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“Want to come in?” Joanna raises her eyebrow at you from the driver’s seat. Yeah, all right, you know she has an early morning tomorrow. That was the whole reason for her showing up at yours earlier with a bunch of flowers and a plan for an early dinner. You push anyway. “It’s still early.”
“I really do need to read over my case notes,” she smiles and leans in for a kiss, and you accept that this is all you’re getting tonight, all the time she has to spare on you for today. It’s a lingering kiss and as she pulls back, smoothing her hand across your jacket, you can’t help but chase after her lips for just a moment longer.
She takes a beat to think – running the calculations in her head, you can tell – and then murmurs, “Sod it, I can spare a little longer.” Her lips are on yours again in a flash and it feels like a victory, a fraction of what you suppose she feels after a hard-fought case.
Rather than pull back to get the car door like you expect, she tugs at your jacket and encourages you to clamber over the gearstick and into her lap. It’s a move that makes you very glad for the earlier drizzle that Joanna complained about for forcing her to pull the roof over her car.
(You’ve long since quelled any objections you have for Joanna’s questionable choice of a convertible car for use in Britain, a country well-known for its rain and cold weather. Those objections shattered the first time she’d driven you out to the countryside with the roof down. Although you refuse to be drawn on whether it was the feeling of sunshine and the wind in your hair or the sight of her behind the wheel that was the deciding factor.)
Straddling her lap, you lose yourself in the kiss, the building heat as she slides her hand under your shirt to palm at your breast and elicit pleased sounds that have the curve of her smile against your own lips. You wonder what the result of her calculations were – what Joanna has decided she has time for this evening.
Just as she has nearly kissed this thought out of your head, you feel her hand at your trouser button. A murmured sound of assent and you cling to her shoulders to keep yourself upright as she slips her hand into your underwear.
Clearly no time for teasing in her plans, she goes straight for your clit. She only strays to coat her fingers in your wetness, to smooth the way. She kisses you again, and between her talented tongue and fingers, you feel the pleasure build and overtake you. As you come, you bury your face in the crook of her neck, her free hand stroking through your hair as you come down.
When ready, you sit up a little straighter, watching contentedly as Joanna removes her hand from your trousers and licks your arousal off them. There’s a smirk as she does so that makes you wonder about a second round, if maybe she’s changed her mind about coming in for a little while.
“Love you,” you say, as she straightens your shirt.
“Love you, too,” she returns the peck of a kiss, running her hands up and down your thighs, “Now, get out of my car.”