Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Twenty-Eight*

He brings his unburnt hand up to his mouth and bites the end of the glove to tug it off. It's thrown somewhere to the ground behind her, but he doesn't pay it any mind, he's too preoccupied with her to care about anything.

Her lips taste of her berry-flavored lip balm when they next kiss, and his other hand raises to collar her neck with a demanding grip while the other descends the length of her torso. The tips of his fingers study every peak and valley found along the way, dipping between her breasts and ghosting over the softness of her stomach until he has reached the hem of her short skirt. Her breath hitches in her throat in anticipation of his reaction as his touch glides up the inside of her thighs—

The gentle rhythm of their kissing stops short.

Rather than finding a thin panel of fabric covering her, his fingers delved right into her slick folds without any resistance. It takes him longer than it should to realize that she isn't nude, she's wearing the panties he gifted her today. To think he'd been seconds away from discovering this back at the parking garage...

He doesn't waste any time.

Harry hefts her up from the bike and repositions her so she's sitting sideways on it, no longer straddling it, and stands between her parted legs with an eagerness she can feel from how hard he is in his pants. Neither of them bothers with foreplay considering that she's already wet enough to have left a damp spot on the seat of the bike. It was difficult to keep her cool throughout the entire affair. The vibration of the bike on her bare cunt after their heated moment back at the garage had her halfway to orgasm on its own. With him kissing her as though his life depends on it, that arousal only increases.

With the bike leaning onto the kickstand on the side opposite to where he stands, it gives them enough stability to do what they wish without toppling it onto its side. He wouldn't let her get hurt, that much she knows, so she doesn't spare it another thought before reaching to undo his belt buckle. It's a fumbling process, but after a half minute of attempting to slip it out from around his pants, she lets it fall to the ground beside his feet.

Her hand dips beneath the waistband of both his pants and underwear to take his cock into her hand, using the drops of precum that have leaked from the tip as lubrication to stroke him a few times. Seeing that he's already hard, she doesn't continue on for much longer. She does it for just long enough to pull back and watch his eyes flutter shut in appreciation, his brows pinching together, and uses her other hand to tug his clothes down his thighs.

The tiger tattooed onto his left thigh is there to greet her as his pants and underwear are brought down to expose him to her. It's quite chilly out, so she makes certain not to stop the steady pace of her hand pumping up and down his length until she's guiding him into her. Her skirt is rolled up around her hips to allow him better access, and her arms twine around his neck to bring him in close as he slides home with a groan.

His mouth falls open against hers to take in heavy breaths at the feeling of her squeezing around his cock, the tight resistance making him have to thrust a bit harder to sink all the way in until his hips meet the soft backs of her thighs.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Their lips collide in a sloppy, languid kiss that is interrupted by their panting breaths. "I missed this."

That small confession brings a lazy smile to her face amidst the slightly painful stretch of having him inside of her. For the most part, it's easy to take him, but after spending a week apart, the longest they've gone in the past month, she isn't as prepared for it. It's the type of pain she finds a strange pleasure in, though. She loves it, the pressure of feeling him so deep, she could press her hand down on the southernmost point of her stomach and nearly feel the bulge of him inside.