buckle up...
Aven Brooks
I can't take it any longer.
I shouldn't give in to these urges but fuck, I want this.
"Pull over." I turn my head to look at him, not able to contain this any longer despite my better instinct.
He silently keeps his eyes on mine for a second, flicking back and forth from the road with one hand on the wheel.
"You sure?"
"I need you to pull over," I repeat with a nod, his fingers frozen in place on me.
He looks ahead at the road, going silent while scanning the area. I twist my hips in pure lust, his fingers teasingly running up and down my slit again. He doesn't give me the satisfaction of focusing on my clit. The anticipation of it all is making me pulse so bad that he can probably feel it.
He does a sharp turn into a double-ended alleyway, one wide enough for the car. He drives deep enough between the brick buildings so we were secluded as much as possible. It's New York though, who knows how much time we have before someone walks by.
Slamming the car into park, he undoes his seatbelt while continuing the stroke up and down my slit with his two fingers. It's embarrassing how wet I am at this point. His eyes meet the contact, lips parting at what he's seeing.
"When was the last time someone has done this to you?" He rasps, reaching my clit with every stroke.
I lay my head back on the headrest and shut my eyes, finding it hard to stay still. Every muscle in my body is tight while every nerve seems to sway like waves.
"Be honest." He prods.
He knows the answer. He just wants me to admit that it was him.
"God, shut up." I breathe unstably.
He stops touching me. Instead, he grabs the hook of my right leg and yanks it towards him. I open my eyes at the sudden transition of him flipping me over the middle console of the car. I barely have a chance to protest before I'm straddling his lap in the driver's seat.
"You know I don't do well with attitude." He glares through dark eyes, the single safety light above our head being the only light. It casts a very dim warm glow on us in this dark night.
I stare down at him from my slight height advantage on his lap, calling his bluff. "And what are you gonna do, Harry? Go drop me off instead?"
He chuckles sadistically, slowly shaking his head.
"No, sucker." He grabs both of my legs and contorts them so I transition to straddling one of his thighs rather than both. "You're going to do the work if you want to feel good."
He reaches down to the seat leaver, pulling it to ever so slightly tilt his chair back a fraction so I have more room. With mischief in his eyes, he slides his hands under my skirt to grab my hips.
"So, go on," he awaits. "Get yourself off."
Looking down at his thigh, I realize what he means. With my skirt bunched up, my underwear still on, he's giving me an opportunity. My eyes flick back to his as his hands start swaying my hips back and forth for me.
"Just like this..." He whispers while rocking my hips precariously up and down his thigh.
At first, I don't understand. But as I start to experience the friction of grinding on him through our clothes, I realize the pleasure this holds. It wasn't grinding on his dick, it was his thigh. It's singularly for my pleasure because like he said before, he doesn't want to experience an orgasm unless it's when we have sex.
The tension between my underwear and his jeans makes this something I have to work for. The pressure of straddling his thigh and rocking on it causes my stomach to shudder. He keeps narrating the movement of my hips, swaying them on him to establish a rhythm. I look back up into his eyes, beginning to understand.
"Does that feel nice?" He whispers.
I don't answer, I just focus on my breathing while feeling a heartbeat rub against his leg. Every time I rock back, I feel pressure on my clit. It gives me just a taste of pleasure but it's knotting my stomach in anticipation.
"If you don't start answering me, I'll toss you back in the passenger seat."
I drop my head and breathe, not wanting to give in to his dominance but knowing if I don't at least answer him then this will stop.
"Yes," I answer stubbornly.
I tilt my head back forward to see him cockily smirking. "Now was that so hard?"
"Fuck you." I scold.
He sticks his tongue between his teeth with a teasing smile, entertained to getting a slight rise out of me.
I grab his biceps in need of something to hold while he helps sway my hips at a gradual pace. Clutching them makes me realize how solid his muscles are, even through the thick sweater on his body. His eyes glance down at the grinding, his lips parting.
My hips begin to develop a mind of their own as they start going a little faster. His hands stay on my hips but weaken their control, letting me take over as I get a steady pace going. I hum to myself, looking down at his leg and seeing what I'm using it for.
He breathes out like this is also doing something for him, watching me use his body for my pleasure. His hands slide up my body and under my coat. He trails to my shoulders and pulls down the leather so it slips off my arms, tossing it into the passenger seat. His vision musters distracted to my chest in the tight lace pushing my breasts up. They move as I move.
His eyes flick into darkness—lust taking over.
