His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Forty-Five: Car

A/N: I know it feels like forever, but I SWEAR it's been less than 1.5 weeks.

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Chapter Forty-Five: Car

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Luke:

I drive around my neighbourhood for a bit as Feelz and I try to come up with places that we can go to, uh.

Do it, I guess.

I finally pull up into the deserted dirt parking lot of the local park. I cut the engine in a secluded spot tucked in the corner, surrounded by tall trees that blanket one side of the car.

Wait, should I leave the engine on? It's chilly outside, but my skin is burning up.

I look over at Ophelia and she looks back at me, chewing her bottom lip absently, her eyes sparkling in the dark. I can't see her very well, so I click on the small light above our heads and it washes us in a cool LED glow.

God, she's so pretty. Her skin is so soft, and so is her hair. We click our seat-belts off and then I lean in to kiss her, and she leans in too. The center console digs into my stomach a little as I grasp onto the back of her head, my heart hammering beneath my ribs and goosebumps prickling across my skin.

One of her small hands slides down my chest, slips beneath my shirt to float over the feverish muscle of my abs. A soft hum echoes past her parted lips. I slide my tongue into her mouth, and heat skates down my spine, settles low in my gut. Fuck, she tastes good. Always so good, like earth and sweetness, like home and warmth and... all my favourite things. She's my favourite thing, I swear she is.

I reach an arm over so I can trail my hand down her side, snake my fingers under the hem of her over-sized t-shirt to caress the soft skin of her hips. She shivers, presses closer to me, and our arms wind around each other, our kisses grow wetter, sloppier, hungrier. My dick strains restlessly against the zipper of my jeans and this stupid car is way too small for all the ways I want to touch her, all the places I want to kiss her, all the smooth, warm inches of her flesh that I want to see and taste and feel...

The cramped spaces around us fill with the loud, moist sounds of our mouths tangling together. The tiny, breathy sighs and hums and whimpers that escape her drive me wild. "Luke," she eventually whispers against my lips, "Can we..."

I capture her mouth again and draw her body closer to me with my fingers threaded through her hair. "Back seat?" I ask hoarsely, and she nods. She's so small that she starts to lift herself up and fit between the seats to crawl into the back of the car but I just swing open the door and climb out. The opening and slamming of doors reverberates into the stillness around us as I hurry to join her, lock the car after me, reach for her.

We sit next to each other as we make out, and her hands grasp at my shoulders, begin to tug impatiently at my shirt. My legs fold awkwardly against the front seat as we tear each other's tops off, and the air around us is cool, makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I pull away from her with a groan and mumble, "Just a sec."

I wedge my arm between the front seat and the door so I can use the buttons to push the seat as far forward as it'll go, and when she sees what I'm doing, she stretches in front of her to do the same with the passenger side.

With a few more inches of room, I feel a bit less claustrophobic. But as we crash into each other again, arms and hands and fingers and mouths twisting and tangling together, our labored breathing and burning skin fill the car with a muggy, humid heat. It's too confined and crowded in here for it to be comfortable, but I slip off my shoes, and she does the same. She shifts so she can lean her back against the door and I maneuver myself over her to begin fumbling with the button of her jeans. I tug the tight fabric impatiently down her legs while she wiggles and shimmies her low half to help me.