by Vivien Vale
In fact, the more out of line she gets, the more I want to put her on the straight and narrow course. The more she misbehaves, the more I get to whip her back into shape.
I contemplate all of this as she sucks on my cock. Her head is bobbing up and down. I feel her warm, hot breath and lips around me.
Somehow I'm gonna have to steer this car while I come, and that's not gonna be an easy feat, judging from the intensity of Jenna's blowjob. I can tell she's trying to swallow me whole and it feels fucking amazing.
"You want that big cock don't you?" I taunt her.
She moans in pleasure, and I know I'm all she needs. I'm the only man that can satisfy her.
I think the safest course is to start heading home. I might come on the way, which is dangerous, or I can hold out and find my release when we're parked safely.
As if she can read my thoughts and decides to make this harder for me, she's starts really going down on me hard. Her lips and her tongue are tight around my cock, and it's all I can do to keep steering the wheel and focus on the road.
I decide I can handle it, and I grab her hair with one hand and force her up and down on my shaft a few more times before I blow my hot load down her throat.
I'm still driving the car at an incredibly fast speed. She's going wild for my cum, sucking as much of it down her throat as she can, making the sexiest moaning and slurping and gagging noises I’ve ever heard in my whole goddamn life.
One thing's for sure, I'm gonna have to fuck her...and soon.
Jenna
The headlights of Braden’s car cut through the stormy night like a knife as we roll up to his building. The taste of his cum is still on my tongue. When I lick my lips, they’re salty with his seed.
His eyes slide over me as we ease down a narrow side-alley separated from the street by an automatic gate. This is the backdoor to the most expensive building in NYC. The private parking of the rich and famous.
I look down at his lap and see that his cock hasn’t softened at all. If anything, it looks harder than ever.
My cunt throbs, wet as the pavement outside. My pulse is still racing with the thrill of it all: Braden. His car. The speed, the sound, the slickness of the road beneath us as we leave it behind.
Braden drives too fast. He takes corners with reckless abandon. The way he drives is a physics lesson in disaster, but as close as he comes sometimes, I’ve never seen him crash.
He’s dangerously calculating, too hot for his own good and too rich to care.
“Keep those fucking pants off,” he tells me, running his fingers through his dark, thick hair. The other hand is still wrapped around the wheel, white-knuckled.
He looks unhinged. Raw and brooding. Bristling with the same energy as the storm outside, wild and untameable.
He rolls down the window and leans out to key in his pin number for the garage. I lean over across his lap and catch his wrist.
“Ever had sex in a storm before?”
Braden leans back, considering it.
“It’s a cold rain, Jenna.”
“I never thought the infamous Braden Masterson would be afraid of getting a little wet.”
With not even half a second of warning, Braden twists his wrist beneath my fingers and captures my throat in his hand.
“You’re the only one who’s getting wet tonight,” Braden growls. His breath is warm against my lips. His mouth is so close to mine it makes me ache. “That’s your problem, Jenna. You haven’t been paying attention. You still think I give a damn where I fuck you.”
He rolls the window up, pushes me away and gets out of the car. He doesn’t turn it off. His engine has quieted to a sultry purr. I can feel it vibrating gently through the leather seat beneath me.
The headlights cast Braden’s shadow up against the garage door as he comes around to my side, wrenching my door open.
Braden looms over me for a moment as the rain falls down on his broad shoulders. A glistening bead of a raindrop drips down his Roman nose and lands on my thigh.
“Get out of the car,” he growls.
I scramble to put one foot at a time outside his race car. Not fast enough. Braden pulls me out of the car and sweeps me off my feet. Like I’m some kind of damsel in distress and he’s my knight in shining armor, here to save me.
But as he lays me down on the hood of his race car, all I can do is admire his sword. If I’m in distress, it’s only because I want so badly to be his sheath.
