Blocked In Your Lap

You found the texts an hour ago. Her phone lit up on the counter while she was in the shower, and there his name was, with a string of messages that made your stomach drop. Months of them. Flirting. Planning. A whole other guy. But not sex. Never that, apparently. Just everything around it. Now you're both in your car, parked outside her place, and the engine is ticking as it cools. She's on the passenger side with her knees pulled up, scrolling through that same phone like you don't exist. "You're way too much of a coward to do anything about it anyway," she says, not even looking up. "Maybe I'll let him actually fuck me, since you're too scared to."

Your hands tighten on the steering wheel. Not to keep from hitting her — you'd never — but because you don't know what to do with all of this. Weeks of leading you on. Months of "you're the only one." She glances at you and laughs, low and mean. "Look at you. You're not even going to raise your voice."

"Give me the phone," you say quietly. "No." She holds it against her chest, and you can see the shape of her breasts pressed around it through her thin top. "Rhea. Give me the phone." Something in your voice makes her pause. Her tongue touches her lower lip. "Or what?"

You reach across the console and take her chin between your thumb and finger, turning her face to yours. Her eyes go wide — not scared. Interested. "Or nothing," you say. "You heard me. Now you're going to sit there and listen for once." Her breath comes out shaky. The phone drops to her lap, forgotten.

"Okay," she whispers. "Okay? That's it?" Her cheeks are pink. "I... yes. Okay." The girl who's been mouthing off all night folds in two words. You file that away. Something in your chest unlocks.

"Say his name," you tell her. She hesitates. "...Dylan." "How long?" "Three months." Her voice is small now. "But we never — I swear we never did anything. I stopped it every time. I swear."

"You stopped it." You study her face. "Why? If he's so much braver than me." She swallows hard, and her eyes finally come up to meet yours, honest for the first time all night. "Because he isn't. That's the whole point. He's just... loud."

"Then why him?" You're still holding her chin. "Why any of it?" She takes a breath like she's about to jump off something high. "Because you're nice to me," she says. "You're so nice. You ask. You wait. You let me pick everything. And I kept waiting for you to just — take me. Once. Just once, I wanted you to stop asking."

The car is very quiet. "I flirted with him to make you jealous. To make you mad. Mad enough to do something." Her voice cracks. "You never did. Even tonight, I said the worst things I could think of, and you just sat there." "I'm sitting here now." "You're holding my face now," she corrects, barely a whisper.

"Show me," you say. "Show me you're done with him. Right now, in front of me." She doesn't argue. She picks up the phone, pulls up his contact, and turns the screen so you can watch. Her thumb hovers over Block. She looks at you, checking, and you nod once. Block. Confirm.

"There," she says, and her voice is a little unsteady. "It's done. He's gone. It was always going to be you, I just — I wanted you to fight for me. That's so stupid, I know." "It's not stupid." You brush your thumb along her jaw. "But you're going to get what you asked for now. All of it. You understand?" "Yes," she breathes.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs over the console before you can say another word, settling into your lap, her knees on either side of your hips. The car is dark except for the streetlight, and her blonde hair falls around both your faces like a curtain. "Hi," she says softly, a small smile tugging at her mouth. "Hi."

"I've never seen you like this." "Like what?" "Like you're not going to be nice." She shifts her weight, and her breath catches. "I like it. I've liked it since you grabbed my chin." "Then you're going to love what comes next."

You slide a hand into her hair and pull — gently, but firmly enough that her head tips back and her throat is bare to you. She lets out a soft, surprised moan. "Oh my god," she whispers. "You don't giggle at his texts anymore," you say against her neck. "You don't hide your phone. You don't talk to me the way you talked tonight. Are we clear?" "Yes. Yes, I'm sorry —" "Don't be sorry." You kiss her throat, slow. "Be better." She's trembling now, her hands gripping your shoulders. "I will. I promise. I promise."

You kiss her, and it's nothing like the kisses she's used to from you. You take it. Her mouth opens under yours with a whimper, and she melts down against you, her full chest pressing into yours. When you break the kiss she chases your lips, greedy.

"Please," she says. "Please what? Tell me exactly." Her face flushes crimson in the dark. "I want you to touch me. I've wanted it for months. I'd lie in bed after our dates touching myself and thinking about you just — taking me instead of dropping me off." "You never said." "I wanted you to know without me saying." She laughs, breathless and embarrassed. "I'm an idiot." "You're my idiot. Now take this off." You pluck at her top.

