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Heat. No, not heat — fire. It poured into my lower belly, rising, spreading across my back, my chest. Everything felt sticky, tight, too much. The shirt instantly became unbearable, rubbing against my skin, irritating me, especially around the nipples, which were suddenly insanely sensitive. The jeans felt way too tight, so tight I wanted to tear them off right then and there. I shifted in my seat and instantly felt it — it had started.
— Fuck... — slipped out in a whisper before I could clamp a hand over my mouth.
Emily was already staring at me, leaning over from the driver’s seat. Her eyes narrowed, and her face twisted a little.
— You again... This is the third time in a row, Martin, — Emily hissed, reaching for the keys and immediately clicking the lock. — You're not going anywhere. This time, we’re sticking to the plan. Got it?
Pissing me off. Why the hell is she talking like that? Like it’s my damn fault that when this hits, my brain just shuts down and I need... need someone to fuck me — hard enough to forget how to move, how to breathe, how to speak.
I turned away, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. It didn’t help. The heat kept crawling through my body, filling it up, wrapping around my thighs, and between them — something had already started pulsing, unbearable. Dense. Demanding. I tried to fight it off, squeezing my eyes shut and starting to count. Just count. To a hundred. Hold it together. One. Two. Three. Four…
— Fiv… fii… fu—dick! — I gasped through clenched teeth and then slapped a hand over my mouth in shock. I couldn’t focus on anything. The thought hit hard and clear:...