Will I Do It Again? (5)

Will I Do It Again? (5)
I suck and stroke him fast without stopping, until his body goes rigid and he ejaculates across my palm.

Immediately, I cover his tip with my lips, swallowing every drop as it sputters out, before licking my hand clean right in front of his face.

He slumps back against the headrest, gasping for air.

I part my lips, showing him the thick white pool sitting on my tongue.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he gestures toward the rubber floor mat below.

"Spit it out down there," he pants, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "I'll wipe it up later."

Instead, I curl my tongue back, swallow it down in one smooth gulp, and flash him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in genuine shock.

Maybe no one has ever swallowed his cum before.

I smile and run my hands around my boobs.

I'm still burning with desire.

For one stupid second, I remember Calista sitting beside me years ago, laughing about how her father could never say no to her.

She'd said it like it was a joke.

If she knew where I was right now, she wouldn't find it funny.

"Time to take proper care of you," I whisper, shifting my weight to climb over his lap.

He snaps his hand out, pressing a firm palm against my chest to stop me.

The change in him is so sudden that I almost don't recognize the man from a few seconds ago.

"Wait," he mutters, breathing heavily. "I don't have a condom. I don't want to get you pregnant."

I glare down at him, my brow furrowing.

Pregnant?

Until now, I'd been thinking of this as something separate from the rest of my life. Now, he's dragged tomorrow into the car with us.

Does this idiot think I'm some naive, clueless teenager? I'm almost twenty-one years old.

He's not the first man to touch me, and he certainly won't be the last.

He reaches for the central lock button to end the encounter, but I shove his hand away, pinning him back against the driver's door.

The hunger is still there, but something colder has pushed its way through it.

"Not so fast, Catechist," I snarl, my voice dropping an octave. "You can't leave me sex starved after I relieved you."

"Abigail, stop," he snaps, his face darkening with sudden irritation. "I said no. I'm not risking a baby."

I should stop.

That thought lasts less than a second.

Because the truth is, I don't want to stop.

"You won't," I say, pressing my hands flat against his chest, locking him in place. "I know what I'm doing. Just stay still."

He catches my wrist. "Abigail. Look at me."

I do.

For several seconds, neither of us speaks.

"If I tell you to stop, you stop," he finally says.

"And if I tell you I want this?"

His jaw tightens, and he glances briefly outside.

"Then I need to know you mean it."

I hold his gaze. "I mean it."

Only then does his grip loosen

I lift myself and swing my leg over his lap.

He could still easily push me off, but the hunger in his eyes tells me he wants this just as much as I do.

For someone who spends his life telling other people how to behave, he looks remarkably lost right now.

I should feel victorious. Instead, something strange twists in my stomach.

This was supposed to make me feel powerful. Instead, I can't shake the feeling that I've handed him more of me than I intended.

I reach behind my back, grab his semi-hard length, and guide the tip directly to my pussy.

I sink down slowly.

He's thick and stretches me as he fills me, making a soft gasp escape his lips.

I hold onto his shoulders for support and start to move on top of him, slowly at first, feeling the deep pressure in my lower belly.

His head falls back against the window frame, a long groan rattling out of his chest.

I pick up the pace, lifting my hips and slamming back down against his thighs.

Warm tears trail down my cheeks-not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

I don't mind.

All I want now is satisfaction.

I want all of him.

His hands fly to my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as he takes control from below, thrusting upward to meet every drop of my weight.

His movements become frantic. He drives into me hard, hitting sensitive spots deep inside that make me almost regret letting him take charge.

I shouldn't be enjoying this.

I rest forward against his chest, burying my face in his neck, my small moans swallowed by the loud, wet rhythm of our bodies colliding.

"I'm... I'm going to..." I gasp out, clutching his shirt in tight fists. "I need to... stop-"

He doesn't listen. He locks his arms around my waist, pinning me flush against his torso, and drives one last time upward.

I cry out as a strong wave rushes through my lower abdomen, followed by a warm release between us.

He growls, shudders beneath me, and then his body goes completely limp.

I collapse on top of his chest, completely spent.

I can feel his fluid leaking out of me as his dick slips from my body, dropping heavily onto his thigh.

"You're incredible, Abigail," he murmurs, his hand lazily tracing the curve of my hip. "We're going to do this again."

I don't answer.

I'm too exhausted to care about his compliments. My limbs feel like lead, my eyelids are heavy, and my muscles are completely drained.

I sit back up, scanning the road for any sign of someone lurking nearby.

It's completely deserted.

And then it dawns on me.

This isn't some stranger I'll never see again.

Tomorrow, he'll still be her father. I'll still be her friend. We'll all have to sit in the same rooms and pretend today never happened.

Do I regret it? No.

Will I do it again? Absolutely.