High Speed Lover Ch. 01

"Is it just the car, love?" It came out deep and breathy. My silence answered his question. I was overcome by him, his wavy, sandy brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. His lips were delicious looking, plump but not overly so. I found myself sinking lower in the seat, my legs spreading. He had a strong jaw, covered with a sexy five-o'clock shadow. My gaze traveled down his neck, his shoulders were broad, his arms toned, his chest strong. I found myself wondering what he was hiding under his shirt, and - peering down at his white belt - what exactly it was protecting. I was sufficiently moist now, which was unusual for me, just looking at someone. I just hoped to god that it didn't soak through my pants. My breathing must have gotten noticeably heavy, because he reached his shifting hand over and placed it on my thigh, gently squeezing it before returning to his shifting.

"How . . . how far is it?" I asked, almost in a whisper.

"About five more minutes, love." There it was again, love, it sounded so nice. My mind was foggy at this point, and I wasn't making clear decisions, but it didn't seem to matter. I reached over and put my hand on his leg, watching for his reaction. He didn't respond negatively, so I figured that it was acceptable. I slid my hand along his thigh, my fingers gently following the seam along the inside of his jeans. I gently brushed against the bulge in his pants, which jumped slightly in response. I moaned softly, and his eyelids fluttered. I wanted him so bad, and I was going to have what I wanted. I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned over the center console. He instinctively reached his shifting arm up and over my back, so my head was in his lap but he could still shift.

"Careful, love, you don't know what you're getting into." I gently bit the bulge through his jeans, and he let out a deep breath. "Or, maybe you do." He leaned back into the seat; I felt his legs alternating from the clutch to the gas and brakes as we drove. I gently moved his seatbelt, and un-buckled his belt. His breathing was getting heavier as I un-buttoned his fly. He was wearing boxers underneath; I reached through the opening in the front and wrapped my hand around his shaft. He let out a little grunt at the feel of my hand. His cock was quite a bit bigger than what I was used to, but I wanted him so bad it didn't matter. I pulled him through the opening, exposing most of his shaft and the tip. His head was pronounced, the ridge at the bottom was well defined, just the way I like it. I planted a kiss on the tip, just a peck, and squeezed a little harder with my hand. His grunt made it apparent that he liked what I was doing. I licked my lips and slid them slowly over the head of his cock, letting them pop over the ridge. I moaned as I felt it push through my lips. The skin was smooth and warm and he smelled good, too. I ran my tongue along the underside as I pushed my face further down. It felt so good I thought I was going to cum. "Fuck, Kida, you have to stop." I murmured an 'mmmmmmm' in response but kept going. "Seriously, love, we're almost there and I'd rather not crash a block from my flat." Reluctantly I pulled his cock from my mouth, planting a small kiss on the tip. I slithered back over to my seat and sat up. He just kind of shifted around in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with his massive hard-on.

"I could've just taken care of it, you know." I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"God only knows that that's what I was hoping for, but I'd rather not walk into my apartment this aroused. My flat mate might not appreciate it as much as you seem to. It also wouldn't be too smart of an idea to explode at a hundred fifteen miles an hour. Adrenaline AND an orgasm? I'd blow the back of your head off."

"You'd stain your interior."

"I know. That worries me." We both laughed as we pulled up to what looked like an old warehouse. "This is it."

"Fuck. That's cool. I've always thought about converting an old warehouse."

"Yeah, Jackson and I decided to live here a few years back. He's into tuners and I'm into muscle, bikes, and exotics. The exorbitant amount of garage space made it a good investment." My eyes got wide as I turned to him.

"You mean this isn't your only car?" He just smiled. A few seconds later my question was answered. Jesus. H. Tap-dancing. Christ. (I'm sorry Lord, for the blasphemy, but it was quite moving.) "Aston Martin, Lotus, Lamborghini, Ferrari, Bentley, another Camaro . . . are you, like, a billionaire?" Again, he smiled.

"I win a lot of races. I'm impressed that you named all the big ones, you wouldn't happen to be able to name the models, too?" He leaned back in the seat.

"DBS, Exige, Gallardo Superleggera, F430 Scuderia, Continental GT . . . and is that a 1969?" He was just kind of staring at me at this point. He nodded. "I don't know anything about bikes though. I like that one, what is it?"

"Ducati. The 1198s. Makes me feel better that you don't know bikes. I was worried we wouldn't have anything to talk about."

