Page 85 of Golden Rule

Blue smiles and I catch it in my peripheral vision. Then she shakes her head, searching for something inside her purse.

“Then, he just sits there,” I add, still on a rant. “That asshole was actually pretending to be innocent, like he wasn’t testing me.”

Blonde hair whips toward me as Blue gathers it into a ponytail, wrapping the hair tie she found around it. Then, when she’s done, she undoes her seatbelt and leans toward me.

“What are you doing?”

The question leaves my mouth, but half a second later, I understand even without her explanation.

“You’re tense,” she says. “So… I’m doing something about it.”

Her hand smooths across my crotch after she speaks, and with so little contact, I’m hard as a brick. My heart races ten times faster when she undoes the button of my jeans, then lowers my zipper. She works her hand into the slit of my boxers, and I’m grateful for blacked out windows when she grips my cock, freeing it from the fabric.

“Focus on the road,” she demands, and that’s a lot easier said than done when the next sensation I’m hit with is the feel of her tongue sweeping over the tip of my dick. She squeezes just enough to drive me insane, then lowers her mouth onto me completely, taking as much of my length as she can.

“Holy shit.”

The heat of her soft, wet mouth consumes me, and the sound of her sucking and slurping fills the cab of the truck. Without missing a beat, she reaches for the volume knob and cranks itup, overloading my senses with loud music that becomes the soundtrack to her incessant bobbing on my cock.

I’ve already accepted that I won’t last very long.

We approach an intersection, and because I’m distracted by the pressure building, I slam on the brakes at the last second, nearly rear-ending the garbage truck in front of us. Blue giggles, knowing she’s the cause of my reckless driving, and the vibration in her throat only makes my cock more sensitive.

“I’m gonna fucking come,” I warn her, and at my words, she slips a hand underneath my shirt, stroking my stomach and chest as she sucks harder, faster, massaging the veins in my shaft with her tongue.

Another near accident—this time with a biker crossing the crosswalk—and I make a snap decision. The next alleyway we approach, I turn down the narrow passage, and don’t even bother being discreet, slamming on the brakes beside a random dumpster behind a sandwich shop. The second the truck is in park, my hands are free, so I’m touching her, moving her ponytail out of her face, stroking her back because that’s the only part of her I can reach at this angle.

My head falls back, making a loud thud against the headrest as I hit the button to recline a little. She’s killing me, relentlessly sucking me in, driving me so insane that I bite down on my own fist.

It feels like a jolt of tingling electricity shoots through my limbs as she focuses her attention on my tip, sucking only there now. I’m tense beyond belief, but it’s the good kind of tension, which I think she knows based on how I can hardly catch my fucking breath.

I place my hand on top of hers where it covers my heart, and when I can’t hold back anymore…

“Fucking hell,” I groan, exploding in her mouth. At the first taste of my cum hitting her tongue, she sucks harder, swallowingeverything, squeezing my chest as my heart beats wildly beneath her palm.

It feels like I’m coming forever, but she never stops, devouring my dick until the literal last drop is drained out of me.

She lowers the radio’s volume now, and I’m too relaxed to move even when she sits straight again, undoing her ponytail to let the length of her hair fall over her shoulders.

“Shit.”

That single, breathy word is the only one I can formulate right now. Blue seems to notice I’m incapacitated and decides to tuck me back into my underwear. But before she can zip my jeans, a shadow darkens the driver-side window just before an officer knocks.

“Fuck. Fuck!” I fumble with my zipper as I raise my seat, but then I give up in favor of lowering my t-shirt over the top of my jeans instead.

Blue straightens her shirt, then tries to look innocent in the passenger seat as I lower my window.

“Good afternoon, Officer.”

“Good afternoon,” he says back, and a moment later, recognition sets in. “West Golden.”

His expression is still friendly, so I assume he recognizes me from football andnotthe bullshit my father pulled in this city years ago.

“Didn’t realize it was you,” he says. “I saw an expensive vehicle parked down here, and windows tinted this dark usually means someone wants to hide illegal activity, so…”

“No problem. We were just about to leave.”

“Good idea. This really isn’t the safest place to be parked,” he smiles.

---