Quick Study (12 page)

She cried out and he closed his eyes to feel more of her.

He braced his feet on the floor to drive his pelvis higher. Heavy and soft, her body sank lower and he thrust deeper. A sudden roar from a passing car made her freeze in place, his cock deep inside her, and look out the window. Fearing her modesty would make her stop, Paul wiggled lower, below the window, out of sight.

“Now you're just a girl sitting in a back seat on the side of the road,” he said. 

“Fucking your brains out,” she whispered, then grabbed the seats on either side of her and began to ride him. 

Vaguely he realized his grip on her hips was probably going to leave a bruise, but he couldn't make himself let go. For moments she would ride the building tension with abandon, but then, at the sound of a passing car, she would stop abruptly with him deep inside her and he thought he would die.

“You're killing me,” he gasped.

Her muscles tightened over his cock, then slipped up and down, up and down. “You deserve it.”

He nodded, happy to agree. “I do.” Just a whisper. He couldn't breathe, let alone talk. Much more of this and he'd pass out. Time to act.

“Oh, God,” she said as his hand reached between her thighs found her clit. Her rhythm faltered, but his fingers reminded her of what she wanted and soon Bonnie was straining to ride him with quick, frenzied abandon, passing cars be damned.

“Oh, God!” 

He could feel her come around him, spasming waves, wet and tight, and he shouted out with her, letting himself come and come and come inside her.

Bonnie sagged back against him and he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her shoulder, inhaling deep, calming breaths and savoring the unique smell of her. He ran his hands lightly over her breasts, enjoying the last moments of being inside her, and prayed she wouldn't regret what they'd done. She felt like home.

He laughed.

“What?” she asked, trying to turn around. 

He held her tight for one more post-coital thrust before letting her climb off of him and pull her pants back up. “I don't know,” he said, still smiling. “I guess I'm just happy.”

The warm, bright look in her eyes as she looked at him filled him with hope. After a moment, she smiled rested her head on his shoulder. “Me, too.”

“You don't have to marry me, you know,” he said. “I'll settle for daily sex and mutual adoration.”

“Only once a day?”

He grinned, rearranging himself back into his pants. “Now you're putting words in my mouth.”

“Only words?”

He stopped her laugh with a deep, slow kiss. The car was nice, but he wanted her alone and all to himself. The threat of a passing car was a distraction now that the fire was out. As he kissed her, she reached under his shirt and lightly dragged her fingernails across his back, and he gasped, wanting her again. No, this fire would never be out.

“You didn't have to worry about me not loving you,” she said softly. “Or the rest of it.”

Heart soaring, he smiled into her neck. “You love the rest of me, too? Which parts most of all?”

She wasn't going to be deterred, and turned in his arms to place a palm on either side of his face. “The impulsive, loving parts.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, laughing. “I sure got that.”

Their foreheads fell together in an affectionate bump. They sat that way for a long minute, lightly tracing their fingers along each other's bodies.

“Your place? I'm feeling the need for some impulsive, loving parts,” she said, adding, “By the way, you got room in that big house for a pair of lesbian senior citizens?”

Paul grinned. “Sure. They'll make great babysitters for my sister's kids.” He held her more tightly.

She nodded. “You're right. We'll be too busy fucking to be much help.”

Their laughter faded away into more open-mouthed kisses, then a rushed journey home.

Quick Study

© 2011 Gretchen Galway

http://www.gretchengalway.com

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author.

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 

About the Author

Gretchen Galway writes romantic comedies because love is too painful to survive without laughing. A graduate of Stanford University, Gretchen has accumulated writing material as a fit model, fashion merchandising assistant, database troubleshooter, textile designer, cottage gardener, and mother. Raised in the American Midwest, she now lives in California with her family.