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“Hayzel..” I mutter to myself, already inside the car.

It takes me half an hour to get there and I can see them both laughing outside of the bar.

Mireya finds me immediately, and a smile tugs the corner of her lips. She looks happy and confused at the same time. They both walk toward my parked car and Mireya presses a finger to her lips, mouthing to me to be quiet, revealing a colorful looking purse at the side of her hip. Then she turns back to her friend. “Hayz, where is your bag? I think you left it inside?”

I can hear her friend sigh before replying, “Ughh I hate being drunk.” And she twists to head back inside yelling out a random name, most likely the bartender.

Mireya opens the door on my side, and sits on top of me, closing it just as quickly as she opened it.

“Shhh,” she whispers with a bright smile. “I know your windows are tinted.”

“If I knew that the ‘getting some’ part of your text earlier meant you would be sitting on my lap wearing a pretty skirt, I would’ve come here faster.” I whisper back, pulling her closer to me. “How long do you think we have?”

She looks back at the bar entry throwing Hayzel’s bag on the back seat, then stares back at me with a teasing smile. “Knowing her, ten minutes.”

My hands roam around her waist as I tilt my head. “What do you want to do during those ten minutes, Mireya?” I ask, voice low.

She mumbles before kissing the side of my mouth and murmurs, “Get some.” And then she leans in, capturing my lips with need and urgency.

My hands venture towards her hips and I slide her across both my thighs pressing her back against the steering wheel.

“Oh yeah?” I mumble against her mouth and she tightens her hands around my neck. She doesn’t answer when I reach underneath her to remove the belt from my jeans. “Put your hands back and don’t move, yeah?” I pull the belt tight around her wrists, securing them on the lower part of the wheel, tightening them enough that she lets out a gasp and a soft chuckle.

“You’re enjoying yourself way too much, Mister Caldwell,” she murmurs, voice rough and low.

My mouth curves slightly as I lean forward, “You’re going to complain?” I ask, as I give the belt another tug to tighten it even more.

“I would never,” she says, shaking her head.

“Good, open your legs wider for me, then.” I clip and the next thing I know, my mouth is on hers again.

I hate how good she smells at this exact moment, warm skin, soft, home.

My hands slide down her back and I grip her hips hard, fingers locating the hem of her skirt, lifting the fabric further up her body as I push her underwear to the side.

“You could just rip them off if you’re that impatient,” she murmurs, an arrogant smile appearing on her lips.

I laugh under my brain and do exactly that. Ripping the soft cotton thong she had on and tuck the discarded fabric into my pocket, looking back at her with a satisfied smile. “Better?”

She nods and leans toward me, “Much.”

My fingers go to the waistband of my pants, and I undo the button and zipper quickly. I remove my hardened dick from my boxers, lining it up with her slicked cunt. My lips crushed hers as a smile appeared on my lips, and she kissed me back just as greedily.

I lift her hips until the tip of my cock rubs her entrance, then firmly plant her down onto it. A long breath leaves her parted lips and I laugh softly. “Come on, Mireya. I can feel you pulse around me.”

I thrust harder this time. One brutal thrust. Her head falls back to my shoulder as she whispers, “Took you a minute…fuck.”

“You can take me deeper, Reya,” I demand, looking straight into her eyes as she rocks back and forth on top of me, searching for any type of friction that could satisfy her. And I let her use me as much as she needs too.

“Try and find out,” she smiles and it quickly turns into a long moan. “Fuck…”

Her head falls onto my arm as she continues bouncing on top of me with force. Slaps of skin against skin echoed in the car, each thrust followed by the sound of wetness, urgent gasps and fucked-up throaty moans.

“Five minutes,” I say breathless, glancing at my watch then back at her. “Think you can handle five more minutes?”

“I can’t…I think–I think I’m going to break,” she breathes louder, and I have to slam my hand on her mouth to keep these sounds for my ears only.

“You’re not breaking, Mireya. You’re going to give in for me again,” I urged, thrusting impossibly harder inside her.