Steam rises off the hot metal beneath me as the chilly rain beats down on it. Braden curls his fingers beneath my pants, gathered around my ankles, and pulls them off me like they’ve done him some kind of wrong. That’s just how he feels about my clothes, I realize. Braden Masterson has a general distaste for anything standing between his touch and my skin.
The metal is gorgeously warm beneath my bare ass. I can feel the engine thrumming beneath it, powerful and hot. It’s a stark contrast to the torrent of rain pouring down on my skin, soaking my blouse clear through.
The chilly wetness has turned the fabric of my thin shirt nearly transparent. It clings to my nipples, dark and hard and aching in the cold.
Braden grabs my ankle, pulling me towards him, and takes one of those nipples between his teeth. I gasp as he sucks on it through the damp linen. His fingers pinch the other one, and I shiver.
I can’t stop shivering.
I don’t know whether to blame it on the rain or blame it on him.
His lips kiss down my skin. It’s turned to gooseflesh, trembling and beaded with rain. Every kiss feels like fire. When he licks me, it’s like being licked by flame.
Until he comes to my pussy. My hot, throbbing, needy pussy. Then, I can feel the way I’m radiating. The humidity of my wetness mingles with the warmth of his breath for a moment. Then, he’s kissing me there. Making out with my cunt.
I tangle my fingers in his hair. His mouth is at my clit now, lashing out at it with his tongue. The sensation is so deliciously intense, I don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.
In the end, I do both, until I’m grinding against his face like the greedy bitch I’ve become.
I’ve never seen a man look more handsome than he does when he’s staring up at me with his mouth buried in my cunt. With Braden Masterson, this is truer than ever. He’s handsome enough from the usual angles that he could have any woman in the world exactly where I am―on the hood of his car right now.
But he hasn’t chosen just any woman in the world. He’s chosen me.
When he won his race tonight, it was my lips he was kissing. It’s my body he wants to fuck right now, and it’s my cunt that he’ll be inside as we weather this storm.
Together. Tonight. I’ll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow. Whatever it brings.
Tonight, I’m his.
I come so hard against his mouth that, for a moment, I’m certain I can see stars. But the storm clouds overhead rain down harder than ever. I’m left whimpering and trembling as it beats down on my body, as my pupils dilate and I struggle to regulate my breath.
His embrace is deliciously warm as he pulls me against him. We wrap our arms around each other with a primal kind of need. His kisses burn, all the way through my lips to my core.
Braden forces his tongue into my mouth. It conquers mine effortlessly. He’s a man used to winning, whether it’s in his car or on top of it.
“Beg me.” He pushes the words out through his teeth.
“Fucking give it to me,” I snarl back.
His massive cock probes at the tightness of my slit, feverishly hot and dripping with want, while his arms slide over my skin, slick with rain.
He hilts himself inside me.
No teasing. No easing himself in. No fucking around.
Just fucking. Pure fucking. Unbridled, undiluted, unrestrained fucking so damn good, it almost seems unreal.
He takes me hard and fast like he’s lost all restraint entirely. This isn’t like the way he races, teasing his opponents wit
h the hope that they might be able to handle him.
This is deliberately brutal. Calculatingly intense. He’s huge, hard, and entirely too much to handle, and he wants me to know it. He’s getting off on it, even.
All I can do is lay back, hold on for dear life, and enjoy the ride.
The second orgasm sends a shockwave of pleasure through my body. Like I’ve been struck by lightning. The sky crackles with it overhead as my eyes roll back.
I lose myself to the sensation of Braden’s cock jackhammering into me, over and over and over again. My nails claw at his shoulder blades, desperately trying to find purchase. Every cell of my body is flickering, like a house with every light on when the breaker is about to blow.
When it does, I scream.
My hips buck up to slam against his.
I feel rewired. Full system upgrade. My every cell repurposed to feel pleasure.
Only pleasure. Nothing else.
He wraps me up tight in his arms and holds me like I’m holy. I wrap my legs around his hips. Our bodies find each other's rhythms like this, rocking against each other.
