The streetlights blurred past, their glow cutting through the dark like dull knives. I gripped the wheel, the radio humming some soft tune I wasn’t paying attention to. My eyes flicked to her—just for a second—and that was all it took. She was leaned back in the passenger seat, her skirt riding up high enough to show off the curve of her thigh. Her fingers drummed lazily on the armrest, but her eyes—those fucking eyes—were locked on me. There was a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, like she knew something I didn’t. Her hand landed on my thigh. Casual. Too casual. I glanced over, trying to play it cool, but she wasn’t even pretending anymore. Her fingers slid higher, brushing against the inside of my leg, and I felt my cock twitch in response. "You good?" she asked, her voice low, teasing. "Yeah," I muttered, adjusting my grip on the wheel. But I wasn’t. Not with her hand inching closer, not with the heat of her palm pressing into me through the denim. She didn’t stop. Her fingers traced a line up my thigh, and then—fuck—they were on my cock, feeling me through my jeans. My breath caught, and I could feel myself getting hard, fast. "You’re not even trying to hide it," she said, her smirk widening. Her hand shifted, and before I could say anything, she was undoing my zipper like it was nothing. The sound of it made my stomach tighten. "Jesus," I hissed as her fingers slipped inside, wrapping around me. She started slow, her grip firm but gentle, and I had to fight to keep my eyes on the road. Her thumb brushed over the tip, and I swore under my breath. "You like that?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with her hand moving, not with the way she was looking at me—like she was daring me to react, to say something, anything. She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she leaned over, her hair falling into her face as her lips brushed against the head of my cock. Her breath was warm, so fucking warm, and I felt my hips jerk involuntarily. "Easy," she murmured, her tongue flicking out to tease me. I groaned, my hands tightening on the wheel as she took me into her mouth, slow and deliberate. Her tongue swirled around me, and I could feel myself throbbing with every movement. "Shit," I muttered, trying to focus on the road. But it was impossible. Every time we passed under a streetlight, I caught a glimpse of her head moving, her lips wrapped around me. She wasn’t rushing. She took her time, pulling back just to lick at the tip before sinking down again, deeper this time. My heart was racing, my mind spinning. Her hand worked the base of my cock while her mouth was warm and wet, and I could feel myself losing control. My foot pressed harder on the gas without me even realizing it. I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. My hand left the wheel for a second, tangling in her hair as I pushed her down gently. She didn’t resist. Instead, she took me deeper, her throat tightening around me in a way that made me see stars. "We’re almost there," I managed to say, my voice strained. She pulled back, her lips glistening as she looked up at me. "Good," she said, her smirk returning. "Because I’m not done with you yet." Her hand moved faster, and I felt myself getting closer, the pressure building in my gut. I tried to hold back, but it was no use. With a low groan, I came, my hips jerking as pleasure shot through me. She didn’t stop, her hand working me through it until I was spent. She sat back up, wiping her lips with her thumb as she gave me that look—the one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. "Eyes on the road," she said, grinning like she’d just won something. The rest of the drive was quiet, but the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. The second we pulled into the driveway....

The streetlights blurred past, their glow cutting through the dark like dull knives. I gripped the wheel, the radio humming some soft tune I wasn’t paying attention to. My eyes flicked to her—just for a second—and that was all it took.  

She was leaned back in the passenger seat, her skirt riding up high enough to show off the curve of her thigh. Her fingers drummed lazily on the armrest, but her eyes—*those fucking eyes*—were locked on me. There was a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, like she knew something I didn’t.  

Her hand landed on my thigh. *Casual.* Too casual. I glanced over, trying to play it cool, but she wasn’t even pretending anymore. Her fingers slid higher, brushing against the inside of my leg, and I felt my cock twitch in response.  

"You good?" she asked, her voice low, teasing.  

"Yeah," I muttered, adjusting my grip on the wheel. But I wasn’t. Not with her hand inching closer, not with the heat of her palm pressing into me through the denim.  

She didn’t stop. Her fingers traced a line up my thigh, and then—*fuck*—they were on my cock, feeling me through my jeans. My breath caught, and I could feel myself getting hard, fast.  

"You’re not even trying to hide it," she said, her smirk widening. Her hand shifted, and before I could say anything, she was undoing my zipper like it was nothing. The sound of it made my stomach tighten.  

"Jesus," I hissed as her fingers slipped inside, wrapping around me. She started slow, her grip firm but gentle, and I had to fight to keep my eyes on the road. Her thumb brushed over the tip, and I swore under my breath.  

"You like that?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.  

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with her hand moving, not with the way she was looking at me—like she was daring me to react, to say something, *anything.*  

She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she leaned over, her hair falling into her face as her lips brushed against the head of my cock. Her breath was warm, *so fucking warm,* and I felt my hips jerk involuntarily.  

"Easy," she murmured, her tongue flicking out to tease me. I groaned, my hands tightening on the wheel as she took me into her mouth, slow and deliberate. Her tongue swirled around me, and I could feel myself throbbing with every movement.  

"Shit," I muttered, trying to focus on the road. But it was impossible. Every time we passed under a streetlight, I caught a glimpse of her head moving, her lips wrapped around me. She wasn’t rushing. She took her time, pulling back just to lick at the tip before sinking down again, deeper this time.  

My heart was racing, my mind spinning. Her hand worked the base of my cock while her mouth was warm and wet, and I could feel myself losing control. My foot pressed harder on the gas without me even realizing it.  

I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. My hand left the wheel for a second, tangling in her hair as I pushed her down gently. She didn’t resist. Instead, she took me deeper, her throat tightening around me in a way that made me see stars.  

"We’re almost there," I managed to say, my voice strained.  

She pulled back, her lips glistening as she looked up at me. "Good," she said, her smirk returning. "Because I’m not done with you yet."  

Her hand moved faster, and I felt myself getting closer, the pressure building in my gut. I tried to hold back, but it was no use. With a low groan, I came, my hips jerking as pleasure shot through me. She didn’t stop, her hand working me through it until I was spent.  

She sat back up, wiping her lips with her thumb as she gave me that look—the one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.  

"Eyes on the road," she said, grinning like she’d just won something.  

The rest of the drive was quiet, but the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. The second we pulled into the driveway....

A late-night drive takes a heated turn when a passenger's teasing advances lead to a dangerous, exhilarating encounter. The driver struggles to maintain control as his companion's bold moves escalate, blending the thrill of the road with the intensity of forbidden pleasure.

She sucked my dick while I kept driving

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