#car fun

The streets glowed under the soft haze of the city lights as Silco maneuvered an Orange McLaren 750S with practised ease. The low purr of the engine filled the quiet between you, a comforting hum that matched the rhythm of your heart. It was your anniversary—another year spent together despite the chaos of the modern world, and tonight had been nothing short of perfect.

Silco had reserved a private table at the finest restaurant in the city, the kind of place where the atmosphere dripped with luxury, and the wine menu was longer than a novella. He had dressed sharply, his usual dark suit tailored to perfection, the red tie an elegant nod to his signature style. His sharp features were softened in the candlelight, though his eyes still carried that piercing intensity that made your heart race.

"Did you enjoy the dinner?" he asked, his voice smooth and low, cutting through the hum of the car.

"Of course," you replied, glancing at him. "You always know how to make things special."

He smirked, his lips quirking just enough to show satisfaction. "Good. You deserve nothing less."

The car roared softly as he accelerated down an empty stretch of road, the cityscape blurring into a tapestry of light and motion. His hand rested casually on the gear shift, but you could see how every movement was deliberate, calculated—a man who always stayed in control.

Silco's voice was smooth, almost teasing, as his hand found its way to your thigh. His grip was firm, his touch radiating warmth through the fabric of your clothing.

"I might melt if you keep staring at me like that," he said, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile tugging at his lips.

"What?" you asked, caught off guard by his words, though your cheeks warmed at the idea of being caught.

"Don’t hide it now," he murmured, his voice carrying that calm authority he always seemed to wield effortlessly. His thumb traced a lazy circle on your leg, sending a ripple of heat through you.

You laughed softly, trying to play it cool, but you knew you’d been caught admiring him. It wasn’t your fault, really—he looked impossibly attractive behind the wheel, the way his sharp features were illuminated by the glow of passing streetlights, his posture relaxed but commanding as he handled the McLaren like it was an extension of himself.

"You look sexy driving," you finally admitted, your voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of boldness and shyness.

Leaning forward, you let your lips brush his cheek, soft and fleeting, but it was enough to make his hand shift. His fingers slipped onto the inner part of your thigh, just barely grazing the sensitive skin, and you shivered under his touch.

Silco tilted his head ever so slightly toward you, the smirk on his face now undeniable.

"Flattery suits you," he said, his tone laced with amusement, though there was an edge of something darker beneath it. "But you’re playing a dangerous game, darling."

"Am I?" you replied, your lips curling into a smirk of your own. The tension in the air was palpable now, thick and electric, and you couldn’t help but revel in the way he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like you were tempting him to lose control.

"Don't distract me now," Silco warned, his voice low and tinged with that unmistakable edge of authority, though you could tell by the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips that he wasn’t entirely serious. His grip on the wheel tightened briefly, a silent effort to maintain his focus.

You shifted in your seat, turning slightly to face him. The movement caused his hand to slip further, fingers brushing dangerously closer. A sly grin crept across your face as you saw the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly.

"Not my problem," you teased, your tone playful and just a little provocative. "You’re the one allowing yourself to be distracted."

Silco let out a low hum, the sound almost like a growl as his eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road. His hand didn’t move, though; instead, it lingered, his fingers tightening slightly as if to remind you who really had the upper hand.

"Careful," he said, his voice calm but with a dangerous undertone that sent a shiver down your spine. "Push me too far, and I might decide to pull over."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning just a little closer to him, challenging him with the glint in your eyes. "Maybe I’m counting on it."

His lips curled into a wicked smile at your defiance, and for a moment, you swore you saw his fingers flex against your thigh in response. But he didn’t slow the car. Instead, he pressed on the gas, the engine roaring as the McLaren picked up speed, as if he was testing both his limits and yours.

"You’re going to regret that," he murmured, though the amusement in his tone betrayed the promise of retribution that lingered in his words.

Your fingers lazily traced lines along the back of his hand, resting on your thigh, the light touch clearly testing his patience. You noticed the way his breathing grew steadier, more measured, as though he were trying to keep control of himself. But you had a feeling control was slipping through his grasp.

Silco let out a low, frustrated exhale, and without a word, his foot eased off the gas as he began to slow the car. The McLaren purred quietly as he maneuvered it to the side of the highway, finding a lowkey spot hidden from the main stretch of road and, more importantly, out of sight from prying eyes or authority.

The instant the car came to a stop, you heard the click of his seat belt releasing. His sharp movements were calculated, purposeful, as he adjusted his seat and pushed it back, creating just enough room for what was about to happen—or rather, for the both of you.

Before you could process his next move, his hand slid to your waist, his grip firm yet inviting as he guided you effortlessly to straddle over him. The smirk on his face was pure mischief, his gaze piercing as he tilted his head to look up at you.