Growling, hissing, and moaning like animals in heat. Tangled up in each other’s embrace.
“Fuck. Jenna.”
I pull him tighter against me, press my lips to the warmth of his neck and sink my teeth into it.
“Jenna,” he hisses. “I’m going to come. I’m gonna come inside you—”
He wraps his fingers around my throat, holding me before him. Our noses are tip to tip. My hair is damp.
His hair is even darker than usual, slicked back and shining. Pearls of rain stream down his face, mixing with his sweat. That’s what he smells like: sweat and rain and gasoline. Leather, cologne and cunt.
My cunt.
He smells like me.
I come again, right along with him this time. He holds me tighter than ever, like he’s afraid of I might dissolve into the steam coming off the hood if he lets go. I can feel his balls tighten as he pumps me full of his load, hot ropes of cum coating my insides as deep as it can go.
Beneath us, the engine keeps purring. The headlights glow as thunder rumbles and lightning lights up the night.
Braden
When I get Jenna inside, she’s shaking like a checkered flag on a windy day. I find her a towel and dry her off, peeling back her wet blouse and tossing it to the floor with a wet slap. Can’t have my little fucktoy catching cold.
Jenna’s makeup is smeared, and her mascara is streaming down her face. She’s soaked through, right to the bone. Her hair is dripping with rain, and my cum is running down her thighs.
Fuck that glam, made-up socialite look that the women I normally rub elbows with try and tout. This is real beauty: Jenna Lockhart, naked and shivering, completely at my mercy.
She has the look of a woman who’s been ridden hard and put away wet.
It makes me hard. I’m not ready to put her away quite yet.
“You’re a very bad man, Braden Masterson,” Jenna teases. Even her voice is shaking.
I toss the towel around her neck and pull her in for a kiss.
“You have no idea,” I say, twisting the ends of the towel tight. The water I’ve just mopped up off her body comes streaming back down over both her breasts.
She arches against me in tortured ecstasy.
I watch her nipples get even harder. I didn’t think that was possible, but now they’re standing at attention, dripping wet and ripe for the taking. They’re the color of a cranberry vodka.
I dip my mouth down to kiss them, one then the other.
“Oh,” she breathes, thrusting her chest out for more.
I give it to her, licking and biting and sucking away. When it comes to Jenna, I just can’t say no.
Does she have any fucking idea that she does that to me? She must. My cock pressing demandingly against her stomach is hardly something she can ignore, but the way she coos and sighs as I wrap my hands around her and tilt her backward, feasting on her tits like this, she seems so oblivious.
Oblivious to the shit she makes me feel, to the way she could fuck up my life in an instant if she tried. With all her fucking meddling, she still might.
Her mouth opens in a perfect O, shaped like it was made to stick my cock in. Surprisingly, her lipstick is still intact.
It won’t be for long.
My garage is vanity lit, with spotlights over all the classic cars I keep inside. These aren’t your granddad’s restored roadsters. They’re the kind of classics so rare and so expensive that on the books, they don’t even exist anymore.
The amount of money that I shelled out to keep these beauties in good hands would boggle your fucking mind. I bought them in invite-only overseas auctions so deep underground that they’re practically black market.
I’d give up every one of them if it meant Jenna Lockhart would just be mine.
“The things I want to do with you, Jenna,” I growl, kissing between her breasts.
“Maybe I’ll let you,” she whispers. “If you ask nicely.”
My lips shift into a wolfish smile against her skin. “I don’t ask, Jenna. I command. I take.”
“Oh,” she moans again, so breathy and sweet that it makes my cock throb. “Well then…you’ll have to catch me first.”
She spins out of my arms and takes off through the parking garage, ducking and weaving through Ferraris and Mercedes Benzes.
She’s only wearing heels and a smile, so for a moment, I just watch her go.
Then I take off after her. After all, I never have been able to turn down the thrill of the chase.