Back and forth I grind harshly on his leg through our clothes, my stomach twists in tension of this frustrating pleasure that makes me work so much in order to feel something. But getting to feel it just makes up for all the work. I don't want to stop. I'm getting riled up so quickly.
"Look at you..." He whispers in the small space between us, keeping his eyes deep on mine. "Using my thigh like this to get yourself off."
I breathe heavy as he stays calm, watching me with a degrading look. Despite his words having a tone of judgement, his hands stay tight on my hips again to keep me working.
I whine—without even thinking about it. I shut my eyes to avoid seeing what that sound did for his ego.
The gentle pleasure of my core grinding on his leg is sending a cold sweat through my body. I've never done anything like this before, it feels so good.
How does this feel so good?
He looks down between us at my thrashing hips hugging his left leg, grinding in an agile attempt to feel elation. His jaw hangs open, amazed at the visual as his eyebrows furrow. It's starting to get him fired up, I can tell. He loves what I'm doing.
"You see this?" He peels his eyes back to mine. "You don't do this with anyone else, got it? You can fuck whoever you want but this—this is something you only do with me."
"You don't have that control over me." I protest with an unstable breath.
"Oh, but I do. I always do."
I pant, "You make me so...mad."
He smiles, "I know."
Getting antsy at this point, I start craving more. My hair begins to fall a mess in my face, not having the power to fix it because I simply didn't care. I need to be closer.
"I need to feel your skin," I speak.
With a tight jaw, he stares at me for a second, letting go of my hips and quickly undoing his belt. In a matter of seconds, his jeans come undone while his dark eyes never leave mine. Something about him keeping eye contact while roughly undoing his belt is knotting my stomach even more.
He lifts me up on my knees so my head folds down from the roof, maneuvering my legs around so he can pull his pants down.
My ass accidentally presses the car horn, the sound
making me flinch and cast forward against him. I grab the back of his head and shoulders, hearing him chuckle from what I did in this tight space. The second I'm off his thigh, I'm just impatiently counting down until I'm sitting back on it. His head levels with my chest as he focuses on yanking his jeans off, bunching them to his knees so his thighs are exposed. The outline of his cock is harder than ever within his tight boxers. The thoughts of riding him is too much for my mind to handle but I get heart palpitations thinking about it.
It starts to rain, I can hear it pattering against the windshield. The gentle clatter mixes with the heavy erotic breaths coming from both of us. It almost masks the rain completely.
He slams me back down on his now naked thigh, using a finger to move the crotch of my underwear to the side so I experience the contact raw. Skin on skin, the warmth against my swollen nerves throb in sexual frustration.
Fuck.
He clutches my ass and directs me to continue. I start grinding, even better than before. I'm so soaked at this point and not much is going to make me finish. With the skirt hiked, I toss my head back and keep rolling my hips. It feels amazing.
"Look at me." He demands the minute I break eye contact.
I don't listen.
He aggressively grabs my face with one hand and yanks it back down in his direction. I'm forced to meet his eyes, seeing the bruiting glare in his. Our noses almost touch. My jaw stays hung open, a whimper of elation leaving my mouth. He breathes with me, parting his lips as if he feels pleasure from this too. His eyes are heavy but they hold a lot of authority in them. I shove his grip off my face, hard enough to make him let go. He chuckles at my bratty resistance, finding it amusing how much I'm not letting him be dominant over me.
"Easy, sucker..." He says like he's taming a lion.
My eyes trace down to his boxers, seeing the bulge he's got pent up beneath the material. Out of courtesy, I reach my hand down to grab him over the fabric. I want to even the playing field, make him weak to my touch so I'm not the only one falling apart like this. But the second I get a grip, he snaps his hand around my wrist and yanks it away.
"Did I tell you to touch my cock?" He scolds with my wrist swallowed in his hand.
I shake my head.
"But you just can't help yourself, right? You want to touch me so bad. You want to make me cum, don't you?" He uses a degrading tone that tries to belittle me.
He's driving me insane and he loves it.
I frustratingly jerk my wrist out from his hand, clenching my jaw and grabbing his biceps again. The car windows are fogged at this point, our breaths heating up the tight space.
I'm nearly slipping back and forth on his thigh, my own lubrication making this so pleasurable. He glances down at the contact, shaking his head.
"You're making a mess."
His words shamefully make me moan, tossing my head back and grabbing the back of his neck for leverage. He breathes in composure to feel in power, hands on my hips and harshly assisting the movements.
It feels so good.
The skin contact from the wet grind on his thigh would be embarrassing if I wasn't so clouded by desire. The dampness I'm spreading only makes the friction indescribable. I've never done something like this before.
