Victoria Lawson: The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 17

“But I want-“ she started.

“Please,” he said in a tender way that stopped her. “Let someone else be in charge for once.”

“What do you mean?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Darcy looked in her eyes. “I saw you there, in the back seat,” he said. “Making and taking calls, making deals, arguing with your staff.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder, his thumb caressing the skin just above her breast. She wanted that thumb on her breast, stroking, stroking her nipple, but he didn’t move from that spot. She bit her bottom lip. He looked up then, around him. The warm breeze stirred the trees, making them sigh. “You didn’t even take one moment to enjoy the beautiful scenery around you.”

“I have a very important position,” she said defensively. “I don’t have time for-“

“This-“ he said, interrupting her, sliding his hand up under her skirt. His fingers snaked into her wet panties, brushing through the tangled mass of springy hair, soft like the moss at the base of the trees here, in the woods that lined the road. Jane’s knees felt weak with his touch, but he wrapped one strong arm behind her and while the length of his index finger worked between the slit of her hot, wanting lips, opening beneath his fingers like the petals of a flower.

There was a thin silver ring on his index finger, old and smoothly worn, but the ridge of that ring caused a pleasing sensation as it glided over her clitoris, which had raised its head up like the head of a tiny mushroom and strained toward his finger. Every time the ring bumped over the silky, little head, a wave of heat washed through Jane, and her honey began to run out onto Darcy’s fingers as they slid with an aching slowness up and down between those hot, wet vulva lips.

The tip of his finger teased in slow circles at the opening of her vagina, which contracted and contracted as if wanting to suck him in, and she moaned and begged him, “Please, inside me, please!” her breath coming hot and ragged, her head thrown back exposing her white, soft neck.

He bent his head and put his tongue in the hollow of her neck, and licked in a circular motion, feeling the vibration of her moans, her breath on the hot tip of his tongue. Jane moved her hips frantically against his hand, wanting to force his fingers deep inside her, wanting to feel him deep inside, at the core of her, but again he pulled away, taking away her control. Jane grimaced, growling in frustration, her tiny fists raining down on his shoulders. He picked her up then, in one fell swoop, and she continued to hit him, but he carried her as if he was not feeling a thing, and deposited her on the hood of the car.

He pushed gently on her shoulders and she fell back. His hands were on her silk panties and he slid them easily down her long, long legs. They fell into the dirt, and he slowly slid his hands up and up her legs, wrapping around the backs of her calves, behind her knees, sliding around to the inside of the knees, her thighs. She could feel the warm hood of the car, the metal smooth and hot beneath her bare ass, her bare pussy, touching the heat of the metal feeling wonderful and burning at the same time. She could feel her juice running out onto the hood of the car, making it slick beneath her.

The car was a slate grey Chrysler Sebring, and the hood had a raised center ridge. Jane was positioned on the hood so that the ridge, warm from the sun, rested in the cleft between her buttocks — and her labia. She could feel the hard ridge pushing up into her moist slit and she sighed and moved her hips gently, her wetness making the hot metal slick. She moved back and forth, letting the ridge glide between her pussy lips and bump against her clitoris. Darcy put his hot hands on her bare hips and let her pleasure herself — for a moment.

He reached around behind her and unzipped her skirt, and Jane leaned back and let him slide it down her legs. He unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked her bra and slid it off her. She arched her back, her pink nipples poking up toward the blue sky. Darcy leaned over her and brushed his tongue over each one, then stood, exposing her to the breeze which felt degrees colder on the wet peaks, causing them to contract and become harder, more erect.

She felt as if they were straining toward him, and she arched again, begging him wordlessly for his mouth. He responded, bending and licking the buds gently, then becoming more rough, his teeth teasing them, and they rose higher, became red, swollen, all of her swollen, her labia, her clit, her nipples straining up toward him.

But still he was controlled, moving slowly, at his own pace, ignoring her moans, her pleading, her tight words. He stood, gazing down at her, her skin white and hot under the sun, her nipples so dark they were nearly lavender with wanting, and her sex, it was deep rose, the clit poking up like a little cock from between the lips of her pussy, pushing toward him.

Jane ached with wanting. How could he ignore her words, her pleading, her commands? His eyes on her skin felt hot, like a searchlight, scorching her, melting her, his hands were gentle and frantic and painful and lovely all at once. She felt as if all her being were on fire at once, her skin, her mouth, her eyes, her pussy, on fire with wanting.

He pulled her up then, and positioned her hands on his shoulders. He stood between her legs and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. He did not speak, but slid his hands down her back, slowly, staring, finally resting them on her hips. He took over for her, then, using his hands like pistons, sliding her back and forth, riding the ridge of the hood, gliding on her juices, increasing speed, then slowing, increasing, slowing until Jane thought she would go mad.

Just when she thought she could not bear another second, he stopped abruptly, pushed her back and sank his mouth on her swollen, pulsing cunt, running his tongue up the slit, now hot from the metal hood of the car, from her longing, from her dripping honey.

He licked and kissed it like it was a mouth, running the tip of his tongue around and around the swollen button head of her clitoris, and it reddened and swelled even more, a little cum weeping from the top, which he lapped off like it was sweet cream. Jane could barely breathe, and when he pushed his fingers into her, his mouth wrapped, sucking, on her clit she cried out, exploding, her cum coating his fingers, his lips, his chin.

She lay back quivering, the hot sun shining its rays on her tender nipples, her belly, and Darcy, like a mother cat, continued lapping her cunt with his tongue, as if cleaning her, licking and sucking all her shining honey from the lips of her labia, gently teasing the cum from her springy curls, and the gentleness of the licking and probing, the care he showed her on her most tender of places, when he came back again to her clit and sucked again, she shuddered, crying, tears leaking from her eyes, her hands going to his head, holding him to her, and he let his mouth rest, sucking gently like a baby on the head of the clitoris until it trembled a last time releasing a little spurt of cum, and they were still.

Time seemed to stop for Jane as she lay there, on the hood of the Sebring, exposed, naked beneath the hot sky. Sounds came back to her after a while, the sighing trees, the chirruping of birds, the buzz of bees and bugs. She felt the breeze caress her skin. Darcy stood, his hand trailing down her skin, softly. Jane closed her eyes, feeling everything around her with every pore, absorbing the smells of the fragrant trees, the sounds all around her, suddenly huge in her ears. She was noticing everything. She smiled gently.

She heard the soft whicker, then, of a zipper being pulled down, and she opened her eyes slightly, looking down at Darcy through her lowered lashes. He’d removed his shirt, and his chest was smooth and brown in the dappled sunlight, his stomach tight and lovely. His trousers dropped down and he stepped out of them, and Jane looked appreciatively at him, his smooth, tanned skin, his cock rigid, and the head reaching up toward her. She wanted to spring up, to grasp it in her hand, her mouth, but she lay still, understanding now, waiting for his word.