I follow the echoing clicks of her heels against the concrete floor as I track her down the way a hunter tracks his prey. Finally, I catch sight of her slipping away behind a sleek black 1961 California Spider that was supposedly destroyed in the late 70s.
It’s the jewel of my collection, perfectly restored.
I stalk her around it until she sees me.
She dodges left. I go right. I’m faster than her, stronger and more powerful, and when I want something, there’s nothing that can stop me from taking it.
I sweep her up in my arms as she tries to flee, holding her from behind while she shrieks and screams with delight.
“Okay, you caught me.” She giggles, breathless. “What should your prize be?”
“Honey,” I growl, bending her over the Spider’s hood. “You are my prize.”
Her ass looks so fine, bent over and pushed out like that, that I nearly fuck it then and there. But I want to cover this girl in my cum, milk every last iota of pleasure from her body, and then claim it as my own.
I want to make her hurt. I want to fucking break her.
I want to kiss her broken parts and hold her until they’re all healed.
I drop to my knees behind her, pressing down on the small of her back. She shoves her cunt against my lips whether she means to or not.
I take her like a man starved. She’s slick with my cum. Her cum. With us.
“Oh, fuck,” she whines. “Braden…Braden, wait. Your cum is still inside me—”
I smack her ass so hard, she cries out.
“Do you think I fucking care? I don’t know what pathetic boys you’ve been with before me, Jenna, so let me clue you in: a real man doesn’t give a fuck.”
I go down on her with renewed vigor until her pussy is spasming against my lips, soaking me with her honey, just to prove my point.
I lap it up. All of it. I pull her hair, spin her around, claim her mouth with mine, and pass our combined juices onto her tongue with mine.
“Swallow it,” I snarl as my fingers wrap around her throat. “Swallow it up like the little slut you are.”
She licks her lips as she obeys—no argument, no protest. I have Jenna exactly where I want her: gorgeous eyes glassy and glazed over, dumb from too many orgasms, obedient, eager to please, and desperate for more.
I drop my shoulder and toss her over it, carrying her off like a war prize.
At the back of the garage, next to the private elevator up to my penthouse, are my trophy case and my workbench, side by side.
I deposit her in front of the case, pushing her to her knees. Trophies, medals, and ribbons tremble and flutter with the impact of her body while I grab a pair of jumper cables from my bench.
“You wouldn’t,” she gasps as I tease her nipple with the tip of one clamp.
“Maybe not,” I say forebodingly. Then, just to fuck with her, I open the clamp up and nestle her nipple between its sharp jaws, ready to snap shut at any moment. “Or maybe I will. You don’t know what I’m capable of, Jenna.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she says, biting her lip.
“You don’t sound so sure of that.”
I ease the clamp closed a little more around her nipple. Not all the way, but enough that she can feel it.
“Oh god,” she whimpers, trying to pull away. But there’s nowhere to retreat to and she knows it.
She’s so wet, I can fucking smell it as I pull the clamp away.
“You fuck around with things that are dangerous, Jenna, and you’re going to end up hurt.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she says again, this time with more certainty.
It makes my chest glow with pride. She trusts me. Maybe not outside of tonight, maybe not even outside of this moment.
But in the moment, it makes me want her—need her—all the more.
“Then you’d better fucking please me,” I say, grabbing her wrists.
I wind the jumper cables around them, binding her hands together, while I shove my cock down her throat.
She takes it beautifully—every thrust, inch after inch after inch after inch.
I watch her struggle. I watch her gag. But with every pump of my rock-hard dick over her tongue and down her throat, no matter how brutal or how vicious, she takes it.
It’s making me lose my fucking mind. You don’t hurt a girl like that. You marry her.
Christ, listen to me. Look who’s gone stupid with orgasm now.
I pull out just in time, stroking my cock to a finish while I hold her wrists over her head and pump rope after rope of my hot cum onto her beautiful face.