“Accident half a mile ahead on the bridge, Mr. Haas. GPS says we’ll be stuck here for a bit longer, but we should make it to the theatre with time to spare.”

I run a hand up the back of one of her legs, teasing along the hem of her little black dress as she continues to holler out the sunroof.

“Do not move this car without warning me first,” I command through the intercom before raising the privacy screen.

“Yes, sir.” Glenn chuckles again before the intercom goes silent.

I release my hold on her and make sure her feet are balanced on the seats before running my other hand up her leg. She freezes at my movement—then she peers down at me. Predictably, the look in her eye tells me she’s up for whatever version of trouble I’m willing to give her.

“Brace yourself, baby girl. We’re about to give NYC a different kind of show.”

I shuck off my jacket, then roll up my dress shirt sleeves before hiking up the skirt of her dress to expose her to me. She’s not wearing any underwear, and the sight of her perfect cunt has me straining in my pants.

I kneel between the seats she’s standing on, wrapping both arms around her body and digging my hands into the back of her thighs. When I bring my mouth to her pussy, she quivers; it’s the most satisfying feeling to know I affect her just as much as she affects me.

Her whimper from outside the sunroof is barely audible when I blow against her center, and her pleasure surges down my face when I pierce her with my tongue. But it’s the subtle little roll of her hips—her silent demand for more—that has me digging my fingers into the flesh of her ass and sucking her clit into my mouth with such intensity she grinds against me.

I loosen my grip on her legs and plunge two fingers into her heat, then grunt in satisfaction when I feel her desire gush around my hand. Her legs are shaking, but we’re on a time limit. I stroke her G-spot in rhythm with the way I suck her clit. We’re a perfect orchestra of motion as she fucks my face and claims what’s hers.

When I feel the first flutters of her release, I rise up higher on my knees, determined to fucking get her there by any means necessary. When I peek up to check on her, she’s massaging her tits through her dress—in full view of literally anyone walking or biking along the bridge—her head thrown back in ecstasy as she races toward the finish line.

I nip at her clit, then she shatters, crying out, pounding on the roof of the car, and pulsating around my hand harder than I’ve ever felt her come.