well-muscled back turned to Jane, seemingly oblivious to her anger.
“I said, let me out of here, you son of a bitch!” Jane yelled. “Do you know who I am? You wait until we get to Merton! You are so fired!”
Jane threw herself back against the seat of the car. What did this jerk-off think he was doing? She picked up her cell phone again and pushed buttons to no avail. What was she going to do? She had meetings! Work!
Outside, Darcy had turned around and was studying her through the window. Jane looked at him and scowled. He walked slowly to the front door and unlocked it with his set of keys. He reached in and popped the locks, and Jane slid quickly across the seat, her skirt riding up to her buttocks, and grasped the door handle, but she was far too slow. Darcy opened the door and slid into the back seat with her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
He nodded at her hand. “You’ve hurt yourself,” he said, and put his hand out.
Jane slapped it away. “Leave me alone!” she said, but Darcy just smiled at her.
“Please,”he said, looking into her eyes. Jane felt her anger melting away, even though she fought against it. He was impertinent and disrespectful of her position, after all. But looking up at his handsome face, so interesting with full lips, high cheekbones and the tiniest of scars by his right eye — she found herself extending her hand.
He held her injured hand in both of his — his tanned skin was so warm and smooth, and in the closeness of the back seat, the woody scent of him bathed her. She breathed it in, and it was as if she was all of a sudden transported to an exotic country. His head was bent and he ran an index finger lightly over her wounded finger tips, causing a shiver to run up her wrist. He looked up then, and his face was very close to hers.
“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he said, his brown eyes liquid and showing remorse. Jane looked deeply into them and could barely speak.
She’d been alone for so long, caring only about her work, the business, getting ahead, making money — at night she was exhausted, falling into fitful sleep. It had been so long since she’d even looked at an interesting man, so long since—
Darcy’s lips parted. He ran his thumb up her wrist, then lightly traced his fingers back into her palm, working little circular motions, massaging her hand, ever so gently, the scent of him filling her nose, the heat of his thigh against hers. She saw him glancing down and followed his eyes to see her where her skirt had ridden up, exposing her creamy, smooth thighs. Under her skirt, her silk panties were wet with her moisture and sliding up between the lips of her vulva. His fingers worked between hers, and she imagined them, in that slit where her moist panties rubbed against her little button and she gasped.
She leaned back against the seat, and gently placed his hand on the soft, white skin of her leg. She reached out and touched his face and he looked in her eyes. She gently tipped his chin so he was looking down into her lap, and then slowly parted her thighs.
Darcy shook his head and pressed her legs together. Jane gasped, all of a sudden her cheeks burning with shame. She felt her anger mounting again, and he read it in her eyes. “No,” he said, “You misunderstand. Come.” He reached over and worked the door, stepping out onto the abandoned road. He held a hand out to her. “Come,” he said again. Jane didn’t know what was happening to her — she was always the one in charge, and now here she was passively doing as she was told. She put out her hand and when Darcy touched her fingertips, it was like an electric current was racing up her arm. She shivered and slid across the seat, her skirt riding even further up her thigh, exposing the cheek of her buttock, but she didn’t care.
She put her long legs out and stepped on to the uneven roadway, wobbling a little as she stood up. Darcy caught her in his strong arms, holding her against him, his thigh sliding between her legs. She could feel the heat of him, her wetness making a damp mark on his slacks. She looked up into his face, and Darcy slid his hand up under her blouse, his palm brushing over her breast, her hard nipple poking her bra. The friction of his palm and the cloth on the tender button made her quiver. She looked up and down the roadway. “Someone will see us,” she said, her voice raspy.
“Not on this road,” Darcy said. “Only the cottage owners use this road, and since it’s off season-“ he stopped in mid sentence, his mouth crushing hers. His hot tongue slid between her lips, moving slowly in and out and making her imagine his cock, sliding in and out of her mouth just like his tongue. She moaned, wanting that, wanting to taste him, to have his earthy, woody-smelling skin next to hers, she wanted to breathe him in, devour him. She slid her hands down his hard body to the buckle of his belt, her mouth still on his, kissing, kissing.
