wallflower writes

"F-fuck," you purred closing your eyes; and your breath came in jagged, uneven hitches, but he doesnt stop you instead he keeps making small circles on your waist.

Your breasts lay fully exposed to him, nipples swollen and glistening with his saliva. The cool air of the car brushed against them, drawing a shiver from your skin, though, the black tint of the windows kept you hidden from the parking lot and shielding you from embarrassment. But the thrill? of exposure or getting caughting never left you. If anything it pooled like heat in your lower belly.

The car felt like a vacuum of silence, except for the rhythmic, wet popping sounds of his mouth leaving and returning to your breast.

Now as you both sat bathed in amber light breathing heavily; your eyes devouring everything you ever held dear.

For a moment you just stay there and glance down at your top that hung open, buttons popped and scattered across the seat, the fabric gaping unfastened against your flushed skin. You were seated on his lap and straddled his thighs, while your short skirt bunched around your waist. Beneath, your underwear clung to you like a soaked rag, drenched with the evidence of your arousal, growing damper with each slow rock of your hips against his growing erection.

And every time he latched on your nipple, a low grunt escaped his throat, a sound of pure, animal hunger. You felt the pressure building in your lower belly, a tightening coil that threatened to snap. "I-am--gonna," you trailed off, your head rolling back in pleasure.

Leon pulls back just an inch, his eyes dark and predatory. "Just from me sucking you, baby? Aren't you a little too responsive today, hm? Or is it doing this out in the open that turns you on?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he shifts his grip from your waist to your breast, cupping the plump flesh in his palm and kneading it with rough intensity; molding and squeezing it in his palm before latching onto your other nipple. He sucks it hard, and as he does it; the action draws a loud cry from you, still his fingers kept pinching and rolling the sensitive peak he'd abandoned a few seconds ago.

"Ah—mphmm," you moan, startled by the sudden shift in his pace, his mouth working on one breast while his hand torments the other. "Leon--" you felt ashamed and still strangely turned on, and you whisper between your ragged breaths, "What is someone hear us?!"

"Sh've thought about that when you were whispering those naughty things in my ear, baby," Leon speaks around your breast, his stubble tickling your chest making you breath in slow pace, and a cruel smirk plays at his lips.

"Let me suck you in peace, baby." He grunts and dives back in, grazing his teeth against your nipple before drawing it deep into his mouth making you grip his shoulder for balance. And he sucks your nipple hard, while pulling the other sensitive peak between his fingers as if vacuuming the pleasure out of you.

Slowly, he removes his hand from your breast, and pulls your nipple out of his mouth making you whine in protest, he chuckles at your reaction and slides his hands down your belly towards the damp fabric of your underwear. His fingers found your clit instantly from above your underwear, as he traces it; you feel it was already peaked and pulsing. He flicks it hard that makes you nearly jump out of your skin, and you let out a broken moan the moment he does it.

"Your underwear is soaked, baby," he whispers, his voice a gravelly rasp. "Doing it in a parking lot makes you horny, hmm? Seems like you're a little slut."

"I'm not—" you protest instantly.

He grunts and hooks his fingers into the lace of your underwear and sliding it to the side of your cunt, as he does you feel the cool air hit your wet folds for a split second before he grips your waist and hauls your opening forward; towards his cock. "Look at it," he mutters. "Look how my dick is twitching for you."

"Don't lie, baby. Your pussy is screaming for my cock." Leon groans and hastily reached for his belt, the metallic click of the buckle opening echoing in the small space.

He freed his cock swiftly, which sprang out, thick and pulsing with a heavy vein running down the side. His cock was rock hard and already throbbing while the tip of his head pulsing at the need.

You obeyed his voice already desperate and looked down, seeing his cock hovering just an inch from your entrance, that makes you drool at the spot. And you shift instantly, guiding the broad head against your clit first, smearing the pre-cum that dripped off him across your sensitive nerves and as you do a whimpering sob of anticipation escapes your lips.

"Now," he groaned impatiently. "Squeeze my cock; sit on it."

You lick your lips as lust practically oozes out of your orbs and you lift your hips and sink down on his cock with a loud squelch, and you scream his name which makes you close your for a second as you feel the blunt head push past your dripping hole, sliding through the tight ring of your muscle and diving deep into your soaking heat.

The sensation was so overwhelming that tears spilled from your eyes and now every perfect bit of your makeup was ruined; not that you regret it.

As you swallows his cock into your cunt your walls wraps around his cock instantly and you feel his thickness stretching your walls to their absolute limit, and you gasp his name while arching your back; which for an instant made you feel like you had broken your spine in half.

"Fuck," Leon gasped, his head falling back against the seat. "Your cunt is such a perfect mold for my cock. If I could, I'd freeze you right here—forever."

You paused for a moment at his comment and straighten yourself before looking down where you two were joint his cock resting inside you; and your chest heaves heavily; as if you were taking your time to allowing your body to accommodate the intrusion of his cock.

You could feel the heat of him filling every available inch of you, the friction of his skin against your inner walls creating a searing pleasure, and you let your gaze settle on his flushed face, "Do it, baby" he whispered with a smile. "Ride my cock, like your life is depend on it."

