warnings: romance / foreplay
He told her no, a hot breath against her neck as his lips parted to say it.
She gasped, fingers curled into the cotton at his collar as his dug into her hips, held her down against him.
The windows were fogged, vents blowing cold air but their bodies put off a heat that rivaled the temp outside the car. Its interior glowed green and pink from dash lights and the bar that had long ago declared its last call and turned out all its other lights.
Her head tilted back down to try to catch his lips, but they skimmed across her shoulder, smiled against the results of too much sun and not enough protection. His nose nudged at cream colored straps, blue bows that matched the coast out beyond the fog.
A whine, a bratty sound fit for a tantrum she was far too old to throw, slipped from her as she tugged on the front of his shirt. He only rolled his hips up into hers in response, mouthed at her collarbone and tried not to laugh at how her pouting turned to a sigh of pleasure as his lips parted and his tongue flicked against her skin.
Her fingers scraped at the back of his neck, and she ground herself into him, needed to be closer, needed more. She tugged at his hair as his tongue and teeth made a mark that was sure to last. His name was lost, her groan of it too far gone to be heard over the REO Speedwagon playing over the radio.
He mouthed at her, gave her what she asked for, kissed across her chest and back up the column of her throat as she arched in his hold. Large hands clung to her waist, he nosed at her jaw, gasped against her skin as she rolled over him harder, a desperate sort of motion that had him wrinkling the fabric of her dress before he sucked another bruise just under her ear. Her thighs clamped around him, fingers gripped the leather seat, she practically sobbed out a please, exhausted and they hadn’t even started, not yet, not really.
Her dress was fanned out over his lap, hiding how indecent this all was, the mess she was making all over him, how much he was aching for her in his jeans.
Two fingers tapped under her chin, made her look up at him as he swallowed and didn’t know if he could trust his voice.
“Please, what?” He asked like he didn’t know the answer.
“Can I…” she blinked at him, hazel eyes blown out, gaze on his mouth as she swallowed and tried again, “Can I have a kiss?”
His chest heaved with stuttered breaths, fingers played with the hem of her dress as he contemplated his answer.
He lifted her hand, disrupted the circles to the button at his collar her fingers had been focused on, kept eye contact with her as he pressed a soft kiss to her wrist.
Her eyelashes fluttered, her cheeks flushed, her hips squirmed, and he smiled against the pulse beneath his lips.
“Not yet.”