Page 22 of Good Guy Gabe

“You are so fucking hot,” Gabe groans. “You’re about to come all over my pants, aren’t you?”

I’ll be embarrassed about this later. I’ll get all stuck in my head trying to figure out why I’m so easily set off by him. For now, I bear down on him, mindlessly working myself to orgasm.

Gabe doesn’t seem to be bothered. In fact, he digs his hands into my ass, pulling my cheeks apart to expose me further to the chilled air pumping through the a/c and giving him plenty of space to sink two thick fingers into my pussy.

I cry out, pushing into him in shock and then shifting back against his hand to force him to go deeper.

“Take it,” he encourages me, bending and spreading his fingers, lighting me up. “Take everything you want before I take what I want.”

I’m going to come. I’m right there. And I want more. I want it all. Pushing my weight off of him sinks his fingers further, making it worth it to relieve the pressure from my clit. I fight with his belt as I bounce on his lap, obsessed with the way his splayed fingers stretch my rim and dig into my inner walls.

He does nothing to help me get into his pants, but the intensity of his gaze tells me this is exactly what he wants me to do. He wants me to loosen myself up so I’m ready to take him once I get his cock free.

“Do it, Joss.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about coming or getting into his pants, but they both happen at the same time. I lift right off him, squeaking out his name as my hand hits snug synthetic shorts with a pocket the cup’s tucked into. I manage to pull it out, finally feeling the shape of his hard, thick cock attempting to unfurl itself.

My orgasm has me shaking and bucking and desperate for more. It’s right there, I can feel it, and I knowI knowI’m going to feel so much better once that thing is stuffed inside me, but I can’t seem to get to it. “Why are these so fucking tight?” I screech.

“That’s so cute when you swear.”

And then I’m whimpering because Gabe’s taken his fingers away, but he needs them to get into those stupidly tight shorts.

I salivate at the sight of his cock once it springs free, thick and veiny, and I swear it looks angrily red even though there’s barely light between us. I grab for it, and pre-cum sputters out.

Gabe grunts. “I’m not gonna make it.”

He’s going to make it. I need to feel him inside me, I need to split myself open on him. I need him buried to the hilt for a second. That’s it.

I don’t hesitate, holding his cock steady and lurching myself up, hitting my head on the roof of the truck as I notch him at my entrance and sinking my full weight on him.

Loud sounds come from us both, and I’m thinking I’m not the only one this was too much for. He’sbig, but I didn’t give myself time to think about that, as desperate as I was. Painshoots through me, immediately leveling out to an ache that makes every muscle tighten, strangling his cock.

But it’s exactly what I want.

We both struggle to catch our breaths, but I finally settle myself enough to keep going only to realize the mistake we made. I lift myself up off him with a curse. “Dammit, is there a condom here?”

Gabe lurches up out of his seat, his eyes wild and dazed, his cock already nudging at my core again. After a second, he blinks. “I had a vasectomy.”

“What?” I don’t even understand what the word means at first. I just need something between us so we don’t regret this later, and that’s a condom. But then it clicks.

Birth control.

He so emphatically doesn’t want kids that he’s had surgery to prevent them.

And I don’t want to get pregnant tonight, of course, that’s part of why a condom is so critical. I barely know Gabe. This has been such a crazy whirlwind that I threw out my usual inhibitions, but we’re nowhere close to being ready for kids. I can’t even say we’re officially dating. We haven’t had a full date yet.

But I do want kids. Desperately. I always have. And I got so close, only to have the opportunity stolen from me in the most devastating way possible. So it’s sobering to know Gabe has gone to such extremes to prevent it.

This is a problem. A big one. A problem that potentially ends the relationship we’re not even in.

But it’s a problem for another day.

“Oh, and I just had a physical with the works,” he adds. “We all get them. Negative for STDs. And everything else. Except my blood pressure’s high. But I’m good here.”

I nod. “Right. Good. So am I.”

He snags me by the chin, tilts me to meet his eyes and then draws me to his lips again. “We can stop if you want.”

---