𝑁𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑎༆

The afternoon sun was a brilliant, liquid gold over the sea of polished black limousines.

You found yourself in a fancy dealership somewhere on the outskirts of LA, the smog hanging low in the sky.

Michael stood with his hands in the pockets of his crisp, black pleated dress pants, his red short-cut sailor bomber jacket unbuttoned. He had on that corduroy shirt he loved. He was listening intently to the sales man pitch a few different limosines on offer.

He was trying to lay lower this day, bring fewer eyes to his - so he had a black fedora tilted low, shadowing his dark, handsome features and the lush cascade of long, tight curls that brushed his jacket collar.

His aviator sunglasses hid his eyes as he slowly circled a magnificent, jet-black, shiny 1987 Lincoln Town Car Limousine.

“Man, the exterior is flawless,” he said, his voice soft, carrying on the warm breeze.

He ran his hand along the fender. “Clean lines. She's a beauty. Defintely one for the collection.” He glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “What do you think so far, baby? Is this the nicest we've seen?”

Before you could answer, the salesman, Todd, practically vibrating with nerves, interrupted you. You could tell this pissed Michael off a bit, but he let him continue.

“It’s just off the lease from a very discreet corporate client, Mr. Jackson. Absolutely pristine condition both outside and inside.”

Michael nodded, not really listening now, his focus on the car in front of him. “The tint,” he said, leaning close to the window to check it out. “It’s the legal maximum?”

“Oh, yes sir. Complete privacy.”

“Good.” Michael straightened. “Lemme see the interior. It could look as right as rain on the outside but be an absolute disaster on the inside.”

Todd rushed to open the heavy rear door. Michael nodded at you to hop in first, to check it out.

You slid across the plush, grey velour bench seat, the smell of new leather enveloping you. Michael followed, folding into the space with elegant ease. Todd hovered at the door, his arm hanging lazily over it.

“The wood is real burl walnut,” Todd started. "She's a real show stopper, sir."

Michael held up a gentle hand to Todd. “If you don’t mind… could we have a moment? Just to discuss... our options?”

“Of course!” Todd said, eyes wide.

“I’ll… I actually need to ensure the front office is clear for when we take you back there. I'll grab the keys for a test drive whilst I am back there too.”

“Take your time,” Michael said, flashing that disarming smile.

Todd carefully closed the door. The solid clunk sealed you in a sudden silence, the hustle and bustle of the showroom was no more. The world outside became a shimmering, silent diorama.

Michael sat still, absorbing the silence. He was always about the energy of something.

And with it being this expensive, you didn't mind him taking his time to think it through. He rarely thought through other purchases when he was excited about something, so you were not intending on rushing him - no matter how boring this day had gotten.

He removed his fedora, placing it neatly opposite on the bench that ran the whole length of the limo, you were both sprawled on the back seat.

Then, with a slow motion, he took off his aviator sunglasses.

“So dark in here, those windows must be good,” he murmured, his voice now an intimate rumble.

He turned to you, his brown eyes warm and focussed.

“Couldn't even see my angel properly.” He leaned closer, the scent of his sandalwood cologne and spearmint gum wrapping around you.

“So. What do you think? Honestly?" He gave you a hopeful look, and then said "I know this day has been a bore for you, m'sorry about that.”

You looked around at the luxurious interior. “It’s incredible, Michael. It feels like its own little world. So private.” you gave him a shy smile.

"M'never bored when I am with you."

He grinned back at you like that, a little blush climbing up to his cheeks.

“That’s what I thought, it definitely is private,” he said, his gaze dropping to your lips.

Despite his blushing and politeness before, he seemed to get an idea in his head.

That shy persona melted away, leaving something intense in its wake.

“Our own little world behind the glass.” He closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft, searching kiss that quickly deepened. His tongue tasted of bubblegum, and you opened for him with a sigh.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours. “Gotta test the privacy for real, though,” he whispered, a playful, wicked edge in his tone.

His hands slid from your cheeks to your waist. “C’mon. Climb into m’lap, baby,"

"Baby no, not here..." you said back, hesitant, knowing where his mind was.

"Just c'mere and let me love on you a 'lil."

His voice, that soft command, sent a jolt through you.

You shifted, letting him guide you until you were straddling his lap, facing him, your knees sinking into the velvety cushion on either side of his hips.

