I should’ve been worried or embarrassed. Instead, I only wondered what it would look like to him if he opened the door, if he could see the way my legs were hooked up over Landon’s arms. If the and would enjoy watching Landon’s dick sliding in and out of me, if my moans would turn him on.
Landon picked up the tempo, bracing himself over me with one hand on the chair, one elbow on the console. The space was tight—too tight for him to fuck me as hard as he’d done at his house—but the angle was agonizingly perfect. His dick was hitting me at just the right spot, driving me crazy. Making me want more.
How could I want him so much even as he was fucking me? How could it never feel like enough?
“God I love you beneath me,” he said, gritting his teeth as he pounded into me. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
I moaned, gripping the leather seat. The car had to be rocking now, with the force of his thrusts.
I glanced out the window again, to see if anyone else was coming, but a fog was beginning to coat the glass, making it hard to see. The inside of the car smelled like sex, musky and seductive.
He was almost entirely clothed, and my sheath dress covered everything down to my hips, where it was scrunched together to give him access.
Somehow it seemed more obscene, that we were nearly clothed and fucking like this.
“God I wanted to take you like this years ago,” he said. “Every time you were in my car, I imagined bending you over in the back seat.”
“I would’ve let you,” I said, panting. “You could have fucked me any time you wanted.”
He growled, thrusting harder. “I thought of how tight you probably were,” he said. “What it would sound like when you begged me.”
I moaned, leaning back against the chair and looking up at the ceiling as he kissed across my throat. “What you would’ve tasted like, after I came inside you.”
I was being driven crazy, one word at a time.
“I wanted to know how tight your pussy would’ve been when it clenched around me, when I drove you to climax.”
I groaned again, no longer caring how loud I was being, if someone could’ve heard me when passing by.
“I wanted to know how you would look when I pinned you down and fucked you until you cried my name. How you would feel when I came inside you.”
My cries grow louder, more desperate, his words driving me to the brink.
He leaned closer, his lips against my ear. “At night, I would close my eyes, and imagine you riding me. I would hold myself, jacking off to the thought of you.”
And that was it, I cried out as the wave of pleasure hit me, and I went over the edge. My fingernails bit into the leather seats as I climaxed, as my pussy gripped his dick harder and harder, as if milking him.
But he didn’t stop.
Because he wasn’t yet done himself.
“But everything I imagined,” he said, his voice rough and deep. “Will never compare to the way it feels to bury my cock in you.”
And then he thrust hard, one last time, before his dick pulsed inside me. Throbbed, harder than ever as he spilled into me.
I gripped him, clung to his shoulders as his ragged breathing rasped in my ear. He didn’t move, just left my legs looped up over his arms, until our breathing steadied.
And then he kissed me, long and slow.
Finally, he pulled back, his dick sliding out of me. He pulled my dress down over my ass, and then pulled his pants back up, butting them but not bothering with the belt. He caught my eye, caught the quirk in my lips.
“What?”
“When was the last time?” I asked.
“The last time what?”
I grinned. “The last time you pictured me when you were getting yourself off.”
His grin matched mine. “The day before yesterday.”
My grin widened. “Next time, let me watch.”
Chapter 4
Another night spent with Landon. It was starting to feel almost normal, sleeping close together, the scent of him, his body, the feel of his sheets and his blankets. I loved every second of it, even if Landon had been uneasy and restless during the night.
The funeral was the following day, and although Landon had said he didn’t wasn’t going to attend, I knew the second I saw the color of his slacks and tie that he was going. No one dressed in head-to-toe black for any other reason.
So without a discussion, I donned the second of the two outfits I’d purchased with Landon’s money, this one a simple black pencil skirt, crème silk blouse, and a black fitted blazer. I felt powerful in this outfit, like I could take on one of Landon’s board members in a debate.
Like I could take on Alexa herself.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed that feeling of power, that the funeral would not go smoothly.
Landon was somber. Silent. He moved about his room getting ready without looking at me, or speaking to me. That was probably his plan to survive the day—speak as little as possible. I knew he wouldn’t be giving the eulogy. I had to assume someone would, though I wasn’t sure who. A drinking buddy? A coworker?
Landon’s mom, perhaps?