Page 62 of Playboy Pitcher
Finally hearing the beep granting me access, I rub her through her panties as I wrench the door open. “Inside. Now.”
Eloquence isn’t a priority when all the blood in my body is directed elsewhere.
I climb inside first, dragging her behind me. Once I have her on my lap, I close the door, and take her mouth in another demanding kiss.
“Shouldn’t we move to the back?” she mumbles against my lips, tossing her backpack into the passenger’s seat.
“Too far,” I growl, moving her leg on the other side of my waist so that she’s straddling me. “Can’t wait.” It’s not a lie. If my dick gets any harder, it’ll need medical attention. Pushing her against the steering wheel, I brush my palms up her thighs, dragging that damn plaid skirt up as I go.
Reaching her apex, I dip my fingers under the edges of the lace barrier when she grabs my wrists. “Are we just doing this because we’re drunk?”
“I’m not drunk, Puddles. I’m very sober, and I know exactly what I’m doing. But if you don’t, then I suggest you put a stop to this right now.”
Licking her lips, Willow looks down at mine, only a flash of caution in her eyes before it’s swallowed by blind lust. Instead of answering, she crushes her mouth against mine, and I’m done.
Un-fucking-raveled.
“Just tonight,” she mumbles. “One time. No expectations. No strings.”
“A little too late for strings, don’t you think, Mrs. LaCroix?”
“Signatures on a piece of paper can be erased, Ben. Don’t tell me lies you think I want to hear. This is a fast fuck, not a fake promise.”
“Oh, sweetheart. There’s nothing fast about how I fuck.” Sliding my hand back up her thigh, I wrap my fingers around the tiny string resting across her hip. “It’s hard…” I give the material a sharp tug, the sound of ripping lace bringing a smirk to my lips. “It’s loud…” Snaking my hand back down, I dip my fingers between her legs and slide one between her wet folds. “And it’s brutal…” Grabbing the back of her head, I crush her mouth to mine as I drive my finger inside her. Willow stifles a gasp and then bites down on my bottom lip. I pull back, groaning with need as her teeth scrape my flesh. “But it’s definitely not fast.”
“Ben…” Her head falls back as I release my grip. After pumping a few more times, I remove my finger. Her little frustrated whine only makes me smile.
Oh, I’m just getting started, Puddles.
Holding her eye, I lick every drop of her arousal off my finger. Fucking hell, she’s sweet and addictive. Like a goddamn drug.
But I’ve already set my sights elsewhere. Cupping her breasts, I brush my thumb over her nipples. Willow gasps the harder I rub, so I take a chance and pinch one. Instantly, a flood of wetness stains my jeans.
I’ll be damned. Willow McBaine, you dirty, dirty girl.
The moment I pinch the other one, Willow cries out and dives forward, her fingers finding and releasing the button on my jeans. I don’t say anything. I’m too invested in seeing what she’ll do.
She doesn’t disappoint.
Without hesitation, she reaches inside my boxers and pulls out my cock. Not like it took much effort. It has begged for freedom since she stepped on that stage. As soon as she wraps her hand around the base and starts pumping, the tip leaks in frustration.
“Fuck!” I groan, sucking air between my teeth. The harder I pinch, the harder she pumps. My dick feels like an unwatched pot about to boil over. Any more of this, and I’ll come right here.
“Stop.” Releasing her nipples, I pull her hand away and grab her hips, dragging her close. Her pussy rubs against my cock, and as she moans my name, my lips kiss a desperate trail back down to her hardened nipples. This time, when I take one between my teeth, she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“Ben!” Her voice sounds broken and near ruin.
I can’t fucking take it. I’ve felt her pussy come on my fingers. I’ve licked her sweetness. But I’ve never had my mouth on those gorgeous tits. While rolling my tongue in a vicious circle around the tip, I wrap my hands around the thin straps on her shoulders, barely restraining myself from ripping them too.
I only get them halfway down her arms when she pushes me away. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I growl, diving in again.
“Ben, we’re in a public parking lot. This is one thing,” she says, gesturing toward her destroyed panties and my exposed cock. “People can’t seethis. But the window is right there,” she reminds me, pointing toward the glass. “They’ll seeme.”
“Let them look. Your body is a fucking work of art, Willow.Youshould be in a gallery in Paris.”
Her eyes widen. “You want other men to see me?”
