The Dirty Series 2
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Christian
I spread Quinn out on the backseat, hiking her skirt right up around her waist and pulling her panties down to her knees, and delve into the hot slit between her legs, licking and lapping and tasting until I’ve worked her into a frenzy.
I would bet that under normal circumstances Quinn would be a stickler for wearing seat belts, but five minutes under the attentions of my tongue and her eyes are closed and her hands clench involuntarily, moving in rhythm with the pulsing motions of her pussy. I feel the movements under my tongue and my cock, already hard from watching her hips sway as she walked across the sidewalk toward the car, strains against my pants, pulsing impatiently.
We’re still crawling along in Friday rush-hour traffic, creeping slowly through Manhattan, when I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and pull her to a sitting position, pressing her back up against my side. I hold her there, tightly, with one arm while my other hand explores her breasts, diving inside her shirt to tweak her nipples as she writhes against me.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasps, trying to turn to face me. I only press her harder against me.
“Driving you crazy,” I murmur into her ear, and then I slide my hand down between her legs.
She’s soaking wet, her folds soft and perfect, and in three strokes I have her going again. It’s as if the shuddering orgasms she had while I devoured her never happened, or as if they happened but only made her need more.
I circle her clit with my fingertips, softly at first, then harder, increasing the speed until she’s right on the brink, and then I pull my hand away. She inhales sharply and I clap my hand over her mouth just in time to catch her scream of frustration and lust in my palm. Quinn pants against my skin as I dip my fingers into her folds again, thrusting two into her opening and drawing them in and out. She spreads her legs as wide as she can, given the constraints of her panties, and I seize the moment.
Reaching down, I shove her panties toward her shins, and she wriggles her legs so that they slide off, ditching her heels in the process. Then, with one motion, I lift her, turn her, so that she’s straddling me.
She kisses me with such heat that it’s a genuine surprise the car doesn’t burst into flames. Fuck, I love this—the way she uses her entire body to pin me back against the seat, the way she presses her weight against me, driving her hips into my pelvis.
Quinn pulls back, then leans in again to catch my earlobe between her teeth. I can’t stop the groan that escapes my mouth. How does she know to do that? It doesn’t matter. I want her to keep going, and then I want to fuck her until…
Dragging her mouth down my jawline, she leaves a hot, wet trail down the side of my neck, then shifts her weight backward as she reaches for my belt. Her face is focused, eyes heavy and glittering with lust, pupils dilated, and she dispatches the belt with the same dogged efficiency that she uses in the office. My zipper is next, and then I lift my hips toward her so she can tug my pants down around my thighs.
I catch her hands in midair as she reaches for me, and with my fingers curled around each of her wrists, I spread her arms wide, leaning in.
She’s wearing a pale pink button-down top with her now-rumpled pencil skirt, and I take the topmost button between my teeth and give it a sharp jerk. She cries out a little when it pops off, but fuck if I’m going to apologize for destroying one top in the name of pleasure. Two buttons, three, and her lacy bra is exposed, her breath causing her breasts to rise into my face, the smooth skin against my close-shaven jawline.
Quinn looks straight into my eyes, and her mouth curves into a smile so carnal-laced that my cock starts throbbing again. Then she jerks both of her wrists, freeing them from my hands. Not another second passes before her mouth is on mine and she’s lined up her pussy over my cock and fuck, fuck, thrust herself downward, taking all of me inside her hot channel in one swift movement.
She fucks me furiously, relentlessly, a delicate sheen of sweat rising at her hairline as she works herself up and down over me, taking me in so deeply I bottom out, making contact with her ridged barrier over and over.
It’s like she can’t stop herself, and in thirty seconds I’m nearing the edge. She digs her fingers into my shoulders and slams into me, slams, slams, harder, harder, her pussy clenching around me in rhythmic spasms. At the moment of climax, she kisses me, lips parted, moaning into my mouth, and I swallow her pleasure, letting it push me right up to the edge, so close to it that I can’t stop myself…
At the very last possible moment Quinn thrusts herself off of me and backward and sinks down to her knees on the floor of the Town Car, taking me into her mouth, sucking in just as I explode, my hips jerking back and forth. She takes it all.
