Page 21 of Good Guy Gabe

“Seeing if I can figure out how cups come off.”

He chuckles, the sound low and husky. He looks around, gaze traveling from one side of the road to the other, before he flips his blinker on. “Not too much of a challenge, that, but you should take your skirt off instead.”

My heart races at the challenge he proposes so easily, without a thought to whether we should do this or not.

I can’t be nearly so casual though, and I’m terrified my words are going to get stuck in my throat. I am not a bold person. This is not who I am.

But it’s who Gabe makes me want to be.

“It’s your turn,” I insist.

He guides his truck onto a service road that leads us into the woods. There’s no sign saying we can’t be here, but it feels a bit like a horror movie. He parks and kills the headlights but leaves the engine running, the dashboard providing just enough illumination. “I’m not going to have Cora kill me because I tore or stained your skirt. Take it off.”

He’s so laid-back and friendly that the bite to his tone now catches my attention. It’s not rude or demanding. It’s patient but leaves no room to counter.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and shimmy out of my skirt.

He holds his hand out to me, so I hand it to him and watch, intrigued, as he handles it delicately, finding the seams where he can fold it without leaving ugly creases and laying it on his back seat.

“Now your panties.”

Is he going to dictate everything we do? I’m a pacifist down to my bones and have never found myself attracted to aggressive guys, but the way he defended me against both Blaise and Evan has me thinking I might be willing to do whatever he tells me to.

Not only does he fold my panties neatly, he tucks them under my skirt. He doesn’t leer at them or do anything else that might turn me off. Only once they’re hidden away does he say, “Are you wet for me, Joss?”

The reflection of the dashboard speckles in green and blue starbursts in his eyes.

I nod.

“Does that leather seat feel nice on your pussy?”

My eyes widen at the awareness. I never would have noticed if he hadn’t said it, but now, the cool, smooth leather is all I can think about. My core clenches, and the suction from my slickness tugs at me. Tiny bubbles of air tickle up and down the length of my slit, making me even wetter.

Gabe’s smile is a knowing one. He unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes the seat back as far as it’ll go, reclining it a couple notches. With a flip up of the center console, opening up more space next to him, he pats his thighs. “Now come see how your pussy feels here.”

My nerves frizzle slightly on that. I’d been thinking a hand job or even a blow job. He takes up so much space that I’m not sure how well I’ll fit there. We’re only twenty minutes from home; wouldn’t it make more sense to invite him in?

I’ve never invited a man in. I once brought a guy to the barn just to avoid bringing him up to my apartment. But I doubt the workbench could take Gabe’s weight.

He must see my hesitation, but he’s nothing less than casual with, “Or we could do something else if you don’t want this.”

He tucks his hands behind his head, relaxing back, waiting patiently, and it’s exactly what I need. My eyes travel up his form, so at odds with himself with his hulking form and his sleek suit, his friendly face and his heavy eyes, laid-back but fully aware that I’m going to take his offer.

He helps me position myself, strong hands deftly maneuvering my legs so that my thighs hug his. A faint draft wicks between my legs, parted enough by his broad lap that I’m spread open.

He flicks my clit, just once, but it’s enough to have my back curling around the steering wheel.

That husky laugh. A teasing, “Were you really planning to just jerk me off?”

I wasn’t planning on anything. I’m flying blind here. But I can’t resist pointing out, “How is that different from what you did in the bathroom?”

“Oh, so you’re gonna catch an attitude now?”

I steadfastly fight and fail to hold back my pout, which results in Gabe hooking my top by the gore and pulling me down onto him. It gives him enough space to smack my ass just enough to make my flesh sing as our lips meet.

Momentum and gravity drop me onto him, and he’s so big that there’s nothing for me to brace myself on but his shoulders. I rest my forearms on him, but it only leaves a sliver of spacebetween us. I slide on his lap, and the coarseness of his pants rubs along my sensitive, swollen slit.

He’s still zipped up, and now the hard shell within is obvious. I grind against it, a part of me wishing it was his cock that I felt there, but the purely sensation-driven nerve endings in my clit forcing me to moan into his mouth.

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