"No. You were worried that you wouldn't be able to teach me anything to impress me."

"Okay, it was a little that. Not a whole lot, but a little."

"It's okay, I was kind of hoping we weren't going to be doing a whole lot of talking anyway."

"At least not tonight." He winked. We got out of the car and he opened the door for me, motioning inside. So he's a gentleman, too. This is too good to be true. "Hey Jackson, this is Kida." He said as we entered. Jackson was about my height, brown hair, scrawny and lanky. He was wearing typical skating garb, Etnies, straight cut jeans, and a T-shirt with a dinosaur on it -- a far cry from Brighton's Esquire like wardrobe of Armani and Burberry. He was sitting on a black leather couch with his feet up on the coffee table, playing what I could only assume was Forza from the sound.

"Hi." He said, not looking up from his game.

"Hey. What're you driving?" I asked, motioning to the screen. I couldn't see it from the angle I was at.

"Nissan Skyline R34."

"Good choice, I assume that you lightened it up, flashed the ECU, timed the turbos right, and you're running direct port Nitrous, not a dry fogger kit?" That got his attention.

"What the fuck, Brighton?" He nearly dropped the controller.

"Met her at the race, told you that you should've ran your skyline, don't want to hear it, she crossed the finish line with me, I won four grand, we're going upstairs, don't bother us. By the way, if the guy with the Supra calls again, I don't want to hear it. By the bottle is still fair game on the street. Its not like I needed it, though." Jackson was just kind of wide eyed.

"Fuck you, dude. You never need that shit. You just like humiliating everyone with a view of your tail lights."

"Its not my fault you drive a rice rocket, but seriously, no interruptions. Oh, and if we get loud, I don't care what you want."

"Again, with the fucking, and the you."

"Yeah, that's what I was getting at." He reached over and took my hand. Jackson gave him a sarcastic smile and became engrossed in the game again. Brighton gently led me through their kitchen, which was surprisingly clean for a bachelor pad. It had a full bar, which I felt was going to be used at some point during the course of this relationship. He led me up a flight of wrought iron stairs; spiral, naturally, and down a dimly lit hallway. "This is my room." He said, pushing the door open. It was decorated very modern, neutrals with an accent of red. All the furniture was made of stainless and glass. There was one window, overlooking the city skyline, which had red curtains. He took my jacket, tossing it onto a chair in the corner. He led me over to the bed, spinning me gently with my arm raised over my head, and sat me down.

"This, um, this is wonderful." I was beginning to feel un-easy. He sat down next to me.

"What's wrong?" He asked, brushing a hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.

"I'm just being silly." I dismissed the question.

"Its not silly if it's really the way you feel. You can talk to me, it's okay." I looked over at him, picking my hands nervously.

"It's just that I really don't want this to be a one-night stand. You're . . . well, you're just . . . wonderful and I don't find a whole lot of guys that are like that. I don't find any guys like that, actually. It's weird, because I know we just met, but I feel this really deep connection with you, and I just don't want to lose it." I sighed. Here it comes, the 'it's okay, I like you too' speech that means he thinks I'm a basket case and the 'we don't have to have sex if you don't want to' line that means he's never going to call me. He leaned over and kissed me, hard on the mouth. Or not. I felt my nervousness melt into the mattress as his hand reached up, his fingers meshing through my hair.

"I think you're amazing, and I wouldn't dream of letting this be a one-night stand. I can't let a girl like you out of my sight, I wouldn't ever be satisfied with anyone ever again." My eyes were wide.

"Really? You think I'm amazing?"

"You're funny. You're sexy. You've got an amazing body - don't think I haven't noticed. We have a lot in common. You're not high-maintenance like most of the girls in this city. You've got an awesome personality. I . . . all night I've just been thinking that you're a figment of my imagination, that there's no way that this could be real. When you got in that car, Kida, my life started again." It was my turn to kiss him. I grabbed his head, a hand on either side of his face, and pressed my lips into his. I felt my soul pouring out of my body and into him. He kissed back, gently rubbing my back.

"Thank you." I said.

"For what?" He asked, looking confused.

"Being you." I answered, smiling. I kissed him again, gentler this time. His lips were so soft. I slipped the very tip of my tongue through my lips and ran it along the soft crease. He parted them slightly and I pushed my tongue through them, meeting with his. Softly, our tongues danced with each other, intertwined. He tasted so good. Slowly, I lifted a leg, balancing on my knee, and swung it past his body to straddle him. He placed his arms gently on my hips, wrapping his hands around my ribs. Gently, he squeezed my torso, making me push harder against him as we kissed.