"Shit—" I stifle in pleasure, rocking faster as I feel a familiar ache grow but it's painfully slow in build.
"Yeah? You like doing this? Being so desperate you need to ride my thigh in order to feel something?" He prods in a deep tone. "Look at you, look how flustered you are. I knew you couldn't control yourself..."
Holy fuck.
"Harry—" I moan and toss my head back with heavy pants of an orgasm approaching.
"Are you gonna look at me and say that?"
I clench my jaw and look down at him, frustrated at how controlling he's being in the hope I'll be submissive to him. I'm never going to be submissive to him, not anymore.
I grab a fist of his hair and the back of his head, yanking it back and making him look up at me. My jaw stays clenched, my hips thrashing to a close climax. Eyes staying on each other. Neither of us back down as to who has more power in this situation; him granting me his leg to get off, or me using his leg to get off.
"You don't have any power over me," I whisper through my teeth.
He grins with mischief as I keep his head cocked back. "You sure about that?"
My chest starts puffing up and down, my staggered breath making the small car humid. He keeps those perilous green eyes charring into mine. Reddened lips parted, he feeds off my energy as I keep grinding on his soft skin. The pressure is ready to explode as it's going to come hard.
"Oh my god—" My one hand slaps against the cold wet window while I keep the other in his hair.
He groans, digging his fingers harder into my hips.
My body is basically pressing to his at this point, feeling his chest expand with every breath as I rock both of our bodies in the chair at this point. Stray curls lay in his eyes as he stares up at me with devoured hunger. His cheeks are pink from the heat, panting with me, moaning. He loves this. He could probably get off to this if I do it long enough.
My hips go staggered in rhythm right before the anticipation explodes and I release my orgasm on his thigh. He forcefully keeps rocking my hips for me to ride out the impenetrable climax. My muscles throb on his leg as everything suddenly becomes too sensitive. I nearly stop breathing for a second, letting out a turbulent moan as I get through the depth of the peak. I break out in a sweat with the release, it knits in my scalp and every crease of my body. I clash my head forward on the edge of the headrest, a winded relief water-falling through me.
"There you go...ride it out." He whispers in gentle encouragement, his hands still rocking my hips for me.
My hand slips off the window while the other weakens the grip of hair at the back of his head. My hips tingle with heat from expelling my climax. I feel like a puddle of nothing at this point, worn out. He starts slowing down my hips for me, coming to a very gradual stop. My brain is buzzing with weakening stimulation, I can barely think clearly.
My eyes stare out the back window of the car, watching the rain trickle down the glass to make it blurred. It's quiet rain, pattering calmly. I take a few moments of silence melting against his body. We're both still panting, even though I'm the only one that came. His hands run up and down my hips as I finally let go of his sweaty hair.
"Did that feel good?" He whispers over my shoulder, massaging his thumbs into my hips.
Too worn out to speak, I don't say anything.
"Thought so." I can hear the smirk.
Reality starts catching up to me as I conceptualize what just happened. I just got off, to Harry. Literally to him. I'm not supposed to be here, I don't even know how long we've been in this alley. An hour? Twenty minutes? All night? What if people are looking for me? What if they try to track my phone?
"I need to go." I sit up, kind of abruptly due to the realization of this situation.
He looks up at me and calmly nods with a cocky grin, still rubbing the pads of his thumbs on my hips. "I know."
Why is he smirking?
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you've won or something?"
"Oh, like a checkmate?" He tilts his head.
The car runs silent as he keeps that look on his face telling me that he definitely counts me having an orgasm to him as a checkmate. I decide to not say anything else before manoeuvring off his lap and flipping back into the passenger seat.
He shakes his head and grins, levitating his hips to pull his jeans back up even though I just came all over his thigh. I put my leather jacket back on. Fixing my hair, he gets his pants up but leaves them undone. He's rock hard, I don't think he could fit in his jeans if he tried.
I can't believe he wouldn't let me get him off.
"You seriously didn't want me to return the favour?" I ask out of shock.
He shakes his head, starting up the car again so the engine revs.
"Not tonight."
"Why?" I furrow.
He chuckles. "I told you, I'm not breaking that easy."
I clench my jaw.
He winks cheekily and puts his hand on my headrest to reverse out of the alley. I run my hair back, pulling down the overhead mirror to make sure I wasn't a nightmare. Driving out to the road, my eyes catch glimpse of my smeared handprint on his fogged window. The only spot there isn't condensation.
He clears his throat, smirking to himself while mumbling something under his breath.
"Checkmate."
//
oh boy ....
daydreaming is one of my fav songs right now on the album!! <3