Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [71]
But she obviously didn’t want to hear that. Reaching for his waistband, she began to slowly unbutton the fly of the old-fashioned trousers. “Mmm, easy access. I don’t have to worry about catching anything on a zipper.”
“Lottie…” he said, shaking his head, not sure whether he really had the strength to resist if she persisted.
She persisted. Slowly tugging the dress shirt up and out of the way, she worked her hand into the opening of his briefs and encircled his cock. “I really like what you can do with this thing.”
Choking out a desperate laugh, he said, “I really like it, too, sweetheart, but I don’t particularly want to drive off the side of a mountain and be found with my dick hanging out of my pants.”
Laughing softly she continued touching, up and down, squeezing and stroking him to full, throbbing arousal. She soon had him almost shaking, and almost flooring the gas so they could get back to the house and have safe, wild sex—in the car if necessary.
When she lowered her head and replaced her hand with her mouth, he muttered a soft curse and clenched his hands around the steering wheel.
“Keep your eyes on the road, sweetheart,” she whispered, her lips brushing the head of his cock. Her tongue flicked out, wetting him, then she sucked him into her mouth.
He leaned back as far as he could in the seat, keeping his eyes on the road even though his mind was anywhere else. Lottie’s warm, wet mouth was like heaven and for a few moments he just gave himself over to sensation.
Though he knew he should keep both hands on the wheel, he couldn’t resist dropping one hand to her head, twining his fingers in that thick hair. She moved, up and down, taking as much of him as she could, then releasing him to press light kisses on the tip of his shaft, only to plunge down again.
Simon thought he would go out of his mind with the anticipation—and the sheer physical pleasure of it.
Seeing the sign for the parking lot entrance, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks. Both that they’d made it up the mountain alive and intact, and that within sixty seconds or so, he was going to be plunging into Lottie’s tight, wet body and finishing this right where he wanted to.
But as he pulled into the private driveway that led to the garage in the back of the house, something caught his attention. He would have sworn that absolutely nothing could distract him from what Lottie was making him feel. However the scene before his eyes was so startling, he sat upright and hit the brake. Hard.
Lottie must have thought he was stopping for another reason because she sucked harder, pumped faster. Cupping his balls in her hand, she carefully squeezed, as if wanting him to shoot off in her mouth.
He might have. If he weren’t so certain he’d finally lost his mind. And not just out of pleasure.
Because a few dozen yards away, near the spot where the wagon had gone over the cliffs, stood a woman. Her hair was blond—falling over her shoulders. A strange light was coming out from behind the large boulder where he and Lottie had taken refuge a few days ago during the carriage incident.
The light illuminated the figure and even though she was far away, he could make out the short red skirt she wore. And the white top. Only, it wasn’t completely white. Under the mysterious, glowing light, he could see splotches of red. Like paint splattered on a drop cloth.
“Or blood,” he whispered. Blood splashing onto a white blouse. “No. It can’t be.”
Lottie, still down below the dashboard, mumbled something that sounded like, “Don’t stop me.”
Looking down, he realized he was still hard, she was still blowing him, but he felt almost removed from the situation. He was in a daze, shocked by what he had seen.
A blonde in a bloody blouse and a red skirt.
It can’t be.
The impact finally hit him and he felt like someone coming out of unconsciousness. His body caught up with what his eyes had seen. Though Lottie had made him feel incredible, his body was no longer in control. His mind was.
She obviously noticed. She looked up, confusion on her face.