“Fuck,” he groaned. I blinked in confusion, wondering what was the matter when in the next instance, he shot across four lanes to take the exit. His tires screeched, taking a right and another left and he pulled over next to an empty building, right under the large weeping willow tree.
Glancing around, I scanned the area and all the while my pulse thundered in my ears.
“What are we doing here?” I questioned him, my heart beating hard under my chest.
The sound of a zipper inside of the car had me whipping my head his way and my mouth just about dropped. His big, thick cock sprung out of his pants and Vasili’s big hand wrapped around him.
“Y-you, are you,” I couldn’t compose a sentence. “What are you doing?” I asked in shock, my eyes locked on his hand movements. His ink decorated fingers looked so damn hot as he pumped up and down. I had never seen anything so sexy. I wanted to feel his hands on my throbbing, aching center.
“Jerking off,” he groaned, his eyes on me. Holy shit! My heart thundered under my rib cage and fire burned in my veins. I should be appalled, disgusted, angry, but the only thing I managed the energy for was to get turned on.
This sight of him jerking off was so damn erotic.
I forced my eyes away from his cock and up to his face. His hooded gaze burned with desire, the tension in his body visible.
The silence in the car, broken only by his soft grunts and the low tunes coming through his car stereo. This is making me alive.
The words of the song reflected exactly what I felt at this moment. The song “Feel it” by Michele Morrone would forever whisper of this night, of this man. Vasili made me feel alive.
I felt him on every inch of my skin and he wasn’t even touching me. My tongue swept over my lower lip, and I bit into it, preventing a whimper escaping through my lips.
“See what you do to me, Isabella,” he grunted. Oh my God, was my breathing labored or was that his? Or both of ours?
My pussy clenched with need and my eyes returned to his cock. His hand tugged on it, up and down; the glistening of cum at the tip of it tempting me to lick it. Holy shit, I might just orgasm from watching him jerk off.
“Fuck, you smell so good.” His groans filled the inside of his Lamborghini. “Are you wet, malyshka?” My head nodded without registering the meaning of his words. “Touch yourself.”
I couldn’t move, mesmerized by his cock and pre-cum glistening, running down his shaft. I could just lean over and taste him, or at least touch him. Finally, I lost my battle with temptation and my hand reached out to his hard cock, wrapping around his big hand.
“Do you know how many times I get myself off thinking about you?” His voice was tortured, the tension and need for the release steaming off his body.
I removed his hand and wrapped my small hand around his shaft. The moment my hand touched his shaft directly, a loud groan echoed in the car and vibrated straight to my core. It has been five years since I touched him, but it might as well have been yesterday. God help me, my hand remembered him.“
*****
Copyright © by Eva Winners, Winners Publishing LLC
