Hot In Here. Susan Lyons
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against her, matching his erection to the wet crotch of her panties.
She pressed back, hooking her feet into the railing behind him and using it to give herself leverage. Rubbing against him like a cat in heat. Which she pretty much was.
Had any cat ever felt this desperate for a dick?
She threw her head back, saw the dimly starred canopy of a hot August night, closed her eyes, let her whole being focus on the need between her thighs. She wanted him inside her but she was so aroused that even this stimulation, through their clothing, might be enough. He was hard and thick under those tux pants. And the fabric was thin; it even created a delicious friction. The tension in her body mounted with each up-and-down rub.
He was helping her, supporting her butt and lifting her, catching her own rhythm and improving on it.
“Oh, yeah, Scott,” she panted, “just like that.”
“Take me,” he gasped. “Take what you need.”
“I…” She’d run out of words, her orgasm was building. All she needed was—
“But take it quick!”
And he gave her exactly what she needed, pulling her against him as he thrust hard at just the right angle, unerringly finding her swollen clit. Then she was soaring, tumbling, crashing, flying, and—oh, my God—shrieking out her pleasure in an alley in the heart of downtown Vancouver.
She buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed, thrilled, worried her cries would bring someone running.
“Jenny, I have to—” Abruptly he thrust her away, just when she was enjoying the after-explosion glow, the feel of his taut skin over muscle, the musk of sweaty male.
“No,” she protested as he planted her on the concrete step, where she swayed on trembling legs. She caught at the railing to steady herself, yanked down her skirt and glared at him.
The glare was wasted because he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face clenched. In fact it seemed like every muscle in his body was clenched. He was leaning back, his hands gripping the railing as if his life depended on holding on.
And then she got it. He was on the verge of orgasm himself.
From satiation she went to immediate arousal.
Scott felt fingernails graze his belly, then two fingers slid into the waistband of his pants. He jerked away. “Jesus, don’t touch me.”
When he opened his eyes, Jenny was smiling up at him, her own brown eyes dancing in the night light. “Your turn,” she said huskily. “I want to see you. To watch you come as hard and wild as I did.”
Christ! He clenched the muscles in his groin, fighting to hold back. If she unzipped his pants, he’d be a goner the moment she laid a finger on him.
“Not this time.” He forced out the words. Not now, when he’d make a fool of himself in front of her. Maybe one day…. Crap, no, he couldn’t even let himself think about it.
“You…don’t want to come?”
“Jesus! Of course I fucking want to come!” Didn’t she realize every cell in his body had that single-minded urge? “Inside you!”
“I won’t argue with that. But where? Here?” She glanced around.
He did, too. Anyone could come along the alley or out the back door of the Caprice. They’d been crazy to do what they’d done. Besides, it was dirty out here, and the air held the faint reek of garbage and urine.
Jenny deserved a hell of a lot better than this, not that she’d been complaining a minute ago. Still, she was a girl, she’d like a comfortable bed. He could hold out. Couldn’t he? Even if it killed him? “You wanna go back to your place?”
“No!” The word burst out of her.
Well, damn, the girl was as horny as he was. “My truck’s got a big cab.”
“Your truck?” She glanced around. “Um, sure.”
His erection had subsided enough that he could walk, thank God. Hand in hand—man, was she tiny—they walked down the alley to the open-air lot where he’d parked. The other firefighters who’d attended the competition had gone. He could tell because his Ford F-150 was the only truck in the lot. The few other vehicles were definitely not firefighter wheels.
He took her by the waist and lifted her into the passenger seat. No way could she have climbed up there herself without a struggle, she was such a shorty.
Short, and small. Perfectly proportioned, but miniature.
She held out a hand. “Come on up.” Her fingers were small, slim and graceful, tipped with long nails painted pink, a couple of them with glittering stones embedded in them. It was the most girlie hand he’d ever seen.
She leaned toward him and her hair swung forward, gleaming, silky, alive. He had a vision of a Hawaiian woman under a waterfall, washing her hair.
Sexy hand, sexy hair. Could he get any harder without bursting?
Scrambling into a truck sporting a fire-pole boner wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but once he’d made it, he got right down to business. It had been a while since he’d gone parking, but if there was anything a farm-raised boy knew, it was how to do a girl in a truck.
In a few seconds he’d reclined the passenger seat part way and was sitting with her facing him, straddling his thighs. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his.
His hands found their way through that midnight wash of hair and gripped her head, holding it as his tongue thrust into her mouth.
She met it with hers, and what he’d intended to be a slow kiss quickly went fiery.
And his cock was three steps ahead. He groaned. Damn! He needed her, and he needed her right now.
She was lifting her skirt higher and he realized she’d taken off her panties. He stared, fascinated, at the shiny wisps of pubic hair, so few and so fine they accented rather than hid the pale skin below.
Man, that was the sexiest bush he’d ever seen.
He was reaching out to touch when her own fingers attacked the waistband of his pants, and then he couldn’t think of anything but getting out of his clothes and into Jenny. She slid down the zipper and he raised up off the seat so she could slide his pants and boxers down his legs.
His cock sprang free.
She paused and stared at it.
He’d never realized just how big it was. Now, beside tiny Jenny, his first thought was, man, she’d fit his cock as snug as a glove. A warm, wet, throbbing glove.
But what if he was too big for her?
No matter how horny he might be, he sure the hell wasn’t going to hurt a girl, getting his rocks off.
But then she purred, “Very, very nice,” and reached out one of those graceful hands.
“No!” He grabbed her hand. “You do that and it’ll all be over.”
“I’d have thought a firefighter would have better control over his…” she paused, ran her tongue around her lips and then finished, “hose.”
Normally he did. “Depends how strong the fire is.”
She was still staring at his cock, like she was fascinated by it. Or maybe scared?
He had to ask. “Are you, uh, going to be okay? I mean, you’re a small girl and…”
She looked up, her eyes smoldering. “I think we’re both going to be more than okay, big boy. You have a condom, or d’you want to use one of mine?”
Condom. Of course. He really wasn’t thinking tonight. “Wallet. Pants pocket.”
She fumbled for it, which had