Your skirt rode up, exposing your thighs. He settled you firmly against him, your core pressed against the hard plane of his abdomen, the position shockingly intimate.

“See how nice this is? How intimate?” he breathed, his bare hands sliding up your outer thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt even higher, until the cool air of the shaded car interior whispered over your skin.

“Perfect.” He began to move, a slow, deliberate lift and roll of his hips upward.

The motion pushed the hardness forming in his flimsy pants up against the underside of your ass and the backs of your thighs where you sat on him. 

You inwardly freaked out at the fact he was engaging in this right now, fucking dry humping you in the back seat of a car in a show room.

You could feel the shape of him through the fabric; a thick, insistent ridge of heat trapped in the fine wool.

The knowledge that he wasn't even wearing boxer shorts made it feel even more dirty.

It was intoxicating, and the prospect of getting caught in such a threatening position was... deleriously hot.

Driven by a sudden, bold impulse, you reached one hand between your tightly pressed bodies, your fingers seeking the hard line of him through his pants.

You managed to palm the swollen head of his cock through the wool, feeling it jerk under your touch. He let out a sharp, hissed breath.

But before you could explore further, his hand caught your wrist, pulling it gently but firmly away. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice thick. "Let me give you some attention. I haven't been able to all day." He brought your captured hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before placing it back on his shoulder.

"we shouldn't be doing this," you moaned, the feeling of him pressed against your underside driving you a little crazy, your insides twisting with want.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and pleading. "Please," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "Please take off your panties for me, baby."

"No way," you hissed back, your face flaming. "Michael, we can't."

"Please," he insisted, his hips giving another slow, persuasive lift that pressed him firmly against you, making you gasp.

"Just get up for a second and take 'em off. I'll be quick with this, I promise. He's not coming back any time soon, it seems." He nodded toward the empty lot beyond the tinted glass. "C'mon. For me. I'm always so good, and proper about things, lemme fool around with you."

The combination of his begging, the intense privacy of the car, and the heat coiling low in your belly was too much.

With a shaky exhale, you pushed yourself off his lap. Turning your back to him slightly for a shred of modesty, you hooked your thumbs into the lace waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs. It was so cramped that you were wobbling a bit, and for that you heard him giggle slightly.

Bemused, and with a smirk on your face, you swirled them around your finger and tossed the small, damp scrap of fabric onto the velour seat beside his fedora.

The second you moved to climb onto his lap, his hand shot out like lightning. He snatched the panties from the seat, balled them in his fist, and shoved them deep into the inner pocket of his red sailor jacket before you could even settle back onto him.

A triumphant, wolfish grin spread across his face. "Mine now," he whispered, his hands coming back to your bare hips to guide you down.

Now, with nothing between your skin and his pants, the feeling of the soft black wool was electrifying.

“Imagine,” he whispered against your lips, resuming that slow, lifting roll of his hips.

His hands slid around your wait, then lower, between your tightly pressed bodies.

It was a tight fit, but his long, elegant fingers found their way. His pointer and middle finger slipped down, seeking your slick folds.

He let out a soft groan as they made contact. “You’re already so wet for it, aren’t you? Just thinkin’ about being dirty like this.”

He began to rub you then, his fingers finding your clit, circling it with pressure, while intermittently dipping into you.

His hips never stopped their motion, the thick, hot line of his cock a constant pressure against you, pulling a ragged moan from your throat.

You were so worked up, a fresh gush of wetness escaped you, soaking directly onto the fine black wool of his dress pants beneath you. The dark fabric grew damp and warm against your skin, a blatant, secret stain. So embarrassed, you hid your face in his neck.

“Oh my shy baby,” he coaxed, his own breathing labored.

“S'okay. Don't be ashamed of how your body reacts to me. This could be ours. This kind of privacy always.” He slid a finger inside you, just one but deeper now, curling it expertly, and you cried out, your body clinging to his even tighter.

"Whenever we don't have the time at home or in the hotel, I'll just have you right here in the back of my limo." He added a second finger, stretching you gently, the squelch of your wetness loud in the silence.

"Mmm, the partition rolled up, or maybe even down?"

You knew the latter was never going to happen - but the sexy scenario really got you both going.