Christian
I spread Quinn out on the backseat, hiking her skirt right up around her waist and pulling her panties down to her knees, and delve into the hot slit between her legs, licking and lapping and tasting until I’ve worked her into a frenzy.
I would bet that under normal circumstances Quinn would be a stickler for wearing seat belts, but five minutes under the attentions of my tongue and her eyes are closed and her hands clench involuntarily, moving in rhythm with the pulsing motions of her pussy. I feel the movements under my tongue and my cock, already hard from watching her hips sway as she walked across the sidewalk toward the car, strains against my pants, pulsing impatiently.
We’re still crawling along in Friday rush-hour traffic, creeping slowly through Manhattan, when I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and pull her to a sitting position, pressing her back up against my side. I hold her there, tightly, with one arm while my other hand explores her breasts, diving inside her shirt to tweak her nipples as she writhes against me.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasps, trying to turn to face me. I only press her harder against me.
“Driving you crazy,” I murmur into her ear, and then I slide my hand down between her legs.
She’s soaking wet, her folds soft and perfect, and in three strokes I have her going again. It’s as if the shuddering orgasms she had while I devoured her never happened, or as if they happened but only made her need more.
I circle her clit with my fingertips, softly at first, then harder, increasing the speed until she’s right on the brink, and then I pull my hand away. She inhales sharply and I clap my hand over her mouth just in time to catch her scream of frustration and lust in my palm. Quinn pants against my skin as I dip my fingers into her folds again, thrusting two into her opening and drawing them in and out. She spreads her legs as wide as she can, given the constraints of her panties, and I seize the moment.
Reaching down, I shove her panties toward her shins, and she wriggles her legs so that they slide off, ditching her heels in the process. Then, with one motion, I lift her, turn her, so that she’s straddling me.
She kisses me with such heat that it’s a genuine surprise the car doesn’t burst into flames. Fuck, I love this—the way she uses her entire body to pin me back against the seat, the way she presses her weight against me, driving her hips into my pelvis.
Quinn pulls back, then leans in again to catch my earlobe between her teeth. I can’t stop the groan that escapes my mouth. How does she know to do that? It doesn’t matter. I want her to keep going, and then I want to fuck her until…
Dragging her mouth down my jawline, she leaves a hot, wet trail down the side of my neck, then shifts her weight backward as she reaches for my belt. Her face is focused, eyes heavy and glittering with lust, pupils dilated, and she dispatches the belt with the same dogged efficiency that she uses in the office. My zipper is next, and then I lift my hips toward her so she can tug my pants down around my thighs.
I catch her hands in midair as she reaches for me, and with my fingers curled around each of her wrists, I spread her arms wide, leaning in.
She’s wearing a pale pink button-down top with her now-rumpled pencil skirt, and I take the topmost button between my teeth and give it a sharp jerk. She cries out a little when it pops off, but fuck if I’m going to apologize for destroying one top in the name of pleasure. Two buttons, three, and her lacy bra is exposed, her breath causing her breasts to rise into my face, the smooth skin against my close-shaven jawline.
Quinn looks straight into my eyes, and her mouth curves into a smile so carnal-laced that my cock starts throbbing again. Then she jerks both of her wrists, freeing them from my hands. Not another second passes before her mouth is on mine and she’s lined up her pussy over my cock and fuck, fuck, thrust herself downward, taking all of me inside her hot channel in one swift movement.
She fucks me furiously, relentlessly, a delicate sheen of sweat rising at her hairline as she works herself up and down over me, taking me in so deeply I bottom out, making contact with her ridged barrier over and over.
It’s like she can’t stop herself, and in thirty seconds I’m nearing the edge. She digs her fingers into my shoulders and slams into me, slams, slams, harder, harder, her pussy clenching around me in rhythmic spasms. At the moment of climax, she kisses me, lips parted, moaning into my mouth, and I swallow her pleasure, letting it push me right up to the edge, so close to it that I can’t stop myself…
At the very last possible moment Quinn thrusts herself off of me and backward and sinks down to her knees on the floor of the Town Car, taking me into her mouth, sucking in just as I explode, my hips jerking back and forth. She takes it all.