Beside

29 - ride

"Fox, why do you keep that rock in your pocket?"

"It's my lucky one."

"But you didn't win the spelling test."

"It's still charging."

ᖴO᙭

What the hell came over her? Was it something I said, or the writing exercise messing with her head? Or was this just her? Why the hell am I even asking myself questions?

"Fox," she pants against my mouth.

Her voice snaps me back. And now, I don't want to think, don't need to—not when I'm so damn hard. I tilt her jaw, kissing her deep, tasting her soft moans as our breaths fog up the windows.

My hands slip under her shirt, grazing her skin, so damn warm and soft. She fumbles with my drawstring, her hands shaking.

"Why won't this—ugh—work?"

It's adorable, and I almost laugh. But then she finally manages to undo it, and the look on her face—so ridiculously proud—just makes my chest tight. She's never—

I suck in a sharp breath when her hand wraps around me. I'm hard. Hell—very hard. Ready. Her grip is clumsy but goddamn.

"Fuck, darling," I groan, struggling to keep my cool. "What are you—"

"Condom," she blurts out, nodding quickly and grabbing one from the pile in the seat beside us.

The tint on my windows is dark as hell—so dark no one would see a thing, even if they tried. Not that anyone's here to peek, but still. I'd kill them.

"I've got this, no problem," she says, though her fingers slip and the packet almost falls. She looks up at me with wide, innocent eyes, blushing hard, like she's waiting for me to laugh at her. But I don't. I just nod, watching as she finally manages to roll it on. Fuck. Her hands are shaking, and she presses her palm against my chest, biting her lip in concentration.

"There," she breathes, giving me that triumphant smile. My hands tighten on her thighs as she lifts up on her knees.

Then I realize it. My hands slide over bare skin. No fabric.

"You're not wearing—"

"No," she says, a little shy all of a sudden. "I thought... it might be more fun. I read a book. I don't know."

I swear under my breath. No goddamn panties. Shit. She planned this?

"Can I?" she asks, voice soft, unsure.

I nod. Words are useless now.

She sinks down onto my cock, her head falling forward as she takes me in, inch by inch. Fuck. It's tight. Warm. Molten.

Nothing beats this.

She tilts her head, just a little, her lips parted, barely breathing. "I-is this okay?"

I nod, my grip tightening on her thighs. She's so damn genuine. There's nothing in her that's fake, nothing that's for show. Even now, she looks like she's navigating the line between nervous and determined. That makes this different. Makes her different. I feel it all over.

She's never done this before—not like this. It didn't need to be said. So she's careful, deliberate, trying to learn, but god, it's driving me insane. The more she hesitates, the more I want to take over, grip her hips, make her speed up, make her scream—