She sits up as much as the car allows and pulls her top over her head in one motion. No bra. Her huge, perfect breasts spill free, heavy and pale in the dim light, her pink nipples already hard. "Jesus, Rhea." "They've been yours the whole time," she says, cupping them for you, offering them. "Every night I thought about you while he texted me, I was thinking about these in your hands." You don't make her wait. You take one breast in each hand, kneading, and she gasps, arching into your palms. When you roll her nipples between your fingers she moans out loud, no shame, loud enough that you're glad the windows are tinted.

"Sensitive?" you ask, tugging gently. "Very. Oh — fuck." Her hips are grinding against you now, restless. "I used to get wet just from you hugging me goodnight. I'd go inside and get myself off with the door still locked behind me." You lean down and take one nipple into your mouth, sucking hard, and she cries out, her fingers plunging into your hair to hold you there. "Yes — just like that — don't be gentle with me, please, I don't want gentle —" You bite down softly and she bucks against your lap, gasping.

You reach between her legs and find her jeans soaked through. She whimpers at your touch through the denim. "Please. Please, I've been wet since you said 'give me the phone.'" She fumbles her button open, shoves her jeans and panties down her thighs as far as the seat allows, desperate. "Touch me. He never got to touch me. No one but you, I swear." You slide your hand up her bare thigh and find her pussy dripping, hot and swollen. When your fingers part her and press against her clit she moans your name, genuinely, like she's been holding it in for months. "Say it again," you tell her, circling her clit slowly. "I love you — I love you, only you, fuck, your fingers feel so good —"

You work two fingers inside her while your thumb keeps circling, and she rides your hand shamelessly, tits bouncing, braced on the ceiling of the car. "Don't stop — don't stop — I'm going to —" "Look at me when you come." Her eyes snap open and lock on yours, and that does it. She comes apart in your lap, shaking, gasping your name, drenching your hand. It goes on and on, longer than you expected, and when it finally ebbs she collapses against your chest, panting. "Holy shit," she whispers. "I've never come that fast in my life." "I'm not done with you."

"I really hope not," she says, and reaches down between your bodies to undo your belt with shaking hands. She frees your cock and wraps her fingers around it, stroking once, twice, staring at it like it's Christmas. "God, I knew it. I knew you'd feel like this." She lifts her hips, positions you at her entrance, and looks at you — really looks, the way she should have all along. "I'm yours," she says. "Take me."

You grip her hips and pull her down onto you in one slow, deep motion. She takes all of you, gasping, her head thrown back, her breasts right in your face. "Oh my god — you're so deep —" She braces herself on your shoulders and starts to move, rising and falling, getting louder with every stroke. "This is what I wanted — every time I texted him, this is what I actually wanted — you, inside me, not asking —" "Whose pussy is this?" you growl, thrusting up to meet her. "Yours! Fuck — yours, only yours, forever —"

The car rocks. Her tits bounce with every thrust and she's not holding back at all, moaning and babbling, telling you everything. "I'm sorry — I'm so sorry — I'll never — just don't stop fucking me, please —" "Come again for me," you tell her, and you feel her whole body tighten. She comes with a broken cry, her pussy clamping down on your cock, and you can't hold on either. You bury yourself to the hilt and come inside her while she shakes above you, gasping into your neck, both of you breathing hard in the dark car.

For a while, neither of you moves. She stays in your lap, your cock still inside her, her forehead resting against yours. "Hey," she says eventually, smiling, dazed. "Hey." "So that's what you're like when you stop being nice." She laughs softly. "I've been missing that for a year." "You could have just asked." "Where's the fun in that?" She kisses you, sweet now, lazy. "I'm going to text my sister and tell her I'm staying at your place tonight. And tomorrow. And basically forever."

You both laugh as she climbs off you and hunts the footwell for her clothes, gorgeous and disheveled and completely yours. She pulls her top back on inside-out and doesn't notice, and you don't tell her, because it's the funniest and cutest thing you've ever seen. She catches you staring. "What?" "Nothing. Just glad I looked at your phone." She climbs back over and kisses your cheek. "Best decision you ever made. Second best is what you did after."

You drive her home — your home, now, apparently — with her hand on your thigh the whole way and her head on your shoulder at every red light. At the door she stops, turns, and looks up at you with those eyes that got you into this whole mess. "For the record," she says, "I did love you the entire time. Even when I was being the worst. Maybe especially then, because you never once treated me badly back." "You made it hard." "Mm." She pulls you inside by your shirt. "I'll make it up to you. All night. I'm very motivated now that I know what I was missing."