The car is quiet, but the air between us is anything but. You slide into the passenger seat, and as I adjust the rearview mirror, my eyes linger on you a second too long. I catch myself and look back to the road, but it’s impossible to ignore the pull. A few minutes pass, and my gaze drifts again, this time to the curve of your chest. You notice but don’t say anything, the corners of your lips curling into the faintest smile.

You shift in your seat, letting your legs part just enough to get my attention. My glance flicks downward, and for a moment, it lingers. There’s no mistaking it this time. Your smile grows, sly and full of mischief, and the tension between us shifts, becoming something palpable, almost tangible.

Then, your hand moves, sliding across the center console to my lap. Your fingers brush against me lightly at first, testing the waters, but when they find the hard outline of my cock, you pause. I take a sharp breath, my grip on the wheel tightening, but I don’t stop you. I don’t want to. You press more firmly, your touch deliberate now, and I can feel myself throbbing against your palm, growing harder with every stroke.

You don’t stop there. Your fingers work their way to the button of my pants. The soft click of it coming undone seems to echo in the car, followed by the sound of my zipper. The cool air brushes against me for a moment before your hand wraps around me, warm and firm. My jaw tightens, a low groan escaping my lips as you start to move, slow and teasing, your hand sliding along my length.

I glance over at you, and the look in your eyes—bold and playful—sends a jolt of heat straight through me. I can’t focus, can’t think. The way you’re touching me has me gripping the wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. My chest rises and falls, my breathing unsteady as you continue to stroke me, every movement driving me closer to the edge.

It’s too much. With a growl, I pull the car off the road, the tires crunching on gravel as I bring it to a stop. My hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. This time, I guide you lower, my voice thick as I say, “You’ve been teasing me all this time. Let’s see if you can finish what you started.”

You don’t hesitate. Leaning down, you let your lips brush against the tip of my cock, soft and warm. The heat of your breath sends a shiver through me, and when your tongue flicks out, tasting me, I groan, low and deep. My grip in your hair tightens, not to force, but to steady myself against the overwhelming pleasure of your touch.

You take me into your mouth slowly, your lips parting to wrap around me, inch by inch. The warmth, the wetness, is almost too much to handle. My head falls back against the seat, my breath coming in sharp gasps as you move, your tongue teasing and exploring in ways that leave me utterly undone.

“Jesus,” I mutter, my voice barely audible, my hips shifting as I press deeper into your mouth. You glance up at me, your eyes meeting mine, and the look there—hungry, daring—sends a surge of heat through me. I can’t tear my eyes away as you take control, your movements confident and unhurried, savoring every second.