Darcy shook his head and pressed her legs together. Jane gasped, all of a sudden her cheeks burning with shame. She felt her anger mounting again, and he read it in her eyes. “No,” he said, “You misunderstand. Come.” He reached over and worked the door, stepping out onto the abandoned road. He held a hand out to her. “Come,” he said again. Jane didn’t know what was happening to her — she was always the one in charge, and now here she was passively doing as she was told. She put out her hand and when Darcy touched her fingertips, it was like an electric current was racing up her arm. She shivered and slid across the seat, her skirt riding even further up her thigh, exposing the cheek of her buttock, but she didn’t care.
She put her long legs out and stepped on to the uneven roadway, wobbling a little as she stood up. Darcy caught her in his strong arms, holding her against him, his thigh sliding between her legs. She could feel the heat of him, her wetness making a damp mark on his slacks. She looked up into his face, and Darcy slid his hand up under her blouse, his palm brushing over her breast, her hard nipple poking her bra. The friction of his palm and the cloth on the tender button made her quiver. She looked up and down the roadway. “Someone will see us,” she said, her voice raspy.
“Not on this road,” Darcy said. “Only the cottage owners use this road, and since it’s off season-“ he stopped in mid sentence, his mouth crushing hers. His hot tongue slid between her lips, moving slowly in and out and making her imagine his cock, sliding in and out of her mouth just like his tongue. She moaned, wanting that, wanting to taste him, to have his earthy, woody-smelling skin next to hers, she wanted to breathe him in, devour him. She slid her hands down his hard body to the buckle of his belt, her mouth still on his, kissing, kissing.
Suddenly, his hands were on hers, removing them. Her mouth came away from his in protest. “Why are you stopping me!” she cried, and attempted to undo his slacks again, but he was strong, his hands clamped around her wrists. He pinned her to the car, his mouth going to her neck, causing her another shiver that shot through her body and straight to the core of her, lighting her pussy on fire. “No,” he said, “I have other plans for you. “
“But I want-“ she started.
“Please,” he said in a tender way that stopped her. “Let someone else be in charge for once.”
“What do you mean?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Darcy looked in her eyes. “I saw you there, in the back seat,” he said. “Making and taking calls, making deals, arguing with your staff.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder, his thumb caressing the skin just above her breast. She wanted that thumb on her breast, stroking, stroking her nipple, but he didn’t move from that spot. She bit her bottom lip. He looked up then, around him. The warm breeze stirred the trees, making them sigh. “You didn’t even take one moment to enjoy the beautiful scenery around you.”
“I have a very important position,” she said defensively. “I don’t have time for-“
“This-“ he said, interrupting her, sliding his hand up under her skirt. His fingers snaked into her wet panties, brushing through the tangled mass of springy hair, soft like the moss at the base of the trees here, in the woods that lined the road. Jane’s knees felt weak with his touch, but he wrapped one strong arm behind her and while the length of his index finger worked between the slit of her hot, wanting lips, opening beneath his fingers like the petals of a flower.
There was a thin silver ring on his index finger, old and smoothly worn, but the ridge of that ring caused a pleasing sensation as it glided over her clitoris, which had raised its head up like the head of a tiny mushroom and strained toward his finger. Every time the ring bumped over the silky, little head, a wave of heat washed through Jane, and her honey began to run out onto Darcy’s fingers as they slid with an aching slowness up and down between those hot, wet vulva lips.
The tip of his finger teased in slow circles at the opening of her vagina, which contracted and contracted as if wanting to suck him in, and she moaned and begged him, “Please, inside me, please!” her breath coming hot and ragged, her head thrown back exposing her white, soft neck.
He bent his head and put his tongue in the hollow of her neck, and licked in a circular motion, feeling the vibration of her moans, her breath on the hot tip of his tongue. Jane moved her hips frantically against his hand, wanting to force his fingers deep inside her, wanting to feel him deep inside, at the core of her, but again he pulled away, taking away her control. Jane grimaced, growling in frustration, her tiny fists raining down on his shoulders. He picked her up then, in one fell swoop, and she continued to hit him, but he carried her as if he was not feeling a thing, and deposited her on the hood of the car.
He pushed gently on her shoulders and she fell back. His hands were on her silk panties and he slid them easily down her long, long legs. They fell into the dirt, and he slowly slid his hands up and up her legs, wrapping around the backs of her calves, behind her knees, sliding around to the inside of the knees, her thighs. She could feel the warm hood of the car, the metal smooth and hot beneath her bare ass, her bare pussy, touching the heat of the metal feeling wonderful and burning at the same time. She could feel her juice running out onto the hood of the car, making it slick beneath her.
The car was a slate grey Chrysler Sebring, and the hood had a raised center ridge. Jane was positioned on the hood so that the ridge, warm from the sun, rested in the cleft between her buttocks — and her labia. She could feel the hard ridge pushing up into her moist slit and she sighed and moved her hips gently, her wetness making the hot metal slick. She moved back and forth, letting the ridge glide between her pussy lips and bump against her clitoris. Darcy put his hot hands on her bare hips and let her pleasure herself — for a moment.
He reached around behind her and unzipped her skirt, and Jane leaned back and let him slide it down her legs. He unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked her bra and slid it off her. She arched her back, her pink nipples poking up toward the blue sky. Darcy leaned over her and brushed his tongue over each one, then stood, exposing her to the breeze which felt degrees colder on the wet peaks, causing them to contract and become harder, more erect.
She felt as if they were straining toward him, and she arched again, begging him wordlessly for his mouth. He responded, bending and licking the buds gently, then becoming more rough, his teeth teasing them, and they rose higher, became red, swollen, all of her swollen, her labia, her clit, her nipples straining up toward him.
But still he was controlled, moving slowly, at his own pace, ignoring her moans, her pleading, her tight words. He stood, gazing down at her, her skin white and hot under the sun, her nipples so dark they were nearly lavender with wanting, and her sex, it was deep rose, the clit poking up like a little cock from between the lips of her pussy, pushing toward him.
Jane ached with wanting. How could he ignore her words, her pleading, her commands? His eyes on her skin felt hot, like a searchlight, scorching her, melting her, his hands were gentle and frantic and painful and lovely all at once. She felt as if all her being were on fire at once, her skin, her mouth, her eyes, her pussy, on fire with wanting.
He pulled her up then, and positioned her hands on his shoulders. He stood between her legs and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. He did not speak, but slid his hands down her back, slowly, staring, finally resting them on her hips. He took over for her, then, using his hands like pistons, sliding her back and forth, riding the ridge of the hood, gliding on her juices, increasing speed, then slowing, increasing, slowing until Jane thought she would go mad.
Just when she thought she could not bear another second, he stopped abruptly, pushed her back and sank his mouth on her swollen, pulsing cunt, running his tongue up the slit, now hot from the metal hood of the car, from her longing, from her dripping honey.