4
austin
McKenzie staresout the open passenger window. I’d hoped some fresh night air would help her sober up, while snuffing out the flame that sparked the instant her lips met mine. But the burn continues to smolder. I’m already logging the seconds ‘til I can pull her flush against me and taste her lips again.
I reach over and give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Why’d you wait so long?” It’s the first thing she’s said since we hit the road twenty minutes ago. I raise the windows by a few inches so we don’t have to shout over the wind.
“I wasn't sure if you were ready for that. I didn't want to push you into anything.”
She seems to accept my answer, yet the dreamy glint in her eye tells me she’s got a couple more hours to go before the tequila is through with her. Her eyes drift shut.Good. The best thing she can do for herself right now is sleep. She looked exhausted at work today. I hope she’s not still having trouble falling asleep—
She guides my hand between her thighs and holds me there.
My dick perks up at the realization that the only thing standing between my hand and McKenzie’s cunt, at most, is a couple layers of fabric. Her eyes are still closed, but she's clearly wide awake, and not in control of herself.
Fuck, this is gonna kill me.I pull my hand away, and the look of confusion she throws my way breaks my fucking heart.
“I won't touch you like that while you're drunk,” I say.
She nods like she understands, and thank fucking God because I’m not sure if I’d be able to pull away if she forced my hand again. She shifts in her seat. I don’t realize she’s pulled her pants down until they’re already at her knees.
“Kenz,” I growl.
“I’m not asking you to touch me.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
Apart from torturing me.
She slips her shoes off so her pants and underwear can puddle on the floor.
“I’m touching myself,” she says.
Desire burns through me as I death grip the steering wheel. It's a colossal effort, keeping my hands to myself and my eyes on the road, when the girl I can’t get enough of is half naked right beside me.
I should tell her to get dressed, but God help me, I lose the words the instant she spreads her legs. At the end of the day, I’m just a man. If God wants her to put her pants back on, he can tell her himself.
The light from the dash isn’t much to see by, but I can make out her pussy lips well enough to know that I’m gonna want a closer look—and a taste—the instant she’s sober.
“You should feel how wet I am.”
No, I remind myself,I really should not.
The sound of her fingers sluicing through her wetness is like hearing my favorite song come on the radio. I want to create a brand-new station just for this track, and let it play all day every day, back-to-back.
“Tell me how it feels, baby.” I might not be able to touch her, but I can still help her along.
She moans softly. “So good.”
“Are you rubbing your clit or fingering your pussy?”
“My clit.”
“Put two fingers inside yourself. Get ‘em nice and slippery.”
I glance over in time to watch her add a second hand between her legs. Her scent fills the cab. If my pants aren’t soaked with pre-cum by the time we hit my driveway, it’ll be a Goddamn miracle.