You sigh in relief as you slide across the backseat of the limo. The sun set ages ago but the temperature still hovers stubbornly over eighty, and the humidity makes it that much worse. But in here, it feels like the air conditioning has been running for hours, and you’re delighted at the goosebumps that rise on your bare skin.
Rick smirks and runs a hand up your thigh, stopping just at the high hem of your skirt before reaching for two flutes of champagne. He offers one to you, and you take it.
“To you,” he says, raising the glass.
The limo pulls out of the garage and merges effortlessly into the night’s traffic. Neon lights spring up on either side of you, boutiques and restaurants and bars and clubs, bright and bustling despite the oppressive heat. Miami is your playground, but for now, you’re pleased to be so far removed from it all in a fancy car with air conditioning and alcohol.
“I-- uhh-- have to make a few stops,” Rick says as the limo comes to a halt outside one building. It’s one of his, a sleek casino that overlooks the ocean. He drains the rest of his drink and slips out to attend to his business.
It’s nothing new to you, going along for the ride while Rick checks in on the various casinos and clubs he owns, so you raise your own glass in a lazy salute and continue scrolling through your phone. Sometimes Rick is in and out in minutes, other times he spends nearly an hour doing whatever it is he gets up to in there; you find it best not to get involved.
This time, it takes Rick twenty minutes, and he returns with another nice bottle of champagne and a wink. He sets the bottle on ice to chill, his other hand returning to your knee. It is entirely nonchalant yet undeniably possessive, and you smirk.
Given the somewhat frequent stops for Rick to take care of his errands, the conversation tends to be idle: about food, the beach, your penthouse, Rick’s boat. But it’s pleasant and interesting, and most importantly it passes the time until Rick gets back into the limo with a slick grin and dark eyes.
As he pours you both new glasses of champagne, you press the intercom and ask the driver sweetly, “Would you be so kind as to take us around the block, please?”
The driver responds by gliding away from the curb.
“Short night,” you comment, draping yourself against Rick’s side.
“H--Had better things to do,’ he replies with a leer.
You hum and reach out to unbutton his shirt. His nipples are peaked from the cold, and you twist one until he hisses.
“Enough,” Rick tells you gruffly. “C’mere.”
He helps you into his lap, pushing impatiently at your skirt until it’s bunched up at your waist. His fingers trail up the inside of your thighs before he slips his index into your panties, running along the length of your pussy.
“Been w--waiting for this, h--huh? Fuckin’ soaked.” He doesn’t even give you time to answer before he sweeps over your clit, back and forth, achingly slow.
You lean into his touch even as you pout at him. “Took you long enough.”
“I’ll-- I’ll make it up to you,” he says, a self-satisfied smile pulling at his mouth as he slides his finger between your folds and presses in. “Hmm?”
You bite your lip. “That’s a start.”
Rick’s smile grows sharper and without warning, he pushes a second finger in.
You gasp and buck against him, hands flying to grasp his shoulders.
He chuckles lowly and curls his fingers, letting you grind your clit against his palm while you rock on his hand. “That’s it, baby, make a fuckin’ mess.”
And you are, you can feel your wetness dripping down his hand and soaking patches into his trousers. It’s filthy and indecent, and you love it.
His free hand falls to your hip to hold you still. He slips his fingers out of your pussy and holds them up to your mouth, eyes dark as he watches you lick at your own wetness. When his hand is clean, he picks up his glass of champagne and takes a sip. “Go on,” he says, nodding down at his lap.
You move back, just enough to undo the button on his trousers and unzip the fly. He pulls his cock out of his trousers and strokes it slowly, rubbing at the wetness beading at the slit. “You want this?”
You brush his hand away and grip his cock yourself. “Want your cock.”
You stroke his cock a few times before you move closer, positioning yourself above him. You rub the head of his cock against your slick folds, dipping it inside you for just a moment before dragging it up to tease at your clit. You keep at it until his hand tightens on your hip.
“Enough f--fucking around,” he grouses.
“Impatient,” you murmur, and just as he opens his mouth to complain you sink down on his cock, groaning in time with him as you stretch around him.
He gulps the last of his drink and tosses the glass carelessly to the side, both hands now free to wrap around you and hold you down so he can grind into your pussy slow and dirty.
You toss your head back, so deliciously full and aching as he fucks you. His grips loosens enough for you to move the way you want to, and you swivel your hips just right to hit that spot inside you each time.
He pulls the front of your dress down below your tits and sucks your nipple into his mouth, grunting as you try to fuck down on him while pushing your tit into his face at the same time. His arms tighten around your waist as he pounds into your cunt, and you can tell he’s getting close.
“Gonna come?” you ask, shifting your hips to meet each of his thrusts. “Huh? You gonna come inside me?”
“Fuck,” is all he can manage.
You laugh breathlessly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
You grab his wrists and pull, and he lets go immediately, lets you pin his wrists to the top of the seat. His eyes go dark as you slow the pace, as you rise up until just the head of his cock is left inside you. He tries to thrust up but you move with him. A warning squeeze to his wrists is enough to stop him from trying again, and he stares up at you, mouth slack.
You wait just long enough, savoring his expression before you tell him, “Good boy,” and you sit back on his cock in one smooth motion, taking no time before you’re riding him again, hard and deep.
He looks like a fucking mess, gasping and cursing as you fuck him closer and closer to the edge. You goad him on, telling him how you want to feel him come inside you, how it’s going to feel so good, and he moans. “I’m g-- gonna fucking--”
And he does, fucking comes inside you all hot and slick, cock twitching against your walls. You moan and ease up, just grinding slowly against him until his wrists twitch out of your hands and he carefully guides you up.
You slump back against the seat, picking up your own glass of champagne to sip from as you settle. Your heart is still racing, to say nothing of your wet, aching cunt, but you know you’ll get yours once Rick catches his breath.
He slips to the floor a minute later, coming to kneel between your legs. Without a word he pushes your thighs apart, hiking your skirt up as he pulls you towards the edge of the seat. His finger traces up your pussy again, catching his own come as it slips out of you. He pushes it back inside, and before you can say anything his mouth is on you, tongue sliding between your folds and around your clit.
It’s hard to tell if he’s trying to clean you up or drive his come deeper, but either way the feeling is exquisite, and you pull his face closer to you. He grunts and leans in closer, lets you grind your pussy against his mouth, licks and sucks at you until you come all over his face, gasping and whining as you shake to pieces.
When you can, you take the final sips from your glass and set it aside; you’re sure to have another drink before the night is over. Rick heaves himself upright and pops a piece of ice from the champagne bucket into his mouth. His hand falls to your thigh again, and you smirk. Oh yes, you think, plenty of time before the night is over.
((thanks to anon for this amazing ficlet idea, and even more thanks for being so patient about it. i hope you enjoy!!))
