1642734778_punk-57-pdf

peeking out from underneath. Heat floods my groin, and I feel it start to
swell. Shit.
She walks to the passenger side door, opens it, and barely glances at me
before she tosses her shirt inside and slams the door closed again. Taking
the brush with the long handle off the wall, she shuffles her feet, like she’s
taking off her sandals, and heads for the front of the truck, stepping up on
the bumper.
I didn’t think of that. She’s probably too short to be able to scrub the
middle of the hood if she stands on the ground. Maybe I should help her.
But I look out the windshield, streaked with water, and see her beautiful
body leaning forward over the hood, scrubbing so hard her breasts shake
just enough to send me reeling. This was a bad idea.
And I can’t take my eyes off her. Her tanned thighs bob against the grill
as her tank top rises up with the exertion, and I can see inches of toned
stomach, her hair hanging around her and her chest in perfect view. My
cock starts to grow hard, and I want her in here, not out there. I want her
straddling my lap, close and in my hands.
She jumps down and rounds the car to my side, stepping up again, this
time on the tire. Leaning into the hood, right in front of me, she scrubs the
paint off, the small muscles in her arms flexing and her scowl getting
deeper the harder she works. My eyes flash to her stomach again, and my
hands are begging to touch her skin there.
What a double-edged sword. Am I angry she’s a fake, weak-assed, little
liar? Yes. But am I happy she’s also got the body of a porn star? Hell yes.
She doesn’t have to talk for me to look.
All of a sudden I see her turn her head, and I meet her eyes, hers
looking like she wants to kick me in the nuts. She flips me a middle finger,
seeing me watching her, and I start laughing to myself.