Page 58 of The Woman with the Wallet

Part of me wanted to fist her hair and drag her up by it, demand she slip out of her pants and panties, then pull her onto my lap, feel myself slip deep inside her in one stroke.

The other part was loving how much she seemed to be enjoying going down on me. The same way I’d enjoyed doing the same for her.

So I let her, sitting back, allowing the desire to overtake me. “Fuck, sugar,” I groaned as she worked me faster still, moving her head in little twisting motions as she took me. “You’re so good at that.”

She made another of those little moans around me, liking the praise.

But before I could give her any more, she had me right there at the edge. “Max, I’m—“ I started, breath panting, thinking of the glovebox, of the cleanup.

Max was having none of it, though.

Instead, she sucked me deep enough that when I came, it was right down her throat.

I swear my fucking vision went white at the intensity as a hushed curse escaped me and Max moaned again.

She waited until I was fully spent before moving away, turning her face away as I tucked my cock back away and redid my pants.

“We, ah, we need to find that other guy,” she said, head turned to look out her side window.

Was she embarrassed by her enthusiasm?

That shit wasn’t going to stand.

She was also right, though. Time was of the essence.

But, hey, I’d always been a good multitasker.

So I shifted the car into drive and started to move, holding the wheel with one hand as my other moved out, slipped under the waistband of her pants.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but her airy voice betrayed her need.

“Be a good girl and let me touch your sweet pussy again,” I said, glancing over to watch the internal battle play across her face. The part of her that wanted to be offended by being called a good girl. And the part that loved it.

It was the latter that won.

Mostly.

“You’re driving,” she said, but her head was back against the rest, her breath coming fast and shallow.

“And, yet, I can still do this,” I said, my hand going into her panties, palm against her clit, and two fingers slipping inside of her.

Her moan filled the silent car as her pussy tightened around my fingers, begging for more.

I was too happy to give, happy for the distraction as we drove down the dead streets. Too late for the night shift, too early for the morning. The world felt like ours alone as my fingers fucked her, as she rocked herself against my palm, her moans getting louder and louder with each passing second.

Until, with the tensing of her whole body, she came, her walls clutching around my fingers over and over before the orgasm finally let go of her.

Finished, I slid my fingers out of her as I pulled into a parking spot. Then, waiting for her gaze to find mine, I slipped my fingers into my mouth, her sweet taste exploding across my taste buds once again.

Then, because I knew she would quickly start to try to put her guards back up, I cut the engine.

“It’s no use telling you to stay here. So, just stay behind me,” I told her as I climbed out and reached for my gun.

Unlike Henry, Chuck lived in a little house rental on a street full of similar ones. Capes and craftsman homes with postage-stamp-sized front yards.

Lots of people to look out, to see us.

Seeming to think the same thing at the same time, Max yanked up her hood as I suddenly became thankful that I never drove out on a job with the real plates on my car.

---