Page 81 of Beautiful Monster

I don’t want to jinx this, but things feel very good right now.

Tensions rise during the drive home. It’s only about fifteen minutes, but we’re both shifting in our seats, like we’re starving for each other. During the long red light, he pulls my face to his across the console and presses his tongue between my lips, and the sensation it creates down below takes my breath away. Neither of us talks much during the ride. The need is too much to make coherent conversation anyway.

He pulls into the driveway, and I’m already unbuckling. Just as he puts the car into park, his hands are around my legs. Before I know what’s happening, I’m straddling his hips in the front seat of the car, my cotton dress draped over our legs. He crashes his mouth against mine, and I let out a moan when the thickness in his pants rubs against my clit. My panties are so wet already, I’m sure I’m making a mess all over his lap.

“Sunny,” he breathes against my lips, thrusting his hips up against me. “I can’t wait. Get a rubber out of the glove compartment.”

My heart beats even faster when I don’t move for the box, and it almost makes me shake with anticipation when I whisper back, “I’m on the pill, Alexander.” The second half of his name comes out in a whimper, and he grinds against me again. He lets out a groan and bites my collarbone gently. His fingers stretch my panties to the side, rubbing the pad of his thumb through the moisture pooling there. I’m so desperate for him to fill me, I could cry.

“I trust you,” I say, my voice high-pitched and pleading.

He stops his writhing as his eyes find mine. We’re both panting as he presses his lips against mine. “You can always trust me,” he growls.

Quickly, his hands move for his zipper and before I can take my next breath, his cock is out and perched at my still-sore opening.

“I want to feel you so bad,” he groans. “Go easy, baby.”

I lower my hips, and he slides in easily. I hear the air leave his lungs as I move, lifting and dropping my hips to experience a completely new sensation to having him inside me.

His eyes bore into mine as I move, watching as the motion of my body paints an expression of pleasure on his face. Suddenly, I’m overcome with the power and excitement of it all, and I’m bouncing on his lap as if I’ve been possessed by this passion.

“Oh god, Sunny.” His hands are gripping my hips tightly as I grind.

Then, he moves his fingers to my clit, placing his thumb fiercely against the sensitive spot. I slam my hand against the roof of his car and let out a shrieking moan.

I never want this to end. This is more than sex. It’s connection. And it’s nothing like I expected it would be.

My hips pound harder on his lap as the climax folds me over and seizes my entire body. I’m groaning and whimpering through the onslaught when I feel him shutter and match my sounds with his own.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters in my hair after I’ve collapsed on top of him. “What have you done to me?”

I chuckle breathlessly.

A few minutes later, I sit up to see the windows around us are foggy. When I look back down at him, his eyes are wide as he eats me up with his stare.

“You are amazing, rain cloud.” His lips press softly to mine, and I want to stay in this moment forever. “But I’m afraid you might kill me.”

I laugh against his mouth. We both wait for our breathing to level out and for the feeling to return to my limbs before climbing carefully out of the car. Immediately, I feel his cum leaking into my underwear. It makes me feel filthy and sexy.

After cleaning myself up in the bathroom, marveling at what the aftermath of sex without a condom is like, I find him sitting on the back patio, sucking down a bottle of cold water and offering me one.

“I want to order in for dinner. Sound good?”

I smile at him, nodding my head. We sound like a regular couple, and even though we’ve been doing the same dinner, lifestyle routine for weeks, this part is new. The feeling is so right together.

He pulls out his phone and orders Chinese delivery while I drape my legs over his. Rubbing my shins softly, we relax against our chairs and say nothing at all.

After what feels like an hour, he turns toward me. “Did you know about that program downtown that my sister was talking about?” He seems curious, but I can tell by his expression that this is something he’s been thinking about.

“Yeah…” I answer, avoiding his eyes.

“Have you applied for it before?”

I shake my head, trying to show disinterest. Really, I just want him to drop the subject. The six-month program is intense and for serious artists only. I love what I do, but the idea of drowning myself in it sounds exhausting.

“Why not?”

I shrug my shoulders, looking out toward the sunset. “I don’t know, Alex. It’s intense. I mean…just because I can paint a picture on your wall…”