On the floor of Cade's truck were three cans of Reddi Wip, two chocolate and one plain. There was also a pile of Taco Bell trash and an empty fifth of Jack. A lavender thong hung from the truck's shifter, his t-shirt was twisted around his left fore...
Somewhere in the amber soaked depths of his mind, Cade regretted the swallow after swallow moments he'd spent with Jack. But there was nothing to be done about that right then, so he nodded.
"But first let's get that shirt off." She perched sideways on the bench seat, slipped the can between her thighs, then went after his shirt. Time took a blissful pause as Cade stared at that soft flesh pressed against that hard metal can. Then she tugged on his shirt, harder. There was a fair amount of twisting and pulling and yanking. She couldn't get it all the way off, because of the cuffs, but apparently having the t-shirt dangling around his wrist was didn't faze her.
She shook the can with firm, short pulses.
The first creamy, white stream went directly into her mouth. Well, most of it. The soft foam that didn't make it between her lips was licked off, slowly, carefully, by her delicate pink tongue. Cade may have groaned, but if you asked him later, he wouldn't be able to say for sure because he'd drank about half the Jack. More than half. Things were fuzzier than he would've liked. He was still in the game but not swinging hard.
"Now be a good boy and hold still for me."
She shook the can again, ran her tongue across her glistening lips once more, then started coating his chest with the foam. The scent. Candy sweet and mouth watering.
Oh, fuck yeah.
Cade liked the hiss of the can and the damp lines of cream and the concentration on her face as she made a series of orderly lines up and down his bare skin.
Up.
Then down.
Up.
Then down.
The can ran out. She grabbed another.
Kept going.
Down.
Then up.
Down.
Then up.
"Lick." He managed to get the words out as he tugged against the handcuffs. "How about you lick it off?"
A quick glance up but no reply.
A few more lines, that can ran out. "You smell perfect. Now think lots of hot, dirty thoughts, so your scent will really carry." The empty can hit the floor with a thud, then she backed out, scooting across him until she was outside the truck, standing beside the open door.
The heel of a third can poked out of the bottom corner of the bag lying sideways on the floor of his truck.
Realizing she was thinking about doing something other than sitting on his lap, lining his bare chest with more whipped cream, he tipped his head and croaked. "There's another one. Another can."
"We'll need that later."
We need it now.
But the words stayed inside his mouth, coated by whiskey and so slippery they glided down, deep into his throat until he swallowed them. Along with what was left of his pride.
But he hung on to the notion he was going to get laid.
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