Page 124 of Trapped with the Billionaire

I pulled out my big, thick prize and started stroking.

His breath hitched, and he scooted his pants down a few inches on one side, then the other.

Now I could reach his balls as well. His cock was warm and hard in my hand as I looked out the windshield and one-handed him. “How’s this?”

“You have no idea.” He gave a little jerk as I squeezed the tip.

“Oh, I think I do.” I laid the washcloth over the top and continued my hand action, looking over at his expression every once in a while. The rest of the time, I kept my eyes forward, just like any other passenger in the cars in the other lanes. The height of his Escalade kept the others from looking down into his lap to see my hand bobbing under the cloth.

“Jesus, I can’t take this.”

“You threatened to jizz in your pants. I’m just helping the process along,” I said with a smile. I stilled my hand. “You want me to stop?”

“Hell, no.”

Before long, my arm grew tired, and I couldn’t change hands without making it obvious what we were doing. I decided we had to speed this up. “You have no idea how wet I get when I hold your cock. It makes me want to beg you to pull over and do me in the backseat. I don’t care if anybody sees us. I need you inside me, baby. I need this.” I squeezed. “I don’t know if I’m going to last until we get home. We’re going to have to find a place behind a tree or, I don’t care, anywhere I can bend over.”

I looked over at his clenched jaw.

His leg started to shake.

“I want you to pound into me like there’s no tomorrow. Pound me so hard I can’t walk.”

That last line got him over the edge, and he jerked under my hand. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I reached over, held the washcloth in place, and milked his throbbing cock.

The magic of dirty talk had done its job.

His shallow, rapid breaths slowly returned to normal. “I have to take you on more road trips.”

I cleaned him up and stowed the cloth on the floor of the backseat. “You know, if you had an old pickup with a bench seat, this could be reciprocal.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

I got tingles just thinking about driving down the freeway next to Josh with his magic fingers down my pants, me with my head back, screaming, while the cars one lane over were oblivious—the danger of public mutual masturbation at freeway speeds. So long as we didn’t pull up next to a semi, everything would be great.

I had Josh back together and buckled up by the time he turned south on the 710 toward Long Beach.

“Nickels, you can have the table tonight, or any other damned thing you want when we get back,” he said with a contented smile.

“I’ll let you know.” Sandy had once told me I should try up against a door, and tonight might be my chance.

As we got closer to the water, we continued south toward the harbor, not the sand.

He turned left, and suddenly the Queen Mary loomed ahead.

“Sorry to break it to you, USC, but that ship doesn’t qualify as a beach.”

He nodded wordlessly and continued past it. The building he parked in front of scared me shitless: Catalina Express.

“We’re taking the ferry to Santa Catalina.”

Painful memories came flooding back, and my stomach lurched.

I unbuckled, threw open the door, and got out just in time.

With my hands on my knees, my breakfast splattered on the asphalt.

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