Suddenly, his hands were on hers, removing them. Her mouth came away from his in protest. “Why are you stopping me!” she cried, and attempted to undo his slacks again, but he was strong, his hands clamped around her wrists. He pinned her to the car, his mouth going to her neck, causing her another shiver that shot through her body and straight to the core of her, lighting her pussy on fire. “No,” he said, “I have other plans for you. “
“But I want-“ she started.
“Please,” he said in a tender way that stopped her. “Let someone else be in charge for once.”
“What do you mean?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Darcy looked in her eyes. “I saw you there, in the back seat,” he said. “Making and taking calls, making deals, arguing with your staff.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder, his thumb caressing the skin just above her breast. She wanted that thumb on her breast, stroking, stroking her nipple, but he didn’t move from that spot. She bit her bottom lip. He looked up then, around him. The warm breeze stirred the trees, making them sigh. “You didn’t even take one moment to enjoy the beautiful scenery around you.”
“I have a very important position,” she said defensively. “I don’t have time for-“
“This-“ he said, interrupting her, sliding his hand up under her skirt. His fingers snaked into her wet panties, brushing through the tangled mass of springy hair, soft like the moss at the base of the trees here, in the woods that lined the road. Jane’s knees felt weak with his touch, but he wrapped one strong arm behind her and while the length of his index finger worked between the slit of her hot, wanting lips, opening beneath his fingers like the petals of a flower.
There was a thin silver ring on his index finger, old and smoothly worn, but the ridge of that ring caused a pleasing sensation as it glided over her clitoris, which had raised its head up like the head of a tiny mushroom and strained toward his finger. Every time the ring bumped over the silky, little head, a wave of heat washed through Jane, and her honey began to run out onto Darcy’s fingers as they slid with an aching slowness up and down between those hot, wet vulva lips.
The tip of his finger teased in slow circles at the opening of her vagina, which contracted and contracted as if wanting to suck him in, and she moaned and begged him, “Please, inside me, please!” her breath coming hot and ragged, her head thrown back exposing her white, soft neck.
He bent his head and put his tongue in the hollow of her neck, and licked in a circular motion, feeling the vibration of her moans, her breath on the hot tip of his tongue. Jane moved her hips frantically against his hand, wanting to force his fingers deep inside her, wanting to feel him deep inside, at the core of her, but again he pulled away, taking away her control. Jane grimaced, growling in frustration, her tiny fists raining down on his shoulders. He picked her up then, in one fell swoop, and she continued to hit him, but he carried her as if he was not feeling a thing, and deposited her on the hood of the car.
He pushed gently on her shoulders and she fell back. His hands were on her silk panties and he slid them easily down her long, long legs. They fell into the dirt, and he slowly slid his hands up and up her legs, wrapping around the backs of her calves, behind her knees, sliding around to the inside of the knees, her thighs. She could feel the warm hood of the car, the metal smooth and hot beneath her bare ass, her bare pussy, touching the heat of the metal feeling wonderful and burning at the same time. She could feel her juice running out onto the hood of the car, making it slick beneath her.
The car was a slate grey Chrysler Sebring, and the hood had a raised center ridge. Jane was positioned on the hood so that the ridge, warm from the sun, rested in the cleft between her buttocks — and her labia. She could feel the hard ridge pushing up into her moist slit and she sighed and moved her hips gently, her wetness making the hot metal slick. She moved back and forth, letting the ridge glide between her pussy lips and bump against her clitoris. Darcy put his hot hands on her bare hips and let her pleasure herself — for a moment.
He reached around behind her and unzipped her skirt, and Jane leaned back and let him slide it down her legs. He unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked her bra and slid it off her. She arched her back, her pink nipples poking up toward the blue sky. Darcy leaned over her and brushed his tongue over each one, then stood, exposing her to the breeze which felt degrees colder on the wet peaks, causing them to contract and become harder, more erect.
