Did I bend over too far when climbing in? Of course.
Still nothing. It was like a barrier went up the second we left the bar. Oscar got moody sometimes; it was part of his charm in my eyes.
He closed the door, moving with purpose around to his side. I slid my skirt up my thighs to give him a full view of the garters when he climbed in, and after he started the truck he peeled out and raced down Main Street.
Still . . . nothing.
I wasn’t misreading the situation. I could see the prominent outline of his dick in his jeans. He was totally hard but not making a move.
Leaning over, I pushed the armrest back and slid across to the middle of the seat, close enough to feel the heat coming off him in waves. I took his hand, held it, and waited. Interlocking our fingers, I moved his hand to my knee and then slowly slid it up to my thigh while spreading my legs slightly in the dark cab.
It was what I was feeling, and what I knew he was feeling. The little sparky static from the hosiery, the goose bumps covering my leg, the shiver I got when he finally hit the garter.
“You know, there’s something I can’t stop thinking about,” I said, spreading my legs farther.
“What’s that?” he asked, his voice strained, his hand on my thigh growing hot.
I flattened my hands on the hem of my skirt and slid it up slowly. Oscar’s jaw ticked in the moonlight.
“Us fucking in your truck. Pretty sure you mentioned that.”
When we slowed to a halt at the stoplight, I plucked the garter clip between my fingers and pulled it up. His eyes slid to the little black fastener and watched as I released it with an audible snap against my skin.
My hips bucked from the zip of pain. Oscar released a grunt that came from the back of his throat. It was thrilling to watch his knuckles turn white from strain. The hand that stayed on my thigh was clenched in a fist as if he were deliberately trying to not touch me the way we both knew he wanted to.
“Mmm, Oscar, what are you thinking?” I asked, running my hands down my chest before unhooking my belt and sliding the hem of the turtleneck up over my breasts and exposing my bra.
His hand flew to the steering wheel, and he held on so tight that I swear I heard the plastic crack beneath his palms.
I twisted in the seat so my head was leaning against the passenger door, lifting my feet up onto his lap and parting my knees. When I inched the skirt up higher he got a great view of my new panties and exactly what the garters were for.
He growled, and I felt the rumble of his chest right between my legs. I sat up enough to pull the sweater over my head before unclasping the front of the bra.
“Fuck,” he whispered, and looked into the rearview mirror before giving the truck a hard turn to the left. “Hold on,” he said, dropping his hand once more on my thigh and sliding it on home.
Finally.
He didn’t even bother shutting off the ignition before he flung his door open and dropped out of the car. I barely had time to blink before he grabbed my ankle and pulled me unceremoniously to the edge of the car, my legs hanging out of the driver’s-side door, my head conking prettily on the steering wheel.
He was unzipped in a flash, a condom rolled on before I could even rub my head. Oscar took my ankles and placed them on his shoulders, ballooning my skirt, then kissing his way down to my knees while he stroked himself.
“Please,” I begged, pulling at my nipples beneath the bra cups.
“Not yet,” he whispered between kisses.
One finger ran from my belly button to my panties and back up, each time getting just close enough that I thought, Here we go! He was making me crazy, driving me wild, with the sheer insanity of what we were doing and where we were doing it.
When I finally couldn’t take the teasing anymore, I reached down and slid my panties to the side, the chill sending a shock through my body.
“That’s my girl,” he purred, taking the head of his cock and placing it just there. Just enough that my eyes rolled back in anticipation.
There was something so dirty about all of this but I didn’t care. Here we were . . . somewhere. Lord knows who might come pulling up alongside. He couldn’t even take off my panties before he slipped inside and moaned into the darkness.
He held them off to the side with one hand, the other holding my ankle near his lips, where he peppered kisses against it in time with his thrusts.
Oscar wasn’t moving fast, but he wasn’t slow, either. His movements were measured. He was painstakingly taking his time and not just letting loose.
“I could fuck you like this all night, Pinup,” he said, slapping my ass with his free hand.
“Yes. Please,” I chanted in time with his thrusts, and something snapped in him. His hips slammed into me, the truck literally rocking while he fucked me.