#day 24

You shook your head, but against your better judgement, you still climbed in. The seat was hot from the scalding Mississippi sun rays, the smell of oil and tobacco heavy in the small space.

"Where we goin', Stack?"

"Nowhere special," he said, shifting gears. "Just thought the night felt too good to spend front-porch sittin'."

The Ford bounced down the dirt track, fireflies blinking in the ditches. Stack was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the blues from the nearby juke joint. Every time the headlights bounced, the brown in his eyes danced.

"I missed you," he said.

"You did, did you?" You couldn't help smiling, turning your body toward him.

He nodded. His eyes stayed on the road, but his hand moved to rest on your knee.

"You know Smoke ‘gon kill you if he go outside and find his car gone,” you said.

"Then we best make it worth the trouble," he said deliberately, firmly.

That line hung thick in the air between you. You turned to the side and pretended to be looking at the trees, but you felt his eyes shift from the road to your profile.

"What are you thinking about over there?"

"I'm trying to decide whether to jump out before we are both in trouble!"

“Too late for that,” he replied with a chuckle, easing the car into a hidden gravel path that led down to the river.

The engine idled quietly, a low, throaty sound in the dark. He cut the lights and the world was black except for the light of his cigarette tip.

"Stack," you warned, half-laughing, half-serious. "We can't be long. You have to get this car back before Smoke notices."

"Then we'll be quick. Real quick," he said, leaning in.

The words hung in the air along with the legato hum of the motor. The smell of river water and gasoline, something wild and inevitable, crawled between the two of you. He’d brought you here twice before. The first time on a date to watch the sunrise. The second time to make out like horny teenagers. A few blocks down from the juke, tucked away behind gigantic trees, the river a few feet away singing softly.

He reached over, brushing back a wayward curl from your cheek. The entire world froze, the cicadas, the crickets, even the Ford seemed to hold its breath.

You placed your knees in the seat and leaned over, unbuckling his belt and freeing his dick from his trousers; he was half hard, thick and warm.

You gripped him firmly, pumping him slowly. It didn’t take long for him to grow in your hand.

You pressed your lips against his in a kiss. He cupped the side of your face as he deepened the kiss, moaning as you stroked him faster.

“Tell me again how much you missed me.” you whispered against his lips.

“I missed you so much this week, but especially today.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted. You pecked his lips once more before leaning down. “Let me show you how much.”

You wrapped your lips around the tip. It was warm and velvety against your tongue. You reveled in the soft feel of Stack's dick running over your tongue and taste as you took him as far in as you could, breathing through your nose. He hissed lowly as the wetness and heat of your mouth swallowed him whole.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. The light from the moon exposed the heated stare he gave you. It was enough to make you feel lightheaded. The gold on his teeth flashed at you as he bit into his bottom lip. The sight had you dripping for him.

You licked a wet stripe up and down the length of his shaft before rising up to close your lips around the crown, stroking the rest of his rod swiftly. 

“Goddamn, Y/N,” he grunted softly. “You, uh—shit—must’ve really missed a nigga, huh?”

He moaned your name again in between grumbles of filthy nonsense, stretching out his legs as he cupped the back of your head. You swirled your tongue around, drawing out a deep groan from him as you flattened your tongue down the underside of his tip. He lifted his hips, thrusting up as he held your head in place. 

“You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth,” he praised. “The moon doin’ you justice right now, baby.”

You moaned at the compliments as he fucked up into your mouth, his free hand yanking your skirt up before bringing his palm down hard over your ass. You jerked in surprise, moaning around him as he brought his hand down again, harder this time. Your hand braced on his knee while the other fondled his balls. Tears pricked your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down as much as you could, gagging briefly as the tip of his dick slipped down the back of your throat.

"Fuuuck, Y/N," he cried out, stopping his movements as he squeezed your shoulder, "St—stop before I come."

You didn't stop, though. Your head continued to bob up and down, spit dribbling out of the corners of your mouth and down his shaft.

He warned you again, inhaling sharply. "I said stop—"

"Shut up and come down my throat." Your command came out muffled, but his grip on the base of your neck confirmed he heard you.

“Don’t stop, baby,” he grunted, thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth as he chased his release.

Stack was no more than ten seconds away from coming down your throat when an irritated voice cut through the night like a sharpened butcher knife. “I know damn well you niggas ain’t fuckin’ in my car!”

You both froze.

Caught.

His dick slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop as you both scrambled to fix your clothes.

“Oh shit,” Stack inhaled sharply, helping you pull your skirt back down while also struggling to shove his thick, spit-slick dick back in his pants, the belt clinking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said under your breath, looking towards the trees and squinting, hoping that would help you find where his pissed-off brother would be coming from.

Eventually the heavy boots stomping on the burnt leaves got closer, and your heart was about to burst out of your damn chest.

The moon was obscured behind the trees, and shadows swallowed everything. You still couldn't tell if Smoke was coming from the road or the bank of the river.

Stack clumsily handled the keys and cursed under his breath. “I ain’t even sure which way he comin’ from!”

“Then just drive, nigga!” you said back.

The engine sputtered once and then roared to life—too loud, too late.

Smoke’s voice rose. “Boy, if you don’t get my truck goddamn truck back to where it belong—”

Stack slammed it into gear. The tires kicked up mud, spat dirt, and the Ford lurched forward. You held onto the dash and laughed and gasped all together.

“He’s gonna skin yo ass too thin to fry!”

“Only if he catch me!” Stack yelled back as his cackle broke through the dark.

The truck tore down the trail, Smoke's fury echoed behind you now replaced with your giddy laughter and the smell of the dust kicked up around you. When the trail opened back up onto the main road, Stack eased off the gas, the two of you already exhausted.

“Remind me,” you said through your laughter, “to never trust you with a borrowed thing again.”