Rose & Thorn: Becky/Dean

Chapter 5

Rose & Thorn was for adults but, at its core, it reminded Jon of his youth. It was all about risks and wild choices and losing inhibitions, feeding your id and doing whatever felt good in the moment. At the moment getting a blowjob in his truck sounded like a brilliant idea, so after he and Becky retrieved their belongings from the front desk, he drove further down further in the parking lot and stopped at a booth stationed in front of what looked like a car wash. He gave his membership card to the attendant. "Any openings?" he asked.

"Stall number seven is available." The attendant scanned his card and handed it back. "Enjoy."

After he pulled away from the booth, Jon put his card in the cup holder and turned to Becky to explain how the parking stalls worked—and was surprised to see her naked down to the waist. He was so distracted he nearly ran into a pillar, making Becky laugh. "And people say I'm a bad driver," she grinned, shimmying out of her leggings.

"Do you normally have a half-naked babe in the passenger seat?" Jon stopped the truck long enough to watch Becky kick off her shoes and pull off her leggings, leaving her in only her underwear.

Leaning back in her seat, Becky smiled. "You remember that Charlotte used to be my road wife, right?"

Jon kept his first comment to himself: that he considered Charlotte Flair the least attractive woman of the Four Horsewomen. "I keep forgetting that girls are weird like that. Guys will deck you if they think you're trying to look at their junk, and girls are like Hey, look at my nipple piercings! and shake their tatas in their friends' faces."

Becky laughed. "That's happened to me more than once." She stowed her clothing up on the dashboard and sat back, unfastening her seat belt. "It's not much further, right?"

Jon shook his head, putting the truck in drive again and looking for stall number seven. The stalls used the same lighting system as the rooms in Rose & Thorn, so he had to hop out of the truck, scan his truck to confirm entry, and then get back behind the wheel. Once he had pulled in and parked, a rolling door closed behind the truck, and an overhead light came up, illuminating Becky's bundle of clothing on the dashboard. "Not the true parking experiences of our youth, but unless you want to drive out to the middle of nowhere and possibly witness a mob hit in the process...."

Becky rose to her knees on the seat, working her panties down. "You still have more condoms, right? At home, for you to use with Roman and Seth? I don't want to take away—"

"You aren't." Jon pushed his seat back as far as he could and grabbed a condom from his fanny pack; unlike Seth, he refused to call it a cross-body bag. "Now get over here." When she started to straddle him, though, he grabbed her hips. "Uh-uh. Face the windshield. There's no grabby handle on this side, so you can hold the steering wheel." He quickly double-checked that the truck was in park and the engine was off. As funny as a sex-related truck accident could be—along as no one was injured, of course—neither of them needed that kind of publicity.

"Okay." Becky added her panties to the pile on the dashboard before unzipping Jon's jeans and pushing them down over his hips. While her hands worked on the condom wrapper, she sucked him gently, using her tongue more than her mouth, and Jon was almost tempted to ask her to keep going, but he wanted to watch her ass bouncing on him too. "Ready?"

"Always." Jon leaned back as she straddled him backwards, her hands gripping the steering wheel for balance as she got comfortable. He thought the centre console might be a problem, but she found a way to cozy right up to his cock and, after teasing him with a little lap dance, she lowered herself on him and started rocking. "Faster, Irish. You know how I like it."

"Just trying to save something for Roman and Seth to enjoy too," Becky teased, pressing her hands against the truck's roof as she rode him harder. "That match of yours—it's not tomorrow, is it? Maybe I should slow down a bit. I don't want to wear you out—"