She felt as if they were straining toward him, and she arched again, begging him wordlessly for his mouth. He responded, bending and licking the buds gently, then becoming more rough, his teeth teasing them, and they rose higher, became red, swollen, all of her swollen, her labia, her clit, her nipples straining up toward him.
But still he was controlled, moving slowly, at his own pace, ignoring her moans, her pleading, her tight words. He stood, gazing down at her, her skin white and hot under the sun, her nipples so dark they were nearly lavender with wanting, and her sex, it was deep rose, the clit poking up like a little cock from between the lips of her pussy, pushing toward him.
Jane ached with wanting. How could he ignore her words, her pleading, her commands? His eyes on her skin felt hot, like a searchlight, scorching her, melting her, his hands were gentle and frantic and painful and lovely all at once. She felt as if all her being were on fire at once, her skin, her mouth, her eyes, her pussy, on fire with wanting.
He pulled her up then, and positioned her hands on his shoulders. He stood between her legs and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. He did not speak, but slid his hands down her back, slowly, staring, finally resting them on her hips. He took over for her, then, using his hands like pistons, sliding her back and forth, riding the ridge of the hood, gliding on her juices, increasing speed, then slowing, increasing, slowing until Jane thought she would go mad.
Just when she thought she could not bear another second, he stopped abruptly, pushed her back and sank his mouth on her swollen, pulsing cunt, running his tongue up the slit, now hot from the metal hood of the car, from her longing, from her dripping honey.
He licked and kissed it like it was a mouth, running the tip of his tongue around and around the swollen button head of her clitoris, and it reddened and swelled even more, a little cum weeping from the top, which he lapped off like it was sweet cream. Jane could barely breathe, and when he pushed his fingers into her, his mouth wrapped, sucking, on her clit she cried out, exploding, her cum coating his fingers, his lips, his chin.
She lay back quivering, the hot sun shining its rays on her tender nipples, her belly, and Darcy, like a mother cat, continued lapping her cunt with his tongue, as if cleaning her, licking and sucking all her shining honey from the lips of her labia, gently teasing the cum from her springy curls, and the gentleness of the licking and probing, the care he showed her on her most tender of places, when he came back again to her clit and sucked again, she shuddered, crying, tears leaking from her eyes, her hands going to his head, holding him to her, and he let his mouth rest, sucking gently like a baby on the head of the clitoris until it trembled a last time releasing a little spurt of cum, and they were still.
Time seemed to stop for Jane as she lay there, on the hood of the Sebring, exposed, naked beneath the hot sky. Sounds came back to her after a while, the sighing trees, the chirruping of birds, the buzz of bees and bugs. She felt the breeze caress her skin. Darcy stood, his hand trailing down her skin, softly. Jane closed her eyes, feeling everythi
ng around her with every pore, absorbing the smells of the fragrant trees, the sounds all around her, suddenly huge in her ears. She was noticing everything. She smiled gently.
She heard the soft whicker, then, of a zipper being pulled down, and she opened her eyes slightly, looking down at Darcy through her lowered lashes. He’d removed his shirt, and his chest was smooth and brown in the dappled sunlight, his stomach tight and lovely. His trousers dropped down and he stepped out of them, and Jane looked appreciatively at him, his smooth, tanned skin, his cock rigid, and the head reaching up toward her. She wanted to spring up, to grasp it in her hand, her mouth, but she lay still, understanding now, waiting for his word.
Her eyes traveled up to his and she could see that he was smiling gently, as if pleased that she was drinking him in with her gaze, and he tipped his head in a slight nod, directing her eyes back down so she could watch him wrap his hand around his stiff cock, his big fingers grasping it lightly, the purple head peeking out of his grasp, the ridge around it swollen like a crown, and Jane licked her lips, imagining that ridge inside her pussy, the friction it would create as it dipped in and out.
The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 17: 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women Page 18
