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I sat in my car with the heater on, a box of tissues from the glovebox and absolutely no plan. I just knew I wasn’t leaving.
At ten past two the fire door banged open and Scarlett came out in a long coat and trainers, bag over her shoulder. She spotted my car straight away.
She knocked on the window. I wound it down.
“You’ve been out here two hours,” she said.
“I never asked your name.”
She stared at me. Then she laughed so hard she had to lean on the roof. “That’s why? Oh my God.” She opened the back door and climbed in. “Get in here.”
I got in the back with her. She pulled the door shut and shrugged the coat off her shoulders, and she was still in the black lace underneath.
“Bryony,” she said, climbing onto my lap. “And you owe me a proper one. No jeans this time.”
She unzipped me, and I was hard again in seconds. She tugged her knickers aside, rolled a condom down me from her bag and lowered herself onto my cock, slow, gasping, her head bumping the roof lining. The windows steamed up in about a minute.
She rode me hard, the little car rocking on its springs, my hands finally, finally on her hips, her bare tits bouncing in my face. She came biting my shoulder. I came holding her down on me, swearing into her hair.
“Better than the booth?” she panted.
“Everything is better than the booth.”
She wrote her number in eyeliner on my wrist and kissed me goodnight.
Ending 3 of 25: The Back Seat. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.