Chapter 32: The Cab Ride Home
The taxi’s door clicked shut, sealing them in a capsule of muted city noise and stale leather. The driver, partitioned behind smudged glass, muttered an address into his headset.Ryan gave her brownstone’s cross streets, his voice tight.
Before the car even pulled from the curb, Channah moved. She turned on the slick vinyl seat, swung a leg over his thighs, and settled onto his lap, her knees framing his hips. The weight of her, the familiar warmth, punched a low groan from his chest. Neon light from a passing bodega streaked across her face, highlighting the smeared, defiant set of her mouth.
Her skirt, already rucked up from the restaurant, pooled around her waist. She rocked against him, a slow, deliberate grind.The hard ridge of his erection strained against his jeans and the damp silk of her panties. The friction was maddening, a blunt promise.
“I can still taste you,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear.“In my throat. On my face.”
His hands gripped her hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh above her stockings. “Channah.”
She shifted, her hand snaking between their bodies.The zzip of his fly was loud in the confined space. She freed his cock, hot and thick in her hand. She guided him, notching the head against her. She was soaking, her slickness from the restaurant mixing with a fresh, eager heat.She didn’t tease. She sank down onto him in one slow, engulfing slide, until he was buried to the root inside her cunt.
A sharp, full breath escaped them both.Her head fell back, a strand of red hair sticking to her damp neck.
For a moment, she didn’t move.Just held him inside, her inner muscles fluttering around the invasion. The taxi hit a pothole, jolting them together, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.Then she began to ride him. Not with frantic hunger, but with a deep, rolling rhythm that spoke of decades of pent-up need. Each rise and fall was a measured claim.She watched his face, her eyes dark in the intermittent shadows. The city slid by the windows, a irrelevant stream of light and motion.
He thrust up to meet her, each upward drive hitting a spot that made her vision blur. She clamped a hand over her own mouth, stifling a moan as he filled her perfectly, completely. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies meeting.
“I can feel you,” he gritted out, his hands roaming up her back, pulling her closer.“So deep. God, you’re so fucking deep.”
She removed her hand from her mouth and covered his with it instead, sealing their lips together.The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth and shared breath. She fucked him through it, her pace incrementally quickening, driven by the coil of heat tightening low in her belly.She could feel the telltale throb begin in him, the impending rush. Just as his hips began to stutter, she pulled off him, the sudden emptiness a shock of cold air.
Without a word, she slid from his lap, her knees hitting the gritty floor mats of the taxi.She pushed his legs apart and took him back into her hand, his cock slick with her. She looked up at him, her cheek leaning against his inner thigh, and then took him into her mouth.She didn’t start slow. She took him deep, her throat opening to accept him until her nose pressed into the coarse hair at his base. She held him there, suppressing her gag reflex, then pulled back with a filthy, wet sound. Her tongue circled the head, lapping at the mixed taste of their bodies, before she plunged down again.
“Fuck, Channah,” he choked out, his hand tangling in her hair, not guiding, just holding on.
She worked him with a brutal, focused rhythm. One hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, the other braced against his thigh. Her mouth was a slick, hot vise, her throat muscles fluttering around him each time she took him deep. She moaned around him, the vibration drawing a shattered curse from his lips.His thrusts into her mouth became urgent, shallow. His breath hitched.“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—"
She pressed deeper, swallowing around him, her eyes streaming.She wanted all of it.
With a broken groan that seemed torn from his chest, he came. The first pulse hit the back of her throat, hot and bitter. She swallowed instinctively, taking the next, and the next, milking him with tight sucks until he was empty and shaking. She kept her mouth on him, soft now, until he softened, her tongue cleaning him gently.The taxi slowed, pulling to the curb.
She pulled back, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She looked up at him, his head lolled against the seat back, his chest heaving. She climbed back onto the seat beside him, her legs trembling.She smoothed her skirt down as the car came to a full stop.
“We’re here,” the driver announced, tone bored.
Ryan fumbled bills from his wallet and shoved them through the partition.He opened the door, the overhead light harsh after the dark. They stumbled out onto the sidewalk in front of her brownstone.The night air was cool on her flushed skin. He stood facing her, disheveled, undone. She reached out and wiped a final trace of wetness from the corner of his mouth with her thumb.
“Your place or mine?” he asked, his voice hoarse.She took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. His grip was firm, anchoring.She led him up the stone steps, her key clicking in the lock. As the heavy door swung open into the dark quiet of her hallway, the distance of years, of the restaurant, of the taxi, fell away completely. What remained was the simple, terrifying proximity of a closed door behind them, and the vast, uncharted territory of a night that had only just begun.