Adam's List(57)
When our exit into Toledo appears, I fake a cough. “We’re running a bit behind schedule. I say let’s forget supper and go straight to the camping site.”
Adam’s fingers lace through mine. “As much as I want to do things to your smokin’
body again, we’re not making this trip all about how often we can get down each other’s pants.” His eyes twinkle when he glances at me. “We’re sticking to the schedule. We have a checklist, remember?”
I squeeze his fingers, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, buddy. Let me know how that denial thing’s working out for you.” I check my phones for notes I took before we left. “The cemetery here is haunted. Maybe there’s a quiet spot everyone’s too afraid to go where we can work on a different kind of list.”
Adam chuckles, pretending to be irritated. “Dear god, I’ve awakened a monster.”
“Wait, have you?” I tug at the zipper on his shorts. “Let me see.” I’ve got two fingers inside his underwear and coiled around his now pulsating swell when the pickup swerves.
“Shit! Would you stop? You’re going to run us off the road!”
“Then you better hurry and pull off somewhere before we have an accident!” I answer in the same exasperated tone.
I pull down the rest of the zipper and nudge open the convenient slit in his royal blue boxers, leaning down to swipe my tongue across his tip. He’s sweet and dribbling, ready to go. Adam groans, then gasps when I take him inside my mouth. I curl my lips around him as much as I can, delighted to discover he’s even bigger than the surge in his pants would suggest.
The pickup veers off the highway at accelerated speeds. I let my tongue and lips do the magic, bringing him to full attention as the tires screech against pavement before we’re still. It’s rather uncomfortable the way he fills my entire mouth, nearly choking me, but I sense his arousal growing with each of my movements and don’t stop.
“Holy fuck.” He groans, lacing his fingers through the thick of my hair. His breath stutters with the powerful suction of my lips. “Jewels.”
I love the sound of my name falling from his lips in pleasure. It makes me want to please him even more. Low grumbles of ecstasy rumble through his throat when I speed up the rhythm. It’s hardly five minutes later that I hear his other hand slam against the steering wheel, his breaths deepening. His entire body becomes stiff and he hums a deep, satisfied grunt under his breath before releasing into my mouth. He quivers underneath my hold. “That...was amazing.”
Giggling, I clean him up as best I can before taking a deep breath. “Do I dare sit up?”
“I’d advise against it. The old lady in the car next to us is giving me a funny look. We better get out of here before the cops show up.”
As we tear out of the supermarket parking lot, I sit up in time to catch the wide eyes of the white haired woman in the old sedan next to us.
The steakhouse we agree on has an old-world charm underneath ornate lighting and arched ceilings, and smells like my grandma’s house on Thanksgiving. It’s fairly busy for a weeknight, although there isn’t a waiting line to get in. The hostess shows us to a small, round booth with a fair amount of privacy at the far end of the restaurant. The continuous bench allows us to nuzzle together the moment she’s gone.
“Let’s order some champagne,” I whisper in his ear before sucking on his lobe.
“Celebrate the fact that you’re no longer just a prude who’s only into me for my friendship.”
His hand wraps around my thigh, leaving his fingers to dangle dangerously close to the part of me that can’t seem to get enough of him. “I’m not really a drinker. I’ve watched my brother get hammered too many times and make a total ass of himself.”
“Half a bottle isn’t going to turn you into a raging alcoholic.”
A high school girl with dopey glasses and a crooked smile approaches our table, setting large menus in front of us. Her brown eyes fall down to where Adam and I have become precariously intertwined, and her face flushes red. “Hi, I’m Cassandra. I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“Champagne. The cheapest stuff you have.” I answer. Adam turns to me, opening his mouth. I press my finger to his lips. “My treat.”
“Sure,” the girl says, eyeing each of us like she’s already too embarrassed to ask if we’re old enough.
Once she turns her back, I nestle closer to Adam, tracing my index finger up and down his spine. “Wanna see what kind of bathrooms are in this place? I’ll bet ten bucks they have one of those velvet couches.”