"I hate you for this Michael, someone is going to catch us--"

"Mm who cares, they shouldn't be watching me so closely anyway." He pulled his fingers from your cunt with a sickening 'pop' and continued to rub your clit even faster.

“Gonna make you come in this car before I even buy it,” he whispered, his thrusts into your ass becoming more erratic, chasing his own pleasure against the fabric.

“Gonna feel you clench on my fingers and know I did that—”

A sharp, distant rap on glass. “Mr. Jackson? Everything alright in there? I have the keys!”

Michael froze, his whole body tensing, his eyes locked on yours, a few of his stray curls in front of them. He let his head lul and fall into your neck, letting out a groan of pure frustration. His fingers stilled inside you, buried to the knuckles.

Another knock, closer. “Sir?”

"just a sec!"

With a sound of agonized reluctance, he slowly withdrew his fingers.

He held them up between your faces, glistening and slick in the dim light, your wetness stringy on his long fingers.

Holding your dazed gaze, he brought them to his mouth and slowly, deliberately, sucked your taste from his skin, his tongue swirling between his fingers.

"Jesus Christ, Michael, that's insane of you to do in public,"

"don't take the lord's name in vain, you bad girl," he feined annoyance

Although you could tell there was some truth behind it; annoyed because he didn't finish you off like he said, and that he also gave himself a case of blue balls.

“We are gonna finish this at home,” he whispered, the promise thick and urgent.

His dark eyes were boring through yours still, ignoring the salesman's incessant knocking.

"D'you hear me?" his voice was genuinely quite stern. "M'gonna finish you off, as soon as walk through the front door, ok?"

You just nodded at him, all innocently. The thought of him pulling you into the house and not even waiting to get up the stairs, probably having his way with you right in the hallway made your stomach drop with want.

He helped you off his lap, his hands shaking slightly. You both scrambled to straighten your clothes. As you smoothed your skirt, you remembered your missing underwear. Flushing, you reached a hand toward the pocket of his jacket where you’d seen him stash them.

His hand shot out, catching your wrist gently but firmly.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided softly, a devilish glint in his eye.

"Not so fast. I wanna see you squirm with no panties on for the rest of the day. A little reminder."

You huffed but couldn't suppress a shiver.

He glanced down at the obvious, damp patch on the front of his black pants and gave a low, appreciative chuckle. "Gonna have to hope he doesn't see that!"

He adjusted himself with a wince, moving his dick up to the waist band of the pants.

He then picked up his fedora from the side seat and placed it back on his head at its perfect, casual angle and then rushed to put on the aviators to hide his eyes.

He opened the door, flooding the cabin with light. You climbed out after him, your legs unsteady, hyper-aware of the empty feeling under your skirt.

Todd stood there, keys in hand, his expression carefully neutral. “Ah! Sorry for the wait. So, test drive, or shall we start the financing paperwork?”

Michael stepped forward, slipping an arm around your waist.

He smacked his gum that he was still chewing despite the shenanigans earlier slowly, looking from the limo to you.

As he did, he lifted the hand that had been inside you and, under the guise of adjusting his sunglasses, rubbed his fingers just beneath his nostrils, inhaling subtly but deeply.

The gesture was hidden by the motion of his arm and the tilt of his hat, but you saw it, and you knew. You knew he was teasing you.

He caught the barest glimpse of your reaction through the dark lenses, his cheek twitching in a suppressed smirk.

“M’girl likes it,” he said, his voice calm and final.

“So m’gonna take it. No financing necessary. I’ll pay cash.” He looked down at you then, and though you couldn’t see his eyes behind the shades, the curve of his smile and the slight tilt of his head were a private, potent wink, a silent seal on the promise of what was to come.

Todd broke into a broad, relieved smile. “Right away, Mr. Jackson!”

The salesman then toddled off in front of you both.

Michael just smirked at you and gave another silly wink. As you started to walk away behind the sales man, back to the reception office, Michael murmured to you.

"Feelin' breezy down there, baby?"

"Shut up, asshole."

"Mmm. Make me!" he sniggered into his hand, that was now covering his face shyly. He was so confident behind closed doors with this stuff, but as soon as you were back in public, he was a giggling mess.

"Yeah, later, I'll make you." you said, now walking ahead.

"Ooh, and I cannot wait for that."

⭒ 〔 © urbanfunkchild 〕

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