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My cock throbs painfully against my zipper, and I can barely focus on the road anymore. I take my hand away from her and grip the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to keep from fucking her in full view of oncoming traffic.
“Pull your shorts down.”
She complies without hesitation, and the sight of her pink, wet pussy is enough to make me nearly black out. Her skin is flushed, and her clit swells and peeks at me, begging to be touched. Her inner lips are slightly open, and I can see creamy liquid leaking out of her onto my leather seats.
I remove my hand from the steering wheel and reach over to tap my finger lightly against the sensitive bud. She moans loudly and bucks against my hand. I’m torn between never wanting this moment to end and to hear her cry out my name as she paints my seats white while she orgasms.
“I need to feel you.”
I let out a guttural groan when I slide my finger through her wetness. I tease her by lightly dragging my fingers between her lips, rubbing her moisture all over her throbbing cunt.
I circle her clit with my finger once, twice, three times. She whimpers, and I begin a rhythm of circles and apply more pressure. With every pass of my finger, I feel her body tremble, and I know she’s getting closer and closer to orgasm.
I increase my speed, and as soon as I feel her clit contract in response, I stop touching her. She’s a sight to behold as she cries out in protest.
“No, please no. Don’t stop. I was so close.”
With heavy-lidded eyes and a flushed face, she looks up at me. I could stare at her like this for hours. All shyness abandoned, her legs spread wide for me to see.
“I’m not ready for you to come yet,” I warn her.
She narrows her gave and pouts up at me. The frustration is clear all over her face, but I’m not done teasing her yet. I want to draw out her pleasure for as long as I can. The end result will be mind blowing, and I can’t wait to see it.
I slide my hand back down to her cunt and caress her again, taking my time exploring every crevice until she’s panting and writhing against the seat. Her G-spot, ridged and engorged, stands out, and I circle it with my finger. She’s trembling now, and I know she’s close. I can feel the heat radiating off her body as she begs me to take her over the edge.
“Please, Andreas. Right there.”
Instead of giving in, I stop again.
“We’re here,” I announce as we pull into her apartment complex.
“No! You’re kidding me. Don’t stop. Please,” she pleads.
I put the car in park and say, “If you’re a good girl, I’ll finish what I started later. Until then, don’t you dare touch yourself. Now, get dressed so we can grab the small boxes the movers left.”
Her mouth gapes open, and she stares at me in confusion. Still, she pulls her panties and shorts up and gets out of the car. I follow behind her as she leads the way up the stairs to her apartment, neither of us saying a word. I’d kill to know what she’s thinking right now.
She opens the front door, and we walk into a mostly empty apartment. The movers grabbed all of her furniture, and all they left were two boxes of clothes and shoes, and two boxes of toiletries. I stack the boxes on top of each other and get ready to carry them down to her car.
“Do a walk-through to make sure there isn’t anything else in the apartment. I’ll carry these downstairs and put them in your car. Where are your keys?” I ask.
Still mad at me for the orgasm denial, she fishes her keys from her back pocket and dangles them silently in front of my face. Because my hands are full, I reach forward and grab them with my teeth, biting her finger in the process.
She yelps and jumps back, causing me to laugh loudly. I turn and leave her alone, carefully walking down the steps, through the foyer, and outside. Once I load up her belongings, I walk back upstairs to see if there’s anything else she needs. When I walk through the front door, she’s staring at a spot on the wall, transfixed.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, because her face is mixed with disbelief and horror.
She slowly turns her head toward me and points to the spot she’s looking at.
“It’s a camera.”
My heart drops into my stomach, and I rush over to see what she’s pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small black camera installed on the wall behind where her bookshelf was. The lens of the camera would’ve been impossible to see before the apartment was emptied.
She trembles and covers her mouth with both hands in shock.
“How did this get here? Who put this here?” she asks, still in disbelief.
We spend the next few minutes inspecting the area to see if there are any others in the apartment.
