Page 12 of The Man I Hate

My lower region flushed with excitement. Giddy at the thought of fucking in the car, I excitedly glanced around. A sunshade covered the windshield. The side windows were a dark enough tint that only those curious enough to peer inside would be able to see what we were doing. Having sex in a public parking lot wasn’t on my conscious to-do list, but it wasn’t on my to-don’t list, either.

I released the seatbelt. All ten feet of it sucked into the retractor with a thwack!

“Here?” I asked, just to make sure we were both singing off the same song sheet. “You want to fuck here? In the car?”

“I thought you said you were sexually frustrated.” His brows pinched together. “How bad is it?”

I’d hit the freaking jackpot. There was no sense in wasting any more time. I pulled the hem of my dress to my waist and wagged my index finger toward his lap. “Get those pants off, Mister.”

He unbuckled his belt and pushed his slacks to his knees. His boxers came next. When they cleared his lap, his gorgeous cock sprung to attention.

Apparently, he was as excited as I was.

I stared at it like it was two-headed unicorn. “Is there anything about you that isn’t attractive?”

He chuckled. “I’m pretty ugly when it comes to relationships.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”

He stretched a condom over his massive member.

My lust-filled eyes met his. I didn’t need a written invitation or any verbal instructions. Eager to feel his massive girth inside me, I crawled onto his lap, facing him. At the instant I came to the realization that I’d never had sex in a car, he raised his hips.

With the tip of his God-given gift resting against my soaking wet folds, he paused.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. I exhaled a long breath. “Wow.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you sure?”

I could have responded in the affirmative, but I chose not to. At that juncture, I felt actions would speak much louder than words. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip and released my weight. His thick shaft penetrated me.

Surprised by his girth, I paused.

We locked eyes. I forced myself to take him into me, slowly. As I began to wonder about my physical limitations of accepting his entire length, the tip of his dick collided with my cervix.

The breath shot from my lungs.

My gaze fell to my lap. I had no idea the cervix was an erogenous zone. The men I’d been with in the past hadn’t had the ability to bring it to my attention. Braxton, on the other hand, couldn’t help it.

Proud of my accomplishment, I replaced my look of pleasure with a guilty grin. I met his gaze. He looked like he’d see a ghost.

“Oh, yeah. I’m doing just fine.” I let out a breath. “What about you?”

“Jesus.” He winced in mock pain. “Are you a virgin?”

“A recycled one,” I said with a laugh. “I haven’t had sex in a few years.”

“A few years?” He coughed. “Really?”

“I got divorced and swore off men.” To save myself from making another O-face, I adjusted my weight. “Then, you saved me from a thug and tricked me out of my panties.”

“You’re not going to camp out on my doorstep after this, are you?”

He was talking too much and fucking too little. I didn’t need a lecture on how to have sex and walk away. I’d done it more times than I cared to admit. Just not recently.