"You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?" Silco murmured, his voice low, almost a growl, the sound sending a ripple of heat through you. His hands roamed to settle firmly on your hips, his thumbs pressing into your skin as if to anchor you in place.

"You’re the one who pulled over," you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you settled on his lap, your knees brushing against the edges of the seat.

"Don’t think for a second this wasn’t your doing," he countered, his voice dark and rich, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. His hands slid up your thighs, slow and deliberate, as if to remind you just how much power he held in moments like these.

"Maybe I like seeing you lose control," you teased, leaning closer until your lips were just a breath away from his, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

His eyes glinted with dangerous amusement as his grip on your hips tightened slightly. "Darling," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, "you have no idea what you’ve just started."

Silco’s lips crashed against yours in a hungry kiss, his intensity taking your breath away. His left hand slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek with a surprising gentleness that contrasted with the fire in his kiss. Meanwhile, his other hand gripped your hip firmly, steadying you as you moved closer, your bodies pressed together.

Without breaking the kiss, your hand found the seat adjustment lever, and with a quick pull, the seat inclined backwards slightly, giving you more space—and a bit more comfort. The sudden motion startled him just enough to make him pull back, his hands instinctively gripping both your hips to steady you.

The kiss broke, leaving you both breathless, and Silco tilted his head to look up at you with a sultry, amused expression. His eyes burned with intensity, his lips slightly parted as he caught his breath.

"Naughty little thing," he said, his voice low and rich with amusement, though there was a hint of challenge behind his words.

You smirked, placing your hands on his chest as you leaned down, your faces inches apart. "I thought you’d appreciate the convenience," you teased, your voice soft but daring.

His fingers flexed on your hips, his grip firm yet teasing, as his smirk grew into something darker. "Convenience, is it?" he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin. "You seem far too pleased with yourself for this to be just about comfort."

You shrugged playfully, tilting your head as you let your fingers trail along the line of his tie. "Maybe I just like watching you try to keep up."

His laugh was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "Darling, you’re playing with fire," he said, his tone promising retribution. "And I don’t think you realize just how easily I can burn you."

As your lips collided again, the kiss was deeper this time, filled with raw hunger and intensity. Silco’s hand slid up, tangling in your hair with a firm tug, guiding your head back just enough to expose the curve of your neck. He didn’t waste the opportunity, his lips trailing down to your jawline before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

When his teeth grazed your pulse point, you felt your breath hitch. He chuckled lowly against your neck, the vibration sending a shiver through your body.

"Mine," he murmured, his voice possessive, as his lips pressed firmly against the spot. His teeth nipped lightly, followed by a soothing kiss, leaving a mark that would undoubtedly linger for days—a signature only he could leave.

Your hands, however, were anything but idle. One of them slid down his chest, trailing over the fine fabric of his top, while the other moved to his belt, deftly working the buckle with practised ease. His breathing hitched slightly against your neck, his lips pausing for a fraction of a second as he realized what you were doing.

Silco pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with both amusement and desire.

"You’re impatient tonight," he teased, his hand still gripping your hair as he studied you, the corner of his lips curling into a sly smirk.

"You’re one to talk," you shot back, your voice breathless but filled with playful defiance as you tugged the leather strap free, letting it hang loose.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as his grip on your hip tightened, grounding you firmly in place.

"If you think I’ll make this easy for you," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, "you’re sorely mistaken, darling."

Your hands, however, refused to slow, determined to keep the upper hand. With his belt undone, you moved to the button of his pants, slipping it free and tugging the zipper down with confidence that made his smirk widen. His eyes, heavy with desire, watched you closely, taking in every subtle movement you made.

Silco leaned back slightly, his head resting against the seat as he let you take control for a moment while his hands roamed on your sides.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, love," he muttered, his voice a mix of warning and amusement, though his hands betrayed his words as they gripped you tighter, guiding your movements.

"Maybe I like the danger," you countered, your breath hot against his ear as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of it before trailing down his jawline.

He growled low in his throat, his control faltering for just a moment as his grip on you tightened.

"Then let’s see how far you’re willing to take it," he whispered darkly, his lips crashing into yours again with renewed fervour.

The cramped space of the car was forgotten entirely as the heat between you grew, your bodies pressed together, his hands roaming freely as yours explored him with equal determination. The low hum of the McLaren’s engine beneath you and the faint sound of the wind outside only added to the thrill of the moment—hidden away from the world, lost entirely in each other.

Silco pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire and that familiar, dangerous glint.

"You’re going to regret teasing me like this," he said, his voice dripping with promise as his lips found yours once more.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: