Page 43 of Plunge

“Racecar driver,” Thistle says at the same time as him.

“That’s right. That’s right. You know her work.” Thistle grins. “Our engine prototype is here at the show,” he says. “And we hope to enter the circuit later this year.”

Thistle’s face lights up. “Fletcher works in the racing industry,” she says. “Remind me the name of your company, dear?”

I ignore her emphasis on the word dear and tell Sebastian about Fleet Productions. We talk for awhile and he walks us over to the car with his engine inside. He shakes Thistle’s hand a million more times and gives her his card. “I’ll see you in Bahrain,” I say, offering him a quick salute as I try to get Thistle out of there.

I keep thinking about how we were interrupted in the alcove, and I can’t wait to get my hands back on her. She stops to look under the hood of another model on a pedestal, and I press up behind her, letting her feel where my head is at right now.

She turns around abruptly, and licks her lips.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper. She shakes her head and looks around, searching for something. She grabs my hand and tugs me down a hall. As she counts doors on one of the walls I remember what she’s looking for.

When we came here and I showed her the Gullwing the first time, I dragged her into a small office and screwed her senseless. That’s probably when she got pregnant. I shake that thought off as Thistle backs into the doorway, grinning at me.

“This is a terrible idea,” she says. I nod and pull the door shut behind me. I grab a chair and wedge it under the door handle, and then I fit my hands around her hips.

“What’s one more time when we’ve already made bad choices?” She swallows and leans back on a dusty table. I step in between her legs.

“Let me see,” I say, running my hands down her legs. She inches the hem of her skirt up higher, but she’s going too slowly, so I spread her knees and toss up the green material.

I skim my fingertips along her lace panties, watching her body move as her breathing comes faster and harder. The apex of her thighs is damp and, without a word, she lifts her hips for me so I can slide the panties down her legs. I drop them on the floor and sink to my knees, my fingers carefully parting her open.

Thistle is pink and swollen and so wet. I lean in and give her a long lick. My dick gets harder when I hear her breathy moan, and I slide a finger inside her. She’s slick and hot. I nudge at her clit with my nose as I slide my tongue inside her pussy.

She clamps her thighs against my cheeks and I can feel my coarse stubble rasping against her tender skin. But I don’t stop. “Fletcher, god, that feels good,” she says. I look up and she’s leaning back on her elbows, her head dropped back in pleasure.

Thistle tastes sweeter than I remember. I lap at her until I can’t stand it anymore. I need to be inside her and ease the pressure I’m feeling in my pants. I stand up and unzip, startling when Thistle’s hand snaps out to grab at my cock.

Her palm is soft and warm, and I love the feel of it around my hard, throbbing skin. I hiss when she gives me a squeeze and then bends down, the pink tip of her tongue jutting out to circle the head. I ease one hand into her hair, tugging her up and back. “If you don’t want me to come on that dress right now, you need to get your mouth off me.” My voice is raspy.

She pouts at me, and keeps her hand on my shaft. “There’s a condom in my purse,” she says, and I remember that we used the one from my wallet last time. She doesn’t show any signs of letting go of my dick, so I lean to the side where she’s dropped her purse and coat on the ground.

I find the wrapper and roll the condom on so fast I worry I might chafe myself, but Thistle leans back and lets her legs drop open, waiting and ready, and I don’t waste any time notching myself at her entrance.

I lock my eyes on hers when I slide inside and I nearly drown in her blue gaze. She’s tight around me as I start to move, and she uses her legs to draw me closer. As I start to thrust into her, she reaches around and palms my ass.

“You like this? You like fucking me in a closet because you can’t wait to find a bed?”

She bites my lip and I pinch her nipple in response. “Faster,” she says, and I redouble my efforts. Thistle starts wriggling on the table, trying to get more friction on her needy little clit as I pound into her, so I hook a hand around her waist, propping her up against my body, letting her get that contact she’s desperate for.

She’s got two hands on my ass now and I start to suck on her neck, lost in the sensations as I pound her. Thistle moans my name as I use my free hand to thumb her nipples through her dress. They’re hard as cherry pits beneath my touch, and I get so fucking excited knowing I’ve driven her to this state.

“Fletcher, yes, more,” she says, and then I grunt as I dig in harder. The edge of the desk is sharp against my thighs but I don’t give a shit when I feel Thistle start to contract around me. She comes slowly and hard, moaning “yes, yes, yes, yes,” over and over and slapping my ass as she finishes the wave of her orgasm.

I can feel my own release building up, and I groan into her mouth, kissing her as I keep going. Suddenly, Thistle slides her little finger in between my ass cheeks, breaching the barrier of my hole, and my eyes fly wide. Cum barrels through my balls and into the condom inside her, so hard, so fast.

“Fuck,” I groan. “Holy shit, Thiss.” My body is twitching, spasming and I lean against her. She wraps her arms around me and holds me until I come back to earth. “That was…fuck.” I’m panting and Thistle grins. She tosses her hair back over one shoulder and stands up.

“I know,” she says. “Not bad.” She pulls up her panties and walks up to me, smooths out my collar and nods her head toward the door. “Come on,” she says, tugging my hand. “We have to get back to real life.”

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