You nod and hum in response and slowly you began to move, lifting yourself up, and sliding almost all the way down, the wet sound of your pussy releasing his shaft and devouring it again and again fills the car. Then, you repeat your own movements first move up; them you slammed back down. "Oh my god--!" "Fuck--Leon!! The impact sent a shockwave through your pelvis. You felt his cock hit your cervix, a deep, blunt thud that made your toes curl.

"Yes, just like that," Leon groaned, his hands moving from your hips to your tits, squeezing them in rhythm with your bounces. "Keep bouncing like that; take every inch of me."

"Leon, I can't..it's too much—" you sobbed, yet your hips betrayed you, still rocking against his cock and you felt unable to stop even as the words broke against your lips.

As his words settled inside your chest you increase your pace and the car began to rock gently on its suspension. Your lungs felt breathless, your movements turning frantic as the sounds of sex filled the car, the wet, desperate squelch of your juices churning with each thrust, the sharp slap of your thighs against his hips thrumming through your chest like a drumbeat; while the heavy, rhythmic heavy thud of his balls hitting your ass.

"Shhh... shhh, you're taking me so well, baby," he praised, his voice thick with lust and slowly with a low grunt he raised his hand to your face, catching your tears with his thumb, then slowly brought them to his lips, while his eyes stayed locked on yours as he licked them clean, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled and guttural. And in total excitement you accelerated, your hips blurring as you rode him fast. The amber light flickered as the car swayed with your movement.

He the next moment reached up; grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you down into a kiss, and he devoured your mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside to tangle with yours. And you feel yourself rainbow filling the back of your eyes; as you tasted the salt of his skin and the copper of desire. He sucked your tongue, exchanging saliva in a messy, desperate hunger that mirrored the friction happening below.

"I want—I want you to cum inside me!" you cried, your voice breaking.

Just then you felt a sudden, sharp spike of panic, the thought of a security guard walking by, a flashlight hitting the tinted glass, and that fear instead of making you stop acted like a fuel. Your internal muscles clamped down on him, pulsing in tight, rhythmic waves.

"Fuck, you're milking my cock," Leon growled, breaking the kiss to gasp for air. "You're trying to drain me dry, aren't you?"

"fuc--fuck." He gripped your hips and began to thrust upward, meeting your descent with powerful, violent surges. The speed increased, the sounds turning into a frantic, wet slapping. And you could feel the friction of heat building inside your stomach that felt like it was melting you from the inside out.

"I'm gonna come! Leon, I'm coming!"

"Do it," he roared. "Cum for me. Let me feel it."

He gave one final, deep plunge he buries himself to the hilt of your cervix his cock slamming against your deepest part. He groaned, a long, low sound of surrender, as he erupted inside you. You felt the hotness of his seed hitting and painting your internal walls, pulse after pulse of warm fluid filling your womb.

The orgasm hit you like thunderbolt. Your pussy contracted violently clamping around his cock in a series of intense, crushing spasms.

You screamed his name over and over again; the sound echoing in the enclosed space, your head falling onto his shoulder as your entire body shuddered.

"Good girl," leon moaned but he didn't stop. Instead he kept thrusting into you, making you shiver as your wrap your hands on the nape of his neck; his movements becomes shorter and more desperate. He could feel your walls pulsing around him, the heat of your climax triggering his own. "I'm—fuck—I'm!"

As he empties himself you press your bare chest against him, your skin slick with sweat, your breath coming in ragged sobs. The silence returned to the car, heavy and thick, broken only by the sound of your synchronized breathing and the ticking of the cooling engine.

But leon didn't move anymore, he kept you pinned to him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, feeling the remnants of the orgasm ripple through both of you.

Slowly he sighed and then he kissed your temple, his lips lingering on your damp skin. "You did so well, baby," he whispered, his voice returning to that soft, possessive hum. "Such a good girl."

You let out a low laugh and shaky breath, your heart hammering against your ribs; and you feel his beat in sync too and between the risk; the filth and the sheer intensity of him, you felt hollowed out, and utterly satisfied.

For a moment; you stayed there tangled in each other while his cock already hardened inside you but he made no movements anymore and in that amber glow, the scent of sex and leather clung to your skin like a cloth and the air soon turned a mixture of your sweat and arousal.

Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.

He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.

He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).

The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.

You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.

You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.

Hook, line, sinker.

Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.

Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.

What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.

Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.

Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.

Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.

Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.

He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.

This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.

There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.

You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."

The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”

So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.

“You okay?”

You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”

He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.

"Are you ever going to?"

His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."

“I’m having a great time.”

“Then what’s with the rush?”

“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”

He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”

“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”

“I actually am,” he argues.

“What—”

“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”

You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.

“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”

He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”

“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”

He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”

Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.

Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.

And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.

But is he always this attentive? This generous?

Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?

You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.

If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?

“You really think I’m about to squirt?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”

He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”

Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.

“Then make me squirt, Leon.”

He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.

Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.

“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."

“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.

“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”

Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.

“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ngh—h—”

“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”

The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”

He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.

“Don't fight it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”

“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”

Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”

“Good. Then let it happen.”

Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.

“Breathe through your nose.”

He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”

“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”

You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.

It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.

Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.

You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.

Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.

He pushes his palm against your clit.

“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”

A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.

“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.

Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.

“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”

He withdraws his hips with a smug grin.

“I would,” thrust, “very much,” thrust, “like that.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.

To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.

You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.