Chapter 562: In the Parking Lot (r-18)

Phei’s mouth descended again on her chest with a reverence that bordered on worship.

He started at the upper swell of her

breasts

—hot, open-mouthed kisses that tasted salt and skin and the faint floral trace of her perfume still clinging to her collarbone.

His lips this time were soft at first, brushing feather-light across the gentle rise, feeling the way her

flesh

yielded beneath them like warm silk.

Then he moved

lower,

nuzzling the warm valley between her breasts,

inhaling

the intimate scent of her—warm skin, faint soap, and the sweet, musky heat of her arousal rising from below.

His tongue

traced

a slow, wet line up the center, collecting the faint sheen of sweat, making her shiver and arch into his mouth.

He

captured

one nipple between his lips.

The touch of his lips was gentle—his lips parting around the stiff, dark bud, his tongue flicking once in a slow, wet circle that made her gasp softly. He felt the texture immediately: the velvety crinkle of her areola tightening further under his tongue, the nipple hardening into a perfect, aching point that rolled against the flat of his tongue like a ripe berry.

"Uhhh—"

She moaned in a cold air.

He

sucked

gently—drawing the peak deeper into the wet heat of his mouth with tender, rhythmic pulls—his tongue swirling in lazy, deliberate spirals while his lips sealed around the base, creating soft suction that sent tiny electric shocks straight to her core.

Emily’s back

arched

on a low, trembling moan—her fingers threading deeper into his hair, cradling his head against her chest like she never wanted him to stop.

Her nipple throbbed in his mouth—swelling, darkening, glistening with saliva as he nursed it slowly, lovingly. Every pull made her breath hitch; every swirl of his tongue made her hips roll forward in helpless little circles, pressing her soaked core against the hard ridge of him through his pants.

He

switched

to the other breast—his mouth trailing wet, open kisses across the soft underside first, tasting the faint salt of her skin, then latching onto the neglected nipple with the same tender hunger.

This one was already stiff from the cool air and his earlier touches; he sucked it deep, his tongue lashing in slow, wet figure-eights while his hand cupped the first breast—kneading softly, his thumb rolling the wet, swollen nipple he’d just left behind.

The

dual sensation

made her whimper—high and sweet—her thighs trembling around his hips, the floral dress riding higher, the fabric whispering against her skin with every tiny shift.

And not one did his hands stop xploring her!

He

lavished

her breasts with slow, unhurried devotion—alternating between them, sucking one nipple deep while his fingers gently pinched and rolled the other, then switching so neither was ever neglected for long.

Her

areolas

were flushed darker now—crinkled and sensitive, nipples glistening and standing proud, wet from his mouth, aching from the tender suction and teasing flicks. Every pull drew a fresh shiver from her;

every soft bite

—barely there, just enough to sting sweetly—made her gasp his name like a prayer.

"Phei..."

she breathed, voice wrecked and velvet-soft, head tipped back, throat exposed, hair spilling over the seat behind her.

He

groaned

against her skin—low, broken, reverent—the vibration rolling through her breast and straight to her core. His hands roamed her waist, her hips, cradling her ass again—kneading the soft curves with slow, possessive squeezes that made her sigh and arch deeper into his mouth.

Then Eira’s voice cut through the haze—sharp, urgent, on side his head:

"Someone’s coming. Now."

Phei froze.

In one fluid, protective motion he released her nipple with a soft, wet pop—his lips glistening—and tugged the floral dress back up her arms.

He

zipped

it closed with careful fingers, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders, making sure every inch of her was covered again and he simply pulled her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her in a fierce, shielding hug—her face tucked against his throat, his chin resting on the crown of her head, heart hammering against hers.

Emily felt the sudden shift—the way his body went rigid,

protective,

every muscle coiled like he was ready to shield her from the world. She didn’t understand yet, but she felt it: the abrupt end wasn’t rejection.

It was something else. Something urgent.

He

lifted

her gently—bridal style this time—her legs dangling, arms looping around his neck. She nestled against him instinctively, cheek pressed to his shoulder, still breathing hard, skin flushed and sensitive from his mouth.

He

eased

her inside onto the seat, then slid in beside her and pulled the door shut with a quiet click.

The moment they were enclosed, he drew her back into his arms—chest to chest, legs tangled, holding her so close she could feel every beat of his heart against her ribs.

He pressed his lips to her temple—soft, lingering.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, voice rough. "Someone’s coming.

We’re

not alone."

Emily blinked—still dazed, still aching—then understanding dawned slowly. She buried her face in his neck, arms tightening around him.

She nestled against Phei’s chest in the back seat, legs tangled with his, the quiet hum of the idling car doing nothing to cool the slow-burning fire still licking through her veins.

The sudden interruption hadn’t extinguished anything—it had only banked it lower, hotter, more insistent. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive; every brush of fabric against her nipples sent

tiny sparks

skittering straight to her core.

The floral dress—now zipped closed, innocent again—felt like a

cruel tease

, the cotton whispering over her breasts with every shallow breath, the seams catching on her still-wet, swollen nipples and making them throb harder.

She shifted once—small, restless—and immediately regretted it. The movement dragged the

damp

cotton of her

panties across her erect clit

, the soft fabric clinging to the slick, engorged nub and rubbing it with torturous friction.

A quiet, involuntary

whimper

escaped her lips before she could swallow it. Her pussy clenched on nothing—hot, empty, aching—fresh arousal leaking out in a slow, warm trickle that soaked deeper into the already-drenched lace between her thighs.

Phei felt it.

His arms

tightened

around her instinctively, one hand sliding up to cradle the nape of her neck, thumb stroking slow circles over the sensitive skin there while his other hand rested possessively on her lower back, fingers splayed wide enough to feel the subtle tremor running through her.

He pressed his lips to her temple again—lingering, soft—then drifted lower, brushing the shell of her ear.

"Still aching?"

he whispered, voice low and rough, barely audible over the faint hum of the engine.

Emily nodded with a blush—small, helpless—face buried deeper in his neck. Her breath came in short, shaky puffs against his throat.

"I can’t... stop feeling you,"

she admitted, voice trembling with embarrassment and want. "Your mouth... your hands... it’s like my

body won’t let go of it."