We kissed for what seemed like an eternity before he finally slid his hands up under my shirt. My skin tingled as I felt his palms smooth up the flat middle of my tummy, over my belly button. He slid his hands away from each other, over my ribs and around to my back, sliding a single finger under my bra. I thought he would unhook it, but he didn't. He slid back around, up over my eager breasts, begging to be uncovered, and over my shoulders. He lifted the shirt up over my head; we broke from our kissing for a moment to get it off. He then slid the straps gently off my shoulders, leaving the bra hooked. He grasped both breasts in his hands, the fleshy mounds squishing between his fingers. My tits weren't huge, I affectionately referred to them as 'heaping handfuls.' but he seemed to be enjoying them. My nipples were hard through the bra, and he grazed them gently, causing me to gasp.

"Mmmmmm, I like your tits." He let out in a low throaty growl. He slid a finger under the edge of each cup, flicking my nipples before sliding it down around my ribs. He slid his hands up, catching them and pinching my now fully erect nipples. I let my head fall back as he pushed them together, nuzzling my cleavage gently. My hips were gyrating against him now. I could feel his warm breath so close to my body as he ran his lips along the tiny bumps. He flicked his tongue over one, sending electricity down my spine that rooted between my legs. He rolled a nipple between his fingers as he lapped at the other with his tongue.

"Uh . . . uhmmmmm . . . ooooooooooh." I moaned finally, grinding hard against his hips. He rolled me off of him, laying me on my back. His sheets were soft and warm. He un-tied my Chucks and threw them on the floor, sliding my socks off and gently kissing the tops of my feet. He kissed my belly as he un-buttoned my jeans, sliding them off, revealing my panties. I'm so glad I wore a matching set today.

"Mmmm, blue. Good choice, love." He growled, lowering his face between my thighs. He planted soft kisses along the insides of my thighs, gently parting my legs and kneeling between them. He lifted my legs over his shoulders, sliding his hands down to squeeze my ass. He squeezed it for a few moments, gently separating my cheeks. He was teasing me. He slid a finger along the seam of my panties, pushing them aside. I could feel the wet cotton against my leg; my smooth mound now inches from his face. He ran a finger down the length of my now sopping cunt; lingering at the entrance for a moment, before sliding it back up. He looked up at me, from between my legs, his sexy smoldering eyes making me drip even more. "What do you want, love?"

"Mmmmmm, I want your fingers, please." It's a barely audible, desperate whisper. I squeezed my own tits, rolling my nipples and arching my back as he slid a finger slowly inside me. I could feel it entering, inch-by-inch, my pussy clenching around it. He wiggled it, tickling the bump on the front wall, my g-spot. "Oooooooooooh, fuck, Brighton."

"You like that?" He groaned up at me.

"Mmmmmmm yeah, finger that pussy baby." I moaned back. He continued, alternating between caressing my g-spot and pumping quickly in and out of me. I knew my clitoris was completely engorged now, begging to be stimulated. As if he read my mind, he reached his thumb up, rubbing the small nub in a gentle, circular motion. "Huuuuuuuhhhhhh, oh fuck." My hips were gyrating, pushing my dripping slit hard against his hand. "I want your tongue, Brighton, I want you to taste that pussy." The words oozed out of my throat, half moan, and half sentence.

"I thought you'd never ask." He mused. While still pumping his finger in and out of me, he slid his tongue along my outer lips. He gently parted them with his other hand, exposing my clitoris. Ever so slowly he flicked his stiffened tongue over the sensitive nub. I reached a hand down, running my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, pushing my body against his face. He withdrew his finger, sliding both hands down to grab my ass. His tongue replaced his finger, re-filling my eager hole. His nose rubbed against my clitoris as he gently fucked me with his tongue. I felt myself getting close, the warmth growing in my abdomen, the tingling feeling. It oozed downward, flowing through my hips and finally down to the delightfully dripping pink-flesh pit. He pushed his face into me harder, voraciously lapping up my juices as I exploded, his name erupting from my lungs and echoing through my mouth. He drank hungrily until my body shuddered and collapsed. "How was that, love?" He asked, peering up